I'm Still A Person. So Treat me Like One.

by WitcherWonder

Summary:

The bat bites changed him.
His memories are fading like his humanity. He's hurt. He doesn't know how long he's been here.
He just wants to escape, but too many things keep changing. That, coupled with the fact that he can hardly remember the Before.
Will Steve ever catch a break?

Chapter 1: The Before

Summary:

Steve tries to remember what happened in the before

Notes:

Warnings: There is one use of the word Queer in a derogatory sense towards the bottom of the chapter.

This chapter is just Steve thinking over what's happened to him, with his current thought being interjected throughout with the use of - -.

Steve isn't sure how they knew about him. Or well, maybe he is. But it isn't something he tries to think about. It wouldn't matter either way. Thinking about it only sends him down a spiral of what-ifs and whys.

So how they found out, how they found him, it doesn't matter. Because if it mattered, then so did he, and if he mattered, then someone would have come to -Enough! Stop!-.

It doesn't matter. So he tends not to think about it. Instead, he likes to think about the before. Before they kicked down his doors and ripped him from his bed. His home. His friends.

---

Steve doesn't remember everything that happened after they defeated Vecna, from before. His memory is a mix of pain and confusion. Every time he tried to think about it, he'll either have a new detail pop up, or it'll be like trying to eat soup with a fork. It's all to say he gets the bare minimum, but sometimes he gets just enough.

After everything went down -and still I'm not really sure Vecna is dead. But I hope the others managed to find a way to end it- it wasn't easy.

They, Steve, Nancy, and Robin, dragged their battered and bruised bodies from the Upside Down version of the Creel house back to the bat infected twisted version of the trailer park. Steve heard the crying before he saw it, saw them.

They promised not to be heroes. But then again, Steve also promised to make him pay. So neither of them kept their word.

Dustin begged him to help, to do something, anything. But all Steve could manage to do was help him back through the gate. Dustin wanted to bring Eddie's body back with them, but there was no time. The gate had begun pulsing, warping.

In truth, Steve wanted to bring Eddie back with them as well. After everything he'd gone through, he sacrificed his own life for them; the least he deserved was to be brought back with them. But they couldn't.

Nancy and Robin could barely hold themselves up, and Dustin was too injured to help; he could barely put weight onto his ankle. Worst of all was how he could feel the bat bites throbbing, blood sluggishly working its way down his side. They had reopened during their struggle at the Creel house. It made it so Steve was barely strong enough to lift himself through the gate.

-Maybe it would have been better if I died there as well. No. No, that wasn't a thought I can allow myself to have. I can't afford to think like that. Not here.-

Afterwards was a whirlwind of agents, doctors, and NDA's. They were all immediately taken to the Hawkins Lab -thankfully the still functioning medical units and not the weird child experimentation rooms- the others having been picked up from the actual Creel house.

As it turns out, Robin was right to be worried about the bat bites. They were actually infected, though thankfully not with rabies. -But maybe I would have preferred it if it was rabies.-

The doctors gave Steve antibiotics, stitched him up properly, and injected several different IVs to combat whatever it was they found wrong with him. They tried to explain it, but it just went in one eat and out the other as blood loss and exhaustion finally caught up making him near delirious.

Maybe they mentioned something off about the bites, he could have tried harder to listen. -I should have tried harder to listen.- But he doubts they saw anything like this coming.

It was sometime between their exams and Steve's third round of IVs that he finally met Dr. Owens. -Something I've definitely come to wish never happened.- Owens, Eleven, and the others came back from California with Murray, and a shockingly alive, Jim Hopper.

It was Owens who explained to him about the unpredictability and the unknowns of the Upside Down. He spoke about the variety of -and here it was glaringly obvious the avoidance of the word Monster- creatures they've seen come from the gates. How they have no way of knowing what diseases they could carry or the long term effects of breathing in the air of the Upside Down.

Owens explained that it is entirely possible something like this could have happened, though how incredibly rare -I think it was something like 0.000000001 percent of a chance, if I remember correctly.- that it did. As the Upside Down itself is impossible, and therefore all possibilities were well... Possible.

It started like a sickness. Originally, the doctors thought it was an infection from Steve's wounds. He was lying in the hospital bed, letting the IVs and painkillers do their magic. After everything that went down he was severely dehydrated. -I could laugh. I wanted to laugh when they told me. Eddie lost his life, and here I was, people worrying about me over dehydration.-

He started to feel uneasy. Like he was wearing a too-tight shirt, except it was his skin that gave him the feeling. He kept moving his hips, rolling to try and get comfortable. He assumed it was the IVs that were the issue. -Idiot. I should have called for help.- Then the sweat started.

The heat came quickly after. It slowly spread over him, like he sat in front of a furnace during winter. Steve felt calm, almost cozy, warm. That was until it started feeling like someone had poured liquid fire into his veins. He doesn't know when he started screaming. He only noticed when the doctors and some of the Party rushed in to try and help him.

He does remember his back arching off the bed, to try and alleviate the pain. Vaguely, he can remember screaming when hands touched him. They had felt like hot knives. He also thinks he can remember the sharp feeling in his gums, but that might have been a needle in his arm. But what he strongly remembers is the feeling. The all-encompassing burning, the liquid fire within his veins.

It's probably for the best that they wound up sedating me.-

They sedated him and brought him into one of their so-called 'speciality' rooms. Steve isn't sure what they did to him, they never explained it. -Or if they did, I didn't hear them.- But whatever it was, they didn't bother moving him afterwards.

When Steve woke, he was strapped down to a metal table in nothing but his underwear. -Thankfully, a new pair and not the days old pair I've been wearing since going into the Upside Down.- But honestly, he couldn't complain because the metal was cold against his still-heated skin. -I remember how nice it felt. It was like the first dip into a pool in the middle of summer. I wish I could go back.-

It wasn't long after he woke up, still in pain -all I truly remember these days is the pain- that Dr. Owens, accompanied by two suits with guns, came into the room. Owens explained the impossible. The reason Steve's skin felt stretched thin and on fire. Why his jaw hurt so badly -something I only noticed when they mentioned it to me-, and why he was strapped down.

Owens explained it all in detail, but he couldn't pay attention. All he could think about was the simplified version of Owens's explanation.

Vampire

The Upside Down, the bat bites, the infection, had turned him into a vampire.

The reason they had him strapped down was due to his own actions. When the doctors attempted to help him -when I felt like knives were ripping into me- he had bit, with fangs he now had, two of the doctors. Thankfully he didn't kill them.

He had frantically asked about his friends, he needed to make sure they hadn't been hurt. That he hadn't hurt them.

The panic he remembers clearly building, died as soon as Owens informed him that the Party never even made it past his door. That he hadn't hurt any of them. But they weren't sure what type of state he would be in when he woke, so they were currently being kept off his floor.

He was... This was just another NDA to sign, suits included. No one, not even Owens, could even breathe a word about what happened to Steve. Especially not how it had happened. They informed him that another cover story would be created to go on top of the one they have already put out for the murders.

That cover story, Dustin was all too eager to tell him. Once the kids were allowed to see him that is. Once every test and trial was run twice over, and it was clear he wouldn't try and attack anyone else. That took well over a week and many, many, different tests. -I almost miss their tests.-

They wanted to know what would set him off? Would he try to attack at the sight of blood? How long before he needed more? Would animal work or only human? There were so many questions, questions he didn't have the answers to, and neither did they.

So Dr. Owens and his team made sure to be as thorough as possible. They worked on his control, tested his hunger, his hearing. Steve would have gone through anything to make sure he didn't risk hurting his friends.

They couldn't figure out everything. Not with the way the kids kept trying to sneak onto his floor. But they managed to figure out enough, and he managed to maintain enough control over himself.

What would set him off? He isn't one-hundred percent sure, but he knows when to hold back, when to keep his cool. He isn't a monster. Would he try to attack at the sight of blood? No. -I've always had good self control. Kind of have to when I have a father who- No. Nope.- He had a bit of trouble at first, but he never attacked. They realized quickly he was just very hungry after his change. He isn't a monster.

How long before he needed more blood? Not enough time to figure it out, the kids kept trying to sneak onto his floor, impatient. But he wouldn't demand it even if he was starving. He isn't a monster. Would animal blood work? Yes, but he could tell the difference. He isn't a monster.

He was still their Steve just... Just different now. This was something Dustin stressed to him, something Hopper told him as if it was fact. Something Joyce told him quietly, her with her hand on his shoulder. -The way only a mother would.-

Everyone made sure he knew he was still Steve. Still their babysitter who worked at a crappy video store making three bucks and hour. -Thanks for that reminder Mike.- He just now happened t have a sensitivity to light, and a preference for rare meat. -A new dietary requirement Robin had said.-

It was also Dustin who informed him that, with the help of Nancy, the managed to have the government get Eddie cleared of all charges. -Not that it matters now.- They didn't ask for it but the cover story made Eddie out to be the hero. -The one he promised not to be.- According to the kids, even their parents seemed remorseful for believing Eddie could do such a thing.

He wished he could have known how the rest of Hawkins was feeling, like how was Eddie’s uncle handling himself? Was he okay? Would there be a funeral for Eddie? -I tried not to think about it. Dustin would have said I was fixated on it but.. It's just hard not to think about it, especially now. Why did do I keep thinking about it?-

But all Steve had was the second hand information from the Party, he still wasn’t allowed out of the lab yet. He wasn’t even allowed to leave his room. But after a while -when they noticed I could handle multiple different sounds at once- they wheeled him in a television. He didn’t get a lot of channels, mostly the news.

So besides Dustin’s frantic, excited, retelling of their cover story. Or the Party discussing the state of Hawkins. He watched the news to pass the time. It was from a random news story that he finally heard the full version of their new story, almost two weeks after he first heard Dustin's version.

It was playing on nearly every channel he had access to. This time -I think it might have been part of some sort of documentary, but the details are to fuzzy.- the story was being told by a stocky looking man sitting behind a plain brown desk.

_{-With this the murders in the small town of Hawkins, Indiana have finally come to an end. The previously accused, Edward Munson, has been proven innocent of any wrongdoings. The original murder of the young Chrissy Cunningham was done at the hands of her very own boyfriend, a Mr. Jason Carver. In what is being called a fit of jealousy.}

_{According to our sources} -I'm pretty sure they mean the government agents.-_{, after winning his basketball game Mr. Carver went to locate his girlfriend to take her to the celebrations. That is when he saw Chrissy Cunningham and Edward Munson leaving the school together in Mr. Munson’s van.}

_{Our sources confirmed that the two have been friends for sometime, something Mr. Carver despised. Especially considering he gave Mr. Munson his high school nickname of ‘The Freak’.} -Pretty sure that name fits me better now.-

_{Mr. Carver proceeded to follow Mr. Munson’s van back to Forest Hills Trailer Park where the Munson’s lived. There Mr. Carver found the two hanging out in the Munson trailer.}

_{Angered by his girlfriend being around ‘The Freak’, Carver threw open the door. It is believed that at this time Mr. Carver got into an altercation with Mr. Munson where he knocked Munson, temporarily, unconscious.}

_{While we are unsure of what exactly happened between Carver and Cunningham, we do know the ending. In his fit of anger Carver took a metal baseball bat from the Munson home and swung it at his girlfriend.}

_{While our sources could not confirm exactly when, we do know that sometime during the murder Mr. Munson woke and attempted to stop and subdue Mr. Carver.} -Probably because it didn't happen.-_{Unfortunately it was too late to save Ms. Cunningham, and Mr. Munson sustained multiple injures in his attempt.}

_{According to sources,} -Okay who are your sources?-_{Carver fled the trailer where Mr. Munson chased after him into the woods. Unfortunately Carver managed to escape back to where he parked his car.}

_{Alone in the woods in the middle of the night, Mr. Munson came to realize that he had left the body of a friend in his home. With no one to explain his story to.}

_{Now viewers may be wondering why Mr. Munson did not just go to the police and report what he saw.} -As if they'd believe him. The town hated him.-_{We did some digging ourselves and it seems Mr. Munson has had many accusations against him.}

_{Everything from being a drug dealer to being a queer. Now none of the accusations have been proven to be true} -I've definitely gotten weed from him.-_{or had anything come from them. But according to several of his friends, Mr. Munson and the Hawkins police were not on good terms.}

_{However, it was Wayne Munson, Edward’s uncle, who found the body the next morning and phoned the police. While the police were able to immediately clear Wayne Munson of suspicion. They did not listen to the man when he said his nephew was not responsible.}

_{The police, with very little evidence, proceeded to publicly announce that Edward Munson was, at first, a suspect in the murder of Chrissy Cunningham.}

_{They later went on to change their story and said it was indeed Edward who was responsible for Ms. Cunningham’s murder.}

_{However, several members of Mr. Munson’s high school club, Hellfire, sought him out. They believed in his innocence and wanted to help prove it. These children helped Mr. Munson with his injuries and attempted to come up with a plan to clear Edward’s name.}

_{It is still unclear to all why shortly after killing Ms. Cunningham, Mr. Carver went after his next victim, Fred Benson. While we do not know the relation between the two, the injuries Mr. Benson sustained are consistent with the other victims in a near exact pattern.}

_{It is before the Hawkins police changed their story, but after Fred Benson’s murder, that Mr. Carver managed to convince many of the adults in Hawkins that Edward Munson was responsible for the murders.}

_{It is at that time that Carver also convinced his fellow teammate Patrick McKinney to aid him in his search for Munson.}

_{While our sources were not able to confirm the exact information of what went down between the three, we do know that Carver and McKinney located Mr. Munson by Lover’s Lake. It is believed that Munson told McKinney the truth of what Carver did.}

_{Whatever may be the case, we do know that Carver attempted to drown McKinney, and when that did not work. Proceeded to use the baseball bat he kept from the Munson home, to end the life of his friend.}

_{During this time, in fear of his life, Mr. Munson managed to, once again, escape from Carver. This time Munson ran into the woods where the next day his friends managed to find him.}

_{It has been confirmed that over the next few days Mr. Carver managed to subdue and kidnap several of the younger members of the Hawkins High Hellfire Club. As well as a Hawkins Middle School student, and two others who have been asked to remain nameless.}

_{Carver held them all within the abandoned Creel home, which is the site of several murders in 1959. If you are interested in those murders we have another retelling coming up this evening at nine.}

_{To continue, it was after his friends started to go missing that Mr. Munson contacted another Hawkins local, one Steve Harrington, for assistance. Mr. Harrington has been confirmed to know the students who were kidnapped and was among the friends who assisted Mr. Munson with his injuries.}

_{After contacting Mr. Harrington, the two managed to figure out that their friends were being held at the old Creel house. Somewhere, unsurprisingly, the Hawkins police neglected to look.}

_{Wanting to act quickly, in fear of their friend’s safety, the two went to rescue them before Carver could murder anyone else.}

_{Unfortunately before they could get there, Carver had already attacked and injured one of the students, Ms. Maxine Mayfield. But due to Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington’s quick action they managed to save Ms. Mayfield’s life. As well as the life of the other students. However, all three acquired life threatening injuries.}

_{Due to all the evidence in his favor, from the students as well as several other testimonials. Edward Munson has been cleared of any and all accusations against him.}

_{However, since the earthquakes that cracked the small town to its core. Mr. Munson has been missing, and due to his untreated injuries, is presumed dead.}

_{Jason Carver could not be arrested but is also presumed dead as the dilapidated Creel house collapsed with him inside during the quakes.}

_{This of course is an unsatisfactory ending to the families of the deceased. But the town can now rest a little easier knowing it is all over. Now coming up a local child is-...}

Steve knew the ‘official’ story wouldn’t raise any questions. They never did. Nor would anyone question any explanation of his new condition. The people of Hawkins really made up the definition of minding your own business.

Chapter 2: The Before pt2

It took Steve another -I think- two weeks before he could leave the lab. The days were filled with more tests, more blood, and more pain. Though the pain was mostly unintentional this time.

Through trial and error he managed to figure out how to work around his new.. Condition. How he could would survive and make himself seem as normal as possible.

They worked with him on controlling his hunger -thirst- Though they never left him without blood for too long. -Not like now.- He worked on controlling his fangs -hat still needed practice, but back then no one either noticed or chose not to mention it.-

What kept him in the lab for so long was nerves, and not just his. The doctors and Owens seemed nervous to set him into the world again. But that was to be expected, he had minimal contact in a sterile environment. There was no telling what he would be like out in the world.

But in the end they couldn’t keep him forever. -Yes they could. They wanted to and would have kept me longer if Hopper hadn’t intervened.- But all the nerves didn’t matter in the end. Steve was slightly overwhelmed on the drive home. But nothing came of it. -Thank you Robin for your nonstop rambling.-

He was able to relax and acclimate back into his new / old life for a few days. Before the Party descended on him. They talked over each other, left crumbs all over his house, and overall, it was complete chaos. It was perfect.

It was also perfect to get him accustomed to loud noises. Something he would need when Robin informed him that he would get to keep his job once Family Video reopened. Apparently, Robin had managed to convince Keith to schedule him for mostly the later shifts.

She had mentioned something about the suits explaining to Keith that due to Steve’s injuries, he was now sensitive to long exposures of sunlight. -I don’t remember the exact wording she used, but I do vaguely remember we had this conversation… I think.-

So, Keith had him scheduled mostly for later afternoon to closing shifts. With a few mornings thrown in here and there. Robin of course, offered to take any of those shifts anytime he couldn’t handle it. Assuming it wasn’t a school day of course. -She really was the best friend anyone could have asked for.-

Owens, or maybe it was the suits -I’m not really sure-. Managed to set him up with regular deliveries of blood, not something Steve wanted to think too hard on. It would vary between animal and human -and I don’t want to think on where they got it at all actually, thank you very much.-

They gave him the strict instructions that if it wasn’t enough, or he felt he needed to up the deliveries, he was to tell someone immediately. -It was like they thought I would go out and slaughter the town or someth…. Oh. Actually they probably did think that.-

But his friends already offered to be emergency backups if need be. -But uh yeah no.. I was definitely never going to do that.- He wouldn’t ask that of them. Couldn’t ask that of them. He wouldn’t put them in danger like that.

-Not that it mattered now, but I remember how it made me feel. How I’d never hurt them no matter what they were offering. I still wouldn’t. I was sure in my control even then being around them. Or else I never would have risked it, risked them.-

So life went on. Or well unlife he supposes. The town was still picking up after the gates ripped their way through it. The school was a temporary shelter so they haven’t gone back yet, but slowly and surely life was coming back.

While many people took the opportunity to leave, the rest were getting back to business. The laundromat, hardware store, and even the diner were the first stores to reopen. Almost immediately people flocked to them, trying to get back into a normal routine.

He remembers taking the kids for burgers before they went down to the now Hopper-Byers cabin to help with the renovations. Something Steve could help with better than before. -Dustin said something about not showing my hand. So no one in the lab could document the truth.. Something like that.-

If he had his fill of human blood before helping, lifting the wood or pulling down broken bits of wall was pretty much effortless. Though most days he was there he was either holding back or had to give it a few pulls before the wood broke away. -Mostly because back then I was still wary of drinking human blood.-

But it was still far easier than before his.. Condition. But that wasn’t what was important. Steve just… He was just glad he got to spend time with them all.

Even Jonathan, who he actually started to become friends with. Who woulda thought. But life wasn’t as easy as he wanted it to be.

He went to work. Drove the kids around. Took Robin, and occasionally some of the kids, to school when it reopened. He helped where he was needed. But they all had their issues.

Lucas broke down on a drive to the hospital, scared Max would never wake up. Steve had to pull over to hug the boy and let him cry it out, whispering how she was alive, how she was a fighter, anything he could think of to help.

Erica would go quiet. Her usual scathing remarks suddenly disappearing, replaced with a hard look in her eyes. She once -I remember it was on a drive to Tina’s- in such a quiet voice that he wasn’t sure she meant for him to hear it. -I wouldn’t have without having changed.- Admitted that she had nightmares of Andy actually breaking her arms.

Robin would call him in the middle of the night, the last call was at 2am. Terrified and in a panic. She could still feel the vines around her throat. Steve definitely broke the law speeding over to her house. They would lay together, Robin tangled around him -she was like a human octopus- as he promised he wouldn’t let it happen again. They were platonic with a capital P. But he’d be there for her, always. -At least I wanted to be.-

And Dustin… Dustin had someone die in his arms. Not just someone, he had Eddie die in his arms.

There were nights when Steve had to call Mrs. Henderson to let her know Dustin was once again asleep in his home, not dead in a ditch. Mrs. Henderson -call me Claudia- was grateful for everything he’d done for Dustin. For every nightmare filled night Dustin called him and he -definitely broke several laws- rushed over.

For every night he fell asleep in Steve’s bed, terrified to be alone in his own. How Steve would drop everything -left work in the middle of a shift once to get him from school. Robin covered for me with Keith.. She said something about having ‘lady troubles’, and Keith's face.. He was so embarrassed he forgot Robin wasn’t working at that time.- to be there for the kids, for Dustin.

So they all had their issues. But he felt like it was his responsibility to shoulder it all for them. They needed a rock to lean on, but he felt more like wet cardboard on a good day.

Steve had his own bad days. He could still remember the fear of being dragged down into the lake. The pain from the bats. The infection. The vines. The tunnels. The first Demogorgon. And on top of all of it, he was still struggling with his new condition. -But these aren’t the Before memories I needed to think about. Not the ones that keep me going anyway.-

It was nearly -I think- a month after Steve was released from the lab. The school had reopened so Robin and the kids weren’t around. He was.. Alone. For the first time in a long while.

He was in the kitchen contemplating whether or not making a grilled cheese would be enough, or should he warm up some blood too? -It’s far better warm than it was cold.- That’s when he felt it.

It felt like he was dunked into an ice bath. The cold spreading up his spine and through his bones rapidly.

He closed his eyes, letting his senses expand. Was it the kids? Were they in trouble? Dustin!? Was Robin okay? But no, it wasn’t any of them. They all, from what Steve could tell, seemed fine. But so did everything else.

So what was it? Maybe he was just really thirsty. When was the last time he drank blood? Might as well make both just to be safe.

-I should have tried harder. I shouldn’t have pushed it off as hunger so quickly. Stupid. Idiot. Why did I do that?!.. No. Nope. Not going there. Can’t change the past. If it was possible then Eddie wouldn’t have.. No stop! Stop. Enough. The past is the past.-

Try to get back to the Before. The good parts. They helped with the pain. What did he do? Did he make the grilled cheese? Did he drink a mug of blood? He remembers it was cow they delivered that morning.

Did… Did… What did he do? What was he?...

He screamed.

Chapter 3: Is This Before? Or Is This Now?

Summary:

Steve is slowly losing his mind as he tries to remember where he is.

But most importantly. Who he is.

Notes:

Warnings: Light description of torture.

(Posting schedule: Update at a minimum once a week. Besides that, whenever I feel like posting a chapter. So always be on the lookout.)

He screamed. His back arching off the metal table he was strapped chained to. Where was he? Was it all just a dream? Where was Dustin? Robin? Where was…

Oh.

Oh.

Steve’s eyes snapped open, taking in the room around him. Thick, plain, white concrete walls lined with a multitude of different machines, jars, and instruments -definitely not the musical kind- surrounded him.

His body felt on fire. He couldn’t move his arms, his legs. There was pain crawling up his spine.

A needle was in his arm. Taking. Not giving. He hates these days. -I really. Really. Hate these days.-

Typically they only took small samples -like some blood- and ran little tests. -Made me walk on a treadmill for three hours.- They wanted to see what he was capable of. -Not that I’d ever let them find out the truth.- They wanted to find out what his limits were. They haven’t found anything to interesting… Yet. -At least I hope not.-

-Gotta remember what… Was it Dustin? Yeah. Yeah. What Dustin said. Don’t let them know what I’m capable of. Make ‘em think I’m just a blood drinking human…. But why would.. How did Dustin-?-

-What was I talking about?-

Steve let out a small whine. He couldn’t move his feet, but it felt as if he was being scraped raw with a hot knife.

-Oh right! Yeah Dustin. The kid probably knew something like this was inevitable. Smart kid… Smart kid. My kids are so smart. Mhm. Gonna be like. Doctors and scientists. Definitely scientists.-

How long had he been here? A month? Two? A year?! He’d lost count. But it didn’t matter. Because if it mattered then Steve.. -No stop! Focus on now!- Where was he again?

Oh yeah… He hates these days.

The ones where they tied him down, in nothing but his underwear -perverts-, and cut away little pieces. Nothing that would kill him, if it could kill him. -And I don’t want to think of the day they try to find out what could.- Just a few skin samples, the occasional fingernail.

A tooth once.

They had just finished taking both of the newly regrown nails from his big toes. -That explains the pain.- They never bothered to try and numb him -why would they? I’m not even considered a person here.-

Not like they cared or tried to be gentle either. They had found long ago that certain parts of him regrew. -Certain things are faster than others.- His hair, nails, bits of skin, even teeth. From there, it had been like a dam broke, and the pain he felt only increased. They would take and take and take, watching as he regrew in bits and pieces with sadistic glee.

Steve heard them once discussing if they took a kidney or his liver, would it regrow? It was a terrifying thought. Not thinking what type of monster he was that he could regrow an organ. No, he was long past trying to avoid the M word. They called him that all the time.

-I’m a little monster. Short and stout. Here are my fangs. Here are my… Claws? When I get all an-gry. Hear me growl…Mm needs work.-

No. What was terrifying was that they would do it without even trying to sedate him. But he can’t think about the what-ifs. Not if he wants to survive this.. -I could show them a monster.-

They don’t do these days often -I think it might only be once a month-. Especially not if Steve behaved -allowing them to see some results in their ‘research’-. And he had, been behaving that is. -I know what happens when I don’t.-

Steve found it was much easier on him if he just.. Gave in. They treated him better, gave him better food, better blood, and longer showers. But only if he behaved. -Be a good little monster Stevie… Who called me that?-

-Someone called me Big Boy once. Right? Yeah, someone did. Who was it?.. Oh! Oh, it was.. Eddie! Yeah Eddie!... Why did he call me that?-

So today was just their restock day. Not because he had been misbehaving. But because they ran out of.. Well.. Bits Pieces of him.

He tried to tune it all out, the men and women in masks working around him. He stared up at the ceiling and began tracing out the same pattern he had done countless times. He wasn’t even sure what it was. A dragon, maybe? A type of tree? Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was finally going insane.

He suddenly let out a sharp hiss of breath as he was jerked back to reality. His head smacked backwards, thumping back against the hard metal table. The.. Doctors?.. Taking a quick step back thinking he was going to attempt an escape. But he wouldn’t -I haven’t tried in ages. Not after.. What I did... What was it that brought me back?-

Sure, Steve was in pain, but that was normal. He had long ago learned to tune most of it out. So. What?..

It was the feeling. Like being thrown into an ice bath. He had felt it a few times in the before. He had also felt it more often these days, and far stronger too. It seemed to be completely at random.

Last time it happened Steve attempted to stretch his senses as far as he could, trying to figure it out… Nothing. Well, nothing except for him passing out. Maybe he really was just broken. -Just my luck. I become a vampire and even in that, I come out wrong. My father always.. No! Enough!-

With another hard thump of his head, a groan leaving his lips, he settled back down. The doctors relaxed and got back to work. Apparently, they were amused. Thought whatever it was they were doing brought him too much pain. Jokes on them, he tuned their work out. He was always in pain.

There wasn’t much else he could do besides go back to tracing his pattern over and over. It lulled him into an almost meditative state.

-My little Pony my little Po-. Who liked that show? Was it Mike? Mmm Lucas likes Max. Max likes to skateboard. Oh.. I got her that new board. I think it was still in my closet. Oh! Dustin’s new walkie. I never gave it to him.. I still have Robin’s shoes in my car…-

Steve hadn’t noticed when the doctors finished, leaving him alone. He vaguely noticed when the guards unchained him, two of them lifting him from under his arms. They half carried, half dragged him back to his.. Room? Cell?

When he couldn’t walk like this, it reminded him of his time with the Russians. He tried so hard to keep them away from Rob-. -Why do I keep thinking like this, stop it!- Steve opened his eyes. He was back in his room? Huh. -Magic.-

It wasn’t anything special. The same thick white concrete walls as most of the other rooms. The floor was made of a cold, plain, white tile. There was a desk, bolted down of course, with an uncomfortable chair and a small lamp against the left wall near the door. A clock sat above the door. -Sometimes the ticking pisses me off.-

A metal cabinet in the corner, that held all his meager belongings. A few changes of clothes, two spare sheets, two spare pillow cases, and an extra scratchy blanket. But of course he couldn’t forget his military style bed, it was as uncomfortable as it looked.

It all held enough room for him to comfortably walk around -in circles- or do -very few- pushups in. And of course how could he forget, the giant security camera hanging from the corner of the ceiling. It gave them a view of -nearly- the whole room. The only area that they told him it couldn’t see was the little toilet and sink across the room from his bed. -Ooo a little bit of privacy.-

His throat hurt from screaming. When was he screaming?

Oh… Right.

Some human blood would do wonders right now. Had he eaten today? He vaguely remembers something sitting heavy in his stomach. Usually he gets human blood and a big breakfast on these days -so I had to have eaten this morning, right?-. It helped him heal faster. Made him stronger too. Not that they knew either of those things. He kept as much to himself as he could. Though Steve suspects they probably think it. Either way. They didn’t want to break their little experiment. -Stop it!-

Sitting up with a groan, at least they put him in his bed this time. Sometimes, depending on the guards, they just leave him on the floor. Usually by the door. -I think at this point I’d even enjoy my empty house compared to all this… Did Robin go see that showing of Alien? Ooh I’d kill someone for some movie theater popcorn. Extra butter please! Dustin and I usually share. Will too but he isn’t around anymore.-

His thoughts stopped when the slit in the door -this was definitely taken straight from one of those prison movies that Robin dragged me to go see. I mean, it’s almost like I’m in solitary confinement here.- opened and a tray was pushed through.

He wanted to rush over and take it, but his body protested. -Push through it Steve. Just push through it.- Slowly getting off the bed, he took the tray in his shaky hands.

‘Thanks’ he weakly mumbled. Did he shred his throat again? He really hopes not. The blood would burn going down if he did.

Sitting crossed legged on the bed, still in just his underwear, he looked down at the tray in his lap. Bread -boring but filling-, carrots -at least they’re not raw this time-, some grey looking -was that oatmeal? Or maybe it was pudding- sludge, and some, nearly raw, cuts of meat.

They cackled at Steve -like evil villains- the first time they fed him. He had been starved for, he thinks, a week -definitely at least one. Probably longer if I’m being honest.- and devoured the whole tray. He didn’t even notice the sludge or meat. Now they just laughed at him, serving him either partially cooked or -depending on who’s working in the kitchen that day- raw meat.

But at the moment -or really ever because who exactly is going to listen if I complain- none of it mattered. Sitting next to it all was a warm -hopefully fresh too, I can tell the difference- bag of, unfortunately, pig's blood. But still he ignored the rest of the food in favor of the blood.

Grabbing the bag Steve practically shredded off the top with his teeth. He drank it as fast as he could without making a mess, or making himself sick. Usually he would savor it, or just try not to go so fast as to throw it all back up later. But right now he needs it, desperately. It burned his throat because of course he shredded it screaming as much as he did. Fuck! -I definitely won't be singing anytime soon.-

After he practically licked the bag clean he started to, calmly, eat his food. Being alone gave him plenty of time to think. Especially about that cold feeling. It has been coming more and more often as of late. Its frequency increased almost the moment that they brought him.. Here.

Wherever here was.

Steve has his suspicions but none of them good, or probable. -Maybe the cold was Eleven trying to.. No! No! Okay just.. No. Stop it. Stop. Please.- He clenched his eyes shut. He knows he needed to stop thinking like this. But he couldn’t help it. If there was even a chance that someone was trying to-.

He roughly ran his hands through his hair, pulling through the knots. The cold feeling. Back to the cold feeling. Was it this place? Was it calling him for something? Trying to get his attention?

Was it the Upside Down?

God he hopes it wasn’t the Upside Down trying to call out to him. That would be… Honestly maybe the Upside Down wouldn’t be so bad compared to being here. -Idiot of course it would.- But it’s not like the bats could change him twice.. Right? Yeah, yeah, of course not. Idiot. -Robin would definitely make fun of me for…-

With shaking legs and trembling hands he put the now empty tray onto his desk, they’d collect it in the morning. -God was anyone even trying t- Stop it!!-

He roughly ran his hands through his hair again, sharp nails making themselves known. They came out more often when he was overwhelmed. Claws. They called them claws. Honestly he could care less what they called them him. -Besides the fangs it's the only other part of me I’ve let them really see. And it was by accident at first too.-

-Focus Steve!-

What was..The cold feeling! He could feel it again. But this wasn’t like the other times though. No sudden rush, no ice bath feeling. Laying back on the bed he closed his eyes, trying to focus.

It felt somehow near, but also distant. Like it was wrapped tightly around itself trying to hold back. Or like it was trying to hide.

Was it.. Was it someone else?

Or was it the Upside Down? Close by, just a gate away. Hiding itself until it could drag Steve back into it. Cold and unforgiving the way the vines dragged him through Water Gate.

Of course it was! How could he ever think that it was.. Her.. Fuck! Was the Upside Down in his head?! He was changed forever because of it. Was it.. Could it control him? The way it controlled the bats, the demo-dogs, the demogorgon. -The hive mind- He wasn’t religious but.. If someone would still listen to him after what he was now, after what he’s done..

He prayed it kept the Upside Down at bay.

Chapter 4: Finding Out Which is Worse

Summary:

Steve's going insane.

But he's not right?

Because crazy people don't admit when they're crazy..

Right?

Steve woke in a cold sweat early the next morning, a scream stuck in his throat. -Nightmares after one of the labs isn’t unusual. But this.. This was like I was right back there.- He had dreamt that the vines were back around his ankle, dragging him into the Upside Down. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs filled with water as he tried to fight to get back to the surface, to his friends. He was drowning.

Waking wasn’t any better. The ice bath feeling has been there since before he opened his eyes. And while he wasn’t drowning, he was stuck in his own version of hell. He was experimented on, tortured in the name of ‘research’, and starved. So sure he wasn’t drowning. But he was alone, hurt, and hungry. And he was fully able to admit, he was going insane. -Maybe that means I’m not. Usually, insane people don’t think they’re crazy.. Right? Yeah definitely.. Maybe?-

So in the end, he wasn’t sure which was worse. His dreams. Or reality. Either way he was being taken apart, slowly, piece by piece.

Yesterday, they had taken all the samples they would need for a while. So today, if they followed their usual schedule, he’ll get to shower and hopefully relax. -At least they stayed to a routine. Probably so they didn’t break their little monster. Mm no. Nope. Too early for this. Not even breakfast time yet… If the clock isn’t a lie to drive me crazy too. But if it isn’t, then the sun hasn’t even risen yet either. Not that I could tell if it was daytime, there are no windows in my cell room.-

Maybe they weren’t always heartless… Was he developing Stockholm syndrome? No. No, definitely not. They kidnapped, tortured, and experimented on him. Just because they sometimes allowed him to have time to himself didn’t mean they were good people. -I mean, they don’t even consider me a person. And I’m such a person. More person than they are. Yeah. Yeah, such a person. Totally.-

He laid on top of his blanket until his body needed to move. But there was nowhere to go, nothing to do. So he walked to his ‘wardrobe’ and got out his daily uniform -because what else would it be? It’s like.. A prison jumpsuit.. Actually, I’d prefer one of those instead of. This.-. Slipping on the paper thin hospital gown, the only ‘clothing’ they had given him besides underwear. -Thankfully it’s closed in the back. They see enough already. Perverts the lot of ‘em. I don’t need them staring at my ass- Steve sat back on his bed and waited.

Breakfast came through the little slit in his door right on time, three hours later. -Right as the sun would come up.. I think.- As usual on these days, it was boring. A tray of plain beige oatmeal, a dry roll -not even a biscuit-, and some powdered eggs. But no blood this morning, not unusual. He ate it quickly just to get it over with. Then he waited, and waited, and waited. The ice bath feeling came back again. It made him feel colder than before, cold enough that he had to wrap the thin blanket around himself. -Not that it does anything.-

There wasn’t much else to do. He had a desk but nothing to read or write in. He could pace his room, but he was still too tired for that -and it got boring fast-. Plus there wasn’t much space in his room. So he just sat on his bed thinking.

-Left, then left again, then… Left, then left again and then.. And then.. Left? No, definitely not. Shit… Okay, okay, relax, it’s not a big deal. Think of something I know. I know.. I know.. Robin! I know Robin was supposed to call me after her date. I know.. Dustin. He was so upset that last week. Did he know they were gon- No! No of course not!-

Steve laid back staring at the ceiling. Slowly, he started tracing the same pattern again. -Dustin had been so upset because he spoke to Wayne again. He missed Eddie.. I miss Eddie. I.. We were alone, that didn’t happen much anymore. So I..I. Took him to the diner? Yeah, yeah, he cried into… A salad? No. A burg- No. A milkshake! Dustin cried while drinking his milkshake!-

He nodded to no one. His head wasn’t empty yet. He wasn’t broken. -Yeah I.. I wanted to cheer him up. I didn’t want to be alone. So I said.. I asked.. I told him he could teach me their game. Demon and Dun- no, no that's not.. Dragons and Dice? No. Mm Shit.-

He was trying to think it over until he heard the door locks slowly thunking open. One after the other. Thunk, thunk, thunk, it hurt his ears. Like there was a hammer smashing against his skull with each lock. He quickly got up. He had learned a while ago that making them wait had consequences. Even though it was just a single guard standing there to escort him down to the showers. -Dungeons and Dragons!.. Yes, that's it!- He was well behaved, enough so they knew he wouldn’t run from just one guard. -Not like there wouldn’t be five more around the corner.-

-Left, right, skip, skip, right, skip, left, skip, skip, right. Like.. Like a cheat code. In.. In Pac-Man! Yeah Pac-Man.-

They didn’t need to restrain him so the guard unlocked the door, motioned him in, and bolted it behind him. Thunk, thunk, thunk, until he was alone. Again. -I don’t want to be alone.-

The showers were set up in a communal style. They were laid out in an L shape, the shower heads set deep into the grey tile walls. -Probably so whoever they had here didn’t try and kil- Okay, bad thoughts Steve. Bad thoughts.- Three against one wall, five against another, and of course, another security camera hanging from the ceiling. -Definitely not legal. But then again I’m here so…-

The entrance to the showers had a single step up, surrounded by a half wall which divided it from the bolted down metal benches and lockers. It reminded Steve of a locker room. -Just like an actual locker room, nothing was private here. But I hope the wall didn’t allow the camera to see everything.-

-Well, not like they haven’t seen it all already. Pretty sure at this point they’ve been up my- Oh look conditioner! They must be happy with me!-

On one of the benches, as usual, was a bar of soap, a towel, and a new, clean, pair of underwear and a hospital gown. And actual conditioner. -Usually I just have to use the soap in my hair. Yup. They’re definitely happy with me. They even remembered the towel! I wonder what they found yesterday…. No I don’t.-

Steve pulled off his ‘clothes’, leaving them on one of the benches, they got collected later. He walked to the corner showers. If he turned them both on at the same time he can warm up faster. Plus, no one ever yelled at him for wasting water. Steve washed himself quickly and efficiently. He looked up at the spray the whole time, letting it wash over him. He only looked down at himself if he had to. Between being here and the bat bites, coupled with everything else he's been through. Steve had trouble looking at himself these days.

So he washed as fast as he could, letting the conditioner sit in his hair for as long as possible -who knows when i’ll get more of it.-. Not like they gave him any other products to really take care of himself so why waste time. Besides, he’d rather be laying in bed today anyway. He wanted to try and figure out that cold feeling again.

It felt even stronger today. Like it was panicking, or maybe like it was trying to get Steve’s attention. He wasn’t sure, but it certainly had it. -Is it.. Could I actually hope that it’s Eleven? I. I want it to be. But I just.. I don’t know.- But what he does know is it has caused the ice bath feeling twice so far today, and it wasn’t even lunch yet. -Not that I often get lunch. It was really up to how they were feeling or who was in the kitchen.-

So maybe it wasn’t the Upside Down, unless of course they had a demogorgon here and it was trying to reach him. He really wouldn’t put it past these people to have something besides him from that place. But it was definitely stronger today. He hoped if he just focused on it enough he could figure it out. -And not just pass out.-

-What was I thinking about before?.. Ele-. Mik-. Wil-. Dustin! I told him he could teach me.. Dungeons and Dragons! Yes I did. I’m such a good.. Babysitter. I’m a good babysitter. My kid was sad. So I said he could teach me his little game. He was so shocked he stopped crying… He did yell at me but I think he was.. Excited? Wanted to know why I changed my mind after so long.. Years? Yeah.-

Steve nodded to himself. See, his memory was just fine. -He said a lot of different things really fast. Something about.. Gnomes? I think? And different classes? Said if I played with them he’d even do all the math for me. Good kid, knows I have trouble with math. Mm but I don’t think he was that excited? I think he realized I only said it to cheer him up. But I told my kid. I said Dustin , you listen here. We can still make me a character so we have something to do. He was so happy… I’m glad. All my kiddos should be happy.-

He quickly washed his hair, dried off as best as he could, and put on the new hospital gown and underwear. Then he waited, and waited some more. When the door unbolted. Thunk, thunk, thunk. -Earplugs please.- He went to walk forward but froze. Seven armed guards stood before him. What was going on?

-No. No no no. Please no. I can’t do it again. Please don’t make me. Please.-

Dread filled his chest. His hands started to shake. He knows he must look as terrified as he feels. Were they changing the schedule? God he hoped not. He just wanted to lay down. -Please please please. Please I’ve been good.-

The two normal guards that escorted him to the labs were among the seven. Their faces looked smug, like they were in on a joke he didn’t yet know. -Fuck were they going to take more samples?!- They came up to him and gripped his upper arms tightly. The other five guards took up position in a circle around him.

‘Try anything and it’ll be so much worse for you.’ The guard on his right threatened as they pulled him forward. -Worse for me?! Where are we going?!- He wanted to struggle, wanted to but didn’t. What could be worse? He didn’t want to find out.

Steve hadn’t fought them in a very long time, so he wasn’t sure why they thought he would now. Either way he was still weak from yesterday’s samples. On top of his lack of sleep. Human blood would have made him stro-. Oh…

Maybe that’s why they gave him animal blood yesterday. -Maybe they did know the truth.- They also didn’t give him any with breakfast. Which was always a toss up if they did or didn’t. He’d yet to find a pattern. Did they finally figure out human blood affected him differently? -Were they going to see if it would affect their samples? God no please!-

As they led Steve forward he started to hear a quiet snarling. It grew louder and louder as they walked on. Was it a demogorgon? A demo-dog? Some other new Upside Down creature?! -God please not the bats. Please not the bats… Please.-

Did they finally have all the answers they wanted? Were they going to now make him fight it?! Did they want to see how fighting it would affect him? Did they want to know if he could kill it? Questions came and went quicker than he could figure them out.

He was scared.

That was until they turned the corner toward the snarling noise.

He was terrified.

The guards grips around his arms got impossibly tighter the closer they got. Usually it wouldn’t bother him, but he was weak, and scared. He could feel every indent of their fingers. Some of the other guards nervously adjusted their grips on their guns.

As they got closer the first thing Steve noticed, the only thing Steve noticed was another group of armed guards, but they weren’t focused on him. They were shouting and attempting to contain whatever it was that was making that noise. They were focused on… He would recognize that hair anywhere. -Was it.. Could it really be- No that’s not. It can’t be.-

‘E.. Eddie?!’ He shouted, trying to pitch forward, trying to go to him. The guards hadn’t expected it and nearly lost their grip on him with the force at which he pulled.

He hasn’t attempted to escape in ages, not since his last.. Punishment. But it was Eddie. There was no mistaking it, it was him. Steve had to get to him, had to help. But the barrel of a gun was suddenly pressed heavily against his forehead. No matter what tests were run on him, no matter the experiments, they never shot him. He had no idea if this was something that would finally kill him.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was Eddie. Just Eddie. It took him a moment to recover from the initial shock, it gave him enough time to notice the state he was in.

Eddie had what appeared to be a modified dog muzzle on. It was made of heavy metal that looked to be completely fused together. Two small, thin, slits were the only deformity in the metal, which came out like a bowl around his mouth. His arms were pulled back behind him, in thick heavy metal cuffs that went up his forearms. His hands were completely encapsulated. -They’re treating him like a feral animal!-

Eddie was flinging himself wildly, trying to escape the guards grasp. When he heard Steve yell he harshly flung himself around, two of the guards hitting the wall. Nothing else mattered to him when their eyes met. It was Eddie.

He was alive.

-Eddie. Get to Eddie. Get to Eddie!- The cold feeling came back with a vengeance, but Steve couldn’t be bothered to focus on it right now. Eddie was alive. Eddie was here and he was alive. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. Steve tried to harshly fling himself forward to get to him. Guns be damned.

But it was no use. He was too weak today. Another gun pressed against him, this time to the back of his head. But it didn’t matter. -You’ll have to fucking kill me then you cowards!- The only thing he could focus on was Eddie. He was alive. Eddie was alive. And Eddie looked just as terrified to see Steve as he felt right now. The guards practically lifted him off the ground as they dragged him backwards down the hall.

‘Eddie!’ He screamed as the snarls got louder, as he and the guards got further and further away. The other group of guards, around Eddie, began practically screaming but he couldn’t focus on what they were saying. All he could focus on was Eddie.

He thrashed against their grips. Struggling the entire way back to his room. Two of the guards had to grab his legs when he managed a hard kick to the back of the knee of one of them. He almost managed to break away before they got the door opened. -Almost.- Thunk, thunk, thunk. The noise reverberated through his skull. The guards roughly throwing him inside before bolting the door. He got up at an almost inhuman speed. He needed to get to him, but knew in the back of his mind, not to let them know how fast he could be.

‘Eddie!’ He screamed as he banged on the door. He had enough sense to know not to dent it.

‘What the fuck are you people doing to him!?’ Steve yelled, ready to slam himself into the door. But instead he was jumping back just as quickly as the slit in his door was wrenched open. This was it. They’d finally shoot him and they weren’t even brave enough to look him in the eye while they did it. -Fucking cowards!-

‘Be a good little monster and behave or it’ll be so much worse for you… Harrington.’ The guard who took him to his shower this morning responded, sounding far more amused than threatening. He spat out his name like he was supposed to be surprised. Like they’ve never used it before. Which.. Oh. They haven’t. Monster, freak, experiment, a whole range of names but never his own.

When he started growling, and where did that come from, the man decided to elaborate. ‘And for him too if you’re not careful.’ He added before closing and sealing the slit.

That had him frozen, he knew he had a look of horror on his face, because he felt it all the way to his core. What were they doing to Eddie? What would happen to him all because he… He what? Wanted so desperately to get to him he risked getting shot? Shit!

They had Eddie in cuffs, and a fucking muzzle! With a shaky breath, and even shakier legs, Steve walked over and sat down onto his bed. Eddie was here. Eddie was alive.. Alive.. Alive.. Eddie was alive. It played on a loop in his head, drowning out all other thoughts.

Eddie was alive.

Eddie was alive but… How? How was he- -Oh God I left him down there! I fucking left him there!- His body.. Dustin had begged him not to leave him behind and he.. Fuck! But. But how was he here? How was he alive? Did the Upside Down change Eddie the same way it changed him? Was he the same Eddie they knew? Or was he something else?

It didn’t matter because Eddie was alive.. He was alive. Eddie was… -Oh shit.- The cold? -Shit shit shit!- The cold feeling had come back more intense than ever when Eddie looked at him. Was he.. Was it him the whole time? He had felt it for the first time when he was still at home. Was it Eddie then too?

-Could it.. Could it maybe have been Eleven? Maybe she knew they were both here? Maybe she knew they saw each other and was trying to reach out? Maybe that cold feeling is her powers and wasn’t Eddie at all. I mean.. I never got to feel her powers before so it.. It’s possible.. Right?-

‘Fuck!’ He shouted, reaching up to grip his hair. His claws digging into his scalp. Had Eddie been here the whole time?!

-I figured it out.. Reality was far worse.-

Notes:

Gasp! Eddie finally! But.. Oh wait, where are you going? Come back!

Chapter 5: For How Long?

Summary:

How long has it been since he saw Eddie?
How long has he been Here?
How long. How long. How long...
How long until he loses his mind?

Notes:

Alternate chapter title: Steve has a swearing problem, but it's entirely valid.

Steve could barely sleep. -Are they hurting him?- He ate on autopilot. -Were they taking him to the lab?- He went through the motions almost unconsciously. -Will I see him again?... Why did they let me see him?- He didn’t acknowledge when the guard who slid in his food attempted to bait him. All he could think about, all he could focus on. Was Eddie.

He was lying on top of his blanket, trying to think over everything. The cold feeling. This place. Eddie… Eddie was alive.. Somehow. And there was nothing he could do.

-How many days has it been? I saw Eddie after my shower that was.. Yesterday? Two days ago?.. How long have I been here?- He laced his fingers together on top of his stomach. If he misbehaved, they’d hurt them both. He could take it but Eddie.. Who knows what he's been through.

So Steve would wait. He’d behave. He’d do whatever it is they wanted him to do. Just as long as Eddie was alive. If he behaved Eddie would be okay. -But.. Do I really believe that? He had looked… Hungry. He looked.. Wild. He looked.. Like I did after they..- He sucked in a deep breath. He didn’t want to think about that room. -It was so dark.-

He ran his tongue over his teeth. He could feel the prickle of his fangs. They hadn’t given him any blood since after the lab, and while it wasn’t yet at the point of starving, he was so very thirsty. -I feel like I can smell it. The scent of blood. Human. Animal. Is it.. All in my head?.. For all I know those assholes are holding a bag outside the door just to mess with me.-

As if summoned by his thought, he could hear. -One.. Two.. Five.. Seven.- Seven pairs of boots coming down the hall. He looked at the clock. It was an hour before breakfast. -What could they possibly want now?- Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The locks pounded against his skull. Should he get up?

Seven armed guards came into the room. -A little cramped for this party but hey, I’ve never been a bad host.- He sat up slowly. Two more guards were outside his door. They didn’t wait any longer for Steve to get up -thankfully I went to bed dressed- before they hauled him up by his arms and dragged him out of the room. He didn’t try to fight back. Didn’t struggle. He just got his feet under himself and walked as best as they allowed him to.

-Left, skip, skip, skip, skip, skip, skip, skip, left, skip, skip, right, skip, skip, all the way to the end. Oooh that's the longest one I’ve got down.- He nodded to himself with a dazed smile. -My own little cheat codes. Ha suck it Pac-Man!-

The guards brought him to a single grey door. It was unlike his own room, this one didn’t have heavy locks or a slit for food. He called this room the interrogation room. It was made of the same thick white concrete walls his own room had. The same boring white tile. But unlike his own room the back wall farthest from the door held several different monitors, all with their own attachments, colors, and wires.

The room also held a large rectangular steel table. In the middle of the table had built in metal cuffs, they had no slack so his wrists would be held down against it. The long sides of the table each held one steel chair. Thankfully, there were no IVs or sharp instruments in sight. -But that could change at any time.-

One of the guards walked him around the table towards the monitors. They roughly shoved him into the chair facing the door. Without asking for them, the guard grabbed his wrists, slamming them on the table. The cuffs were clicked closed around him. He hadn’t been in them in a long time, not since-. Not since his last punishment. -First of all, ouch. But also, great, now they don’t trust me enough to just sit here and answer their questions. Even if I wanted to, I can’t move.-

Steve however, isn’t particularly surprised by the cuffs. He did attempt to run after all. No, that wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was when all seven of the guards left the room. Instead a man in a waistcoat walked in. He looked in a way, vaguely familiar. Not that he was paying attention, it was the same with these people. Eventually they’d tell him what they wanted, they really liked to talk. They also really liked to try their hands at intimidation. But it didn’t hold up against the Russians. -Take that assholes!- He could see the man out of the corner of his eye as he rolled up his sleeves. -If you plan on hitting me you might want to call back in one of those guards. It looks like Will would hit harder than you-

‘Hello Steven.’ He grimaced at the use of his full name. ‘My name is-’

‘Brenner… Yeah I know who you are.. You’re supposed to be dead.’ He worded the last part more like a question. -So that’s where I know him from.- Steve remembers him from how Eleven described him. -Eleven had mentioned something about him being shot in.. From? A helicopter?... The details are a little fuzzy.-

‘Ah yes well. Nearly. But not quite. Thankfully. You see Steven-’ He walked around the table and began attaching different color pads and wires to Steve. An elastic cuff around his upper arm. Several different electrodes are attached to his temples.

‘Steve.’ He interrupts. ‘Just. Steve.’ … ‘Please.’ He adds in to be polite. Best to stay on their good side right now. -Not that I want to be.-

‘Alright, just Steve then.’ Brenner replies as he sits down across the table. -He looks like he’s forcing himself to be comfortable. Good…. Asshole.- Steve flexed his fingers just to have something to do.

‘Here’s what I’d like to happen. I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer as honestly as possible. Some of them may be a bit.. Odd. But I’d like your honest answer.’ Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. -Just answer my questions Steve or I’ll sit here trying to look menacing. Yeah well it just makes you look constipated! And… You know what.. I can play too.-

‘I’ll do my best.. I’ll answer everything as honestly as I can and I won't hold anything back.’ He had to bite his cheek to prevent himself from smiling. ‘If! If you also answer my questions and honestly too. We can.. We can go back and forth.’ He was playing his hand. If he wasn’t careful this could end up with him.. -No don’t think about that. This about…How desperately does he want this information?- He had to take this chance, he wouldn’t get another. But they could throw him into another lab or.. Or the dark room. They could lock him in his room without food for days. -They could do so much worse.- But he had to take this chance.

Brenner looked surprised, bordering on annoyed. -Honestly? They drag me kicking and screaming past Eddie and you don’t expect this? Are you really the same guy who kidnapped and experimented on a bunch of children? The same guy who controlled Vecna? Ha!-

Brenner let out a small hum. ‘Well. I suppose depending on the question.. Yes I can accept your terms.’ He fixed the collar of his suit, the nerves finally showing true, -Good. I could kill you with my teeth. You should be nervous… Oh. Oh no these are.. Bad thoughts Steve. Bad thoughts. You’re just hungry.-

‘In a show of good faith I’ll even let you ask the first question. But just so you know. If you lie Steven. I Will know.’ He motioned to the monitors. ‘And it will end badly for you.’

Steve nodded and did not hesitate for a moment. ‘Eddie-.’ He started. He wasn’t really sure which question he wanted to ask, he had so many running through his head right now. They hardly ever allowed him to ask what he’d like, let alone promise an answer.

‘Eddie is.. Is he okay?’ -Is he okay?! Out of everything I could have possibly asked, I asked… Is he okay?.. Because well fuck! I need him to be! Because if he wasn’t.. Well it really was just that simple.- Brenner raised a singular eyebrow at the question.

‘Mr. Munson is.. Uncooperative to say the least. He is alive, as much as either of you are considered to be now.’ -Well then. That answers another question I had.- ‘And he receives food just as you do. Now Steven, I must admit this wasn’t the question I expected from you. But be that as it may, do remember to tell the truth and answer fully.’

-Really he has no bedside manners.- He almost wanted to laugh at himself. But he restrained and instead gave the man a quick, stone faced, nod.

‘Very good. Now tell me, to the best of your knowledge, what date do you believe you came here? And what date do you believe it to be now?’

He had to think about that. -How is this.. I know I’ve tried to think about how long I’ve been here but I.. I never really… I know the battle with Vecna took place in March. It was fall- Spring! Spring break. I sat in the lab for.. Nearly a month. I think? It’s difficult to remember the finer details, they seem like a lifetime ago.-

He scrunched up his mouth as he thought it over. -But I was definitely in the lab for at least a whole month. I just.. Some of the other details are really vague. I remember there were.. Other times so it may have been longer than a month. I just.. I’m not really sure how long- Oh. Brenner looks really impatient.-

‘I… I think I was brought here in maybe.. Late May? Maybe June? I uh.. I’m not sure what the date is now. I think it might have been maybe.. A year? Year and a half?

Brenner wrote something down on his clipboard and.. When had he gotten that? ‘Hmm. Well not quite. But that’s to be expected.’ -Not quite?! On which part?! How long have I been here?!- It looked like Brenner was going to continue until his eyes narrowed and he motioned toward Steve.

‘Oh uh..’ He could ask so many different things. He could ask about the kids, about Hawkins. He could ask about Vecna. But right now that all seemed so far away. He wanted to ask how Eddie was alive, how was he here? But he doubts Eddie said anything to these people.

‘What.. What is this place? Where is this place?’ He’d been trying to figure that out too. For just about as long as he’d been here. And- Brenner let out a chuckle. -Uh.. What? Did I make a joke?-

‘This place as you put it Steven. Well it’s very similar to the Rainbow Room. It’s why I choose it to hold you both afterall. It’s called the Grey Room, very aptly named. It was previously used to house children with similar abilities to the ones in the Rainbow Room. Except here they were trained for specific purposes.’ He would have loved to relax back or scoot down the chair a little, but the cuffs kept him near straight backed against the chair. -Man this guy really loves to talk.-

‘The children here were trained for the purpose of being.. Mm weapons are a good choice of word. Killers. Assassins even. I sent a few here myself, those that were too strong for the Rainbow Room. They also did some.. Genetic.. Experimentation here. Which is another reason why I thought it would be helpful for us to house you both here.’

‘Now I’d like to know what they told you about how you became.. This.’ He gestures towards Steve. -I noticed how you avoided answering where we are. Why? Scared I'll get out?- They’d asked him this question hundreds of times already. His answer never changed. But then again, he’d never met Brenner either. So something had to have changed. -Besides Eddie.- Maybe giving an inch here could be beneficial in the long run. -What’s the saying.. Give an inch run a mile? No.. No, that's not right.- But they had showed him Eddie. He’s meeting the man in charge. Maybe they’re getting impatient. Maybe they’re testing him Maybe they were going to-.. It didn’t matter. Brenner was waiting for his answer.

‘It was..I’m not really sure. I think it started when I got hurt going into the Upside Down. I was dragged over the broken pavement and got cut open pretty bad. They. The doctors, said something about the wounds being infected. They reopened during our battle with Vec-.. One, and it made it worse-.’

Brenner interrupted him before he could continue. ‘Vec? Do remember you said you would not hold back Steven. Not if you’d like any more of your questions answered.’

Steve let out a quiet hum. -Yeah yeah. Not like I’m holding back state secrets. Why had they called him that again?.. Oh right! Their game.- ‘Oh um.. Yeah. Some of the others they played this.. Board game? They said One was like this character, Vecna. That they had.. Battled? Against. Because he was like a spell casting wizard? So. That’s what we called him.’

He nodded mostly to himself. -Yeah. Yeah okay good. See I remembered all that. That's.. That's good. Yeah good. It was for.. Dragons and Dice. No! No dragons and.. Dungeons?- His head was starting to hurt. He looked back up, when did he start staring at his fingers? Brenner waved him on to continue.

But Steve never told them the full truth on anything, he wasn’t going to start with this either. He’s pretty sure if he told them, especially if he told Brenner, the full truth, that they’d try and replicate it. Try to control it, control him them. He also highly doubts Eddie would have told them anything.

Brenner looked impatient again -Good-. ‘Oh uh. I think they mentioned something about there being spores in the air of the Upside Down. That the spores got into my wounds.’ -Technically true. But that had nothing to do with how I am now.- ‘I uh. I think that’s what caused the fever. I passed out from it but when I woke up I was.. This.’ He tried to gesture to himself but forgot about the cuffs, they only allowed him to move his fingers. Brenner raised his eyebrow again. -It doesn’t make you look as cool as you think it does.-

‘They told me the combination of infection with the spores may have been what caused the change.’ Brenner hummed in response as he wrote something down. He hoped, desperately, that he was a good enough liar.

‘I know you’ve been asked that before but that was very helpful. Thank you Steven.’ -Stop using that fucking name!- Brenner responded as he flipped through the clipboard, occasionally glancing at the monitors behind Steve and writing something down. ‘I believe it is your turn.’ He added before folding his hands over the clipboard.

He looked at Brenner’s hands. His fingers were occasionally twitching under Steve’s gaze. -Nervous then. Good. You’re locked in a room with a monster. At least you’re smart enough to know it.-

‘How did you find out about.. About me. About us.’ Did he really want to know? He did but.. What if.. What if it was exactly what he feared. What if it wasn’t at all what he thought? What if they thought him a monster and they-.

‘Ah, that actually took some time to figure out.’ Brenner, unknowingly, stopping Steve’s panic when he interrupted. ‘We were monitoring Hawkins or more specifically, Eleven, from the moment she arrived back.’ -We? Who is we? He said we before too didn’t he? Shit shit shit! SHIT!- ‘We heard about your little stint into the. Upside Down. And your injuries. I had originally wanted to move back into the lab but it was too risky with you all there. I did, however, still have access to the security cameras.’

-...What. No. No no no. No they knew. They knew the whole time?! They..- ‘Of course I saw several doctors running into your room. I assumed you had passed away. But then they moved you and I didn’t see you leave the lab for some time. At that point I assumed they had just discovered some underlying injury or disease. But that still isn’t how we found out about you.’

Brenner seemed to lean forward in.. Excitement? ‘We needed to be sure of what happened to you. So we were able to tap your phone calls. At this point we already had Mr. Munson.’ -But how?!- ‘We heard some chatter from your friends. Mentions of blood, of fangs, but nothing concrete. Until your good police chief called you.’

-Police chief?... Called me?.. Who.. Was I. Was I in trouble?- ‘He asked how your supply was faring. Which still wasn’t concrete enough to move in. But during your conversation he mentioned a recent incident at work. How you had accidentally.. What are the words he used?.. Ah yes, popped a claw, because of a customer.’

-...Hopper. It was. The police chief. The conversation. It’s Hopper. I know Hopper. Hopper was the one who.. He was the one who said we shouldn’t talk about any of it over the phone. So why did he? Why did..- ‘The entire conversation was the reason we had enough proof to collect you. We were of course, obviously, able to confirm what you are.’

He curled his fingers towards the table. -Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.- This was somehow both better and worse than he was expecting. It wasn’t the kids but.. But Hopper? No it.. It just wasn-. He took a deep breath in trying to calm himself. - Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t let him see you panic.-

Steve’s head shot up. -Was that..?- He took another long, deep, breath in. -Calm down. Focus.- Brenner’s fingers were twitching, subtly, but he noticed those types of things now. He kept glancing at that clipboard. His heart… It -Oh.-

Brenner’s heartbeat had picked up. And he smelt.. Scared? -No. No, that's not right.- He smelt wrong. -Ooohh ho ho. You little liar. You wanted me to believe that Hopper. That Hopper Mr. ‘Do not under any circumstances talk about this shit over the phone, just in case.’ sold me out. You fucking-.-

Brenner smelt wrong. Steve could smell the subtle adrenaline, the tang of fear, he could see the man feigning confidence. -He looks uncomfortable.- Brenner shifted in his seat, just barely at Steve’s stare. He stunk. Like sour milk, sharp like vinegar, wrong. Wrong. Wrong. -So that’s your game. Well then.-

He looked back down at his hands. ‘I.. I guess it’s your turn.’ He whispered, letting a small shake come to his hands.

‘I understand it’s hard to hear Steven. But shall we continue? Or-?’ -No fucking bedside manner. Yeah.. Yeah asshole, let's continue. You’ll get what's coming to you.. I’ll make sure of it.- Steve just stared at him, letting silence settle over them.

Brenner looked back at his clipboard, the scent of sour milk slowly dissipating. ‘And how did you react to the people around you once you changed?’ They knew exactly how he reacted. Again, another question he had been asked hundreds of times. Were they testing his memory? Or were they searching for something?

‘...Not well, at least I don’t think it went well. I wasn’t really in control of myself. And I don’t remember much before I passed out but.. They said I tried to bite both of the doctors that came in to help me.’ He looked down at his fingers meekly. Slowly he stretched them out letting them pop before curling them into loose fists.

‘I wouldn’t listen to them. They tried to get me to stop but I was.. I was hungry.’ He licked his lips letting a hint of fang show through. He looked at Brenner and he looked.. Was that.. He wanted to laugh. Did he look worried? Concerned? Whatever it was, it wasn’t an exact emotion he could place on the man.

He wasn’t panicking anymore, if he took more deep breaths Brenner would notice and they’d find out he could smell them. So ever so subtly, just enough so that it wasn’t noticeable, he flared his nostrils. Taking in a small breath and it smelled.. Like cold blood. It smelled dull, flavorless, stale even. Like dust in a room long sealed and forgotten. Breanner was.. He was bored.

So not the answer Brenner was hoping for then? Maybe he wanted to hear that he lost control, killed people. -Jokes on you asshole. I’m better than you all think I am. I’m a fucking person!-

‘Tried? Did you not bite them? How did you gain control?’ Breanner once again leaned forward, waiting for his answer.

Steve raised his own eyebrow this time. ‘I believe.. It’s my turn to ask a question now.’ He really, really wanted to laugh as the man sat back. -Aww you’re disappointed.- It was his turn to lean forward, nearly out of the chair as he stared at Brenner. The man nearly falling backwards into his seat. ‘What do you want with us.’

‘Well. Isn’t that quite the question. But unfortunately Steven it is the wrong question.. Now our little back and forth is over. It’s time you finish answering my questions.’ -The wrong questions?! What do you mean the wro-... Because if you answer it I'll know the truth… Which is what exactly?-

Steve wanted to punch the other man in his smug face. ‘The wrong question? You had said-’

Brenner interrupted ‘I had said, depending on the question. But since that was the wrong question. I’ll ask again. Did you not bite your doctors? How did you gain control?’.... ‘Don’t make me repeat myself Steven.’

He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw the table across the room. He wanted.. -I want to fucking kill him. I want to.. I want.. Breathe Steve. Deep breaths. You don’t know where Eddie is. Show your hand now and you’ll never get another chance.-

‘No… No I didn’t I um.. They uh. They managed to restrain me before I could bite anyone. I had..’ He took a deep breath flexing his fingers once more. -Just answer his questions Steve. It’ll be fine. You’ll get this chance again.- ‘I had passed out sometime while they were trying to help me. When um.. When I woke up I was still restrained but I had calmed down.. A little bit.’

-Maybe I would have been a bit more honest. But fuck you man!- ‘They’d um. They’d given me some strong painkillers before I.. Changed. The doctors said they had probably still been in my system which is what kept me calm. But they weren’t really sure about it.’

He shrugged, as best as he was able to. He definitely wasn’t about to try and explain that the thought of hurting one of his kids is what kept him from trying to break free.

Steve took another subtle breath in. Both to try and relax but also to scent. And now Brenner smelled.. Interested? In the silence he could once again hear the way Brenner’s heart quicked, just barely, but still noticeable.

This time Brenner smelled like tension. Like his blood itself was leaning forward waiting for more. -So this is what they were after.- They wanted to know how he reacted, how the change would affect someone. -You might not have answered outloud but you sure did give me exactly what I wanted to know which is…. Fuck! They couldn’t possibly try to recreate it.. Could they?-

No.. No. Not without Eleven. Not without a way to open another gate and get in to the Upside Down.

But what if they had..

No. They definitely didn’t. Because they would have tried by now. There were greedy, selfish, kidnapping pieces of shit.

But they took sample after sample of blood. Possibly Probably took Eddie’s too. Could they use it to-?.. No. If it worked that way then Brenner would have done it already. That man didn’t care about repercussions. He didn’t care about hurting anyone else. He just cared about getting what he wanted.

But they’ve definitely tried it. He’s certain of that. Probably the first thing they did too. But it didn’t work.. Has his blood killed someone? -That’s not my problem! I didn’t do it. They did! I mean this piece of shit is the one who tortured Eleven… I think I want to kill him just for that alone.- So they were still asking questions because they had no way to open a gate. No way to replicate him them. -Good.-

He slowly licked over his teeth again. It made Brenner uncomfortable, scared even. Suddenly he sat up straighter. Brenner never mentioned it and he needed to know. ‘Wait a second! How.. How long have I been here?’ He tried not to look as nervous as he felt. But his voice started to shake.

Brenner just gave him a look, but proceeded to write on his clipboard like he never asked the question. -How long have I been in this place? And where was this place? Are we even still in Hawkins? In America?!- It felt like he’d been here for an eternity. But what if it had only been six months? -What I really don’t want to know is… What if it's been longer.-

They cut his hair when they took samples, so he couldn’t use that as an indicator of time. -Maybe that’s why they did it. This whole thing is just a game to them. Maybe they want to see how long it will take until I finally go mad. Well jokes on them! I’m totally sane!... Sometimes.-

Brenner knew exactly what he was doing, ignoring him, but he can play the game too. -He looks almost smug, asshole.- But he felt numb inside.

‘We’ve taken notice that you prefer human blood. Why? Does it make you feel stronger?’ Lie lie lie. -Don’t panic. Don’t let them know. Stay calm.-

‘No.’ His face was entirely blank. They’d get nothing out of him. Not anymore. ‘It just tastes better than animal blood. It’s like. Like how a strong cup of coffee would affect anyone else. It has a bit more of a kick than animal blood does.’ -Good, that's good.- ‘When I told my doctors that before they said something about the complexities of the.. Human experience?’

He tried to shrug again as Brenner turned back to his clipboard, furiously writing on his papers again. -Shit shit shit, please believe me. Please believe me. Please belie-.-

‘Interesting. Good to know. If human blood doesn’t make you stronger, do you think something like steroids or another drug would work the same as they do on people, on you? -Fuck you you piece of shit you fucking-. You asshole! I’m a person too! Why would you even.. Knowing them they’d probably try to make a better soldier which is-.. Which is probably exactly why he’s asking.-

‘Oh um.. I don’t think so? I mean it’s not something I’ve thought about before. But I think it would probably work itself out of my system too fast.’ He said calmly, though he was raging inside. But he definitely pulled that answer out of thin air. But it might also be true. He has no idea.

Brenner nodded along as he watched the monitors behind Steve. ‘Good to know.’ -Was it? Good for who exactly?- ‘On to our next one then.’ He flipped through the papers once again. -I know the questions aren’t there you pretentious dick. The Russians had more tact in their finger nails. Ha! Then you have in your entire being!-

‘I don’t believe you’ve been asked this one before. But based on our data and observation of you.’ -I.e you lot are perverts.- ‘Has your sexual appetite increased?’ -EXCUSE ME?! You perverts! I knew it! I fucking knew you were monitoring me at night!... Probably in the showers too… Good to know.-

And this was a new question. But he had no idea how it would affect anyone, unless of course they’re trying to breed in a new race of enhanced soldiers and.. Oh man! -Everytime I think it can’t get any worse. I should know better by now.- He supposes honesty would be best here. He isn’t really sure how to answer though. Does he tell Brenner he only tries to think about it during his longer showers? Just because he, now with confirmation, knows they’re watching him in his bed? But he’s definitely had.. Changes.. There too.

‘I uh.. Maybe? I mean I find it a little hard to focus on anything like that here.’ -Liar. The nights are long and oh so very lonely. And even before coming here I hadn’t had sex in… A while. But best not to admit anything like that to you perverts.-

Brenner raised an eyebrow again. -God I think I might hate this man more than Hopper does.- ‘I mean.. I’ve noticed something like.. There’s definitely.’ He cleared his throat. ‘More.. When I finish.’ -Shit this is so awkward, please ask me something else. Why aren’t you asking me anything else? Stop looking at me like that!-

‘And uh.. I can um.. There isn’t really a resting period after that so..’ He once again tried to shrug. When he couldn’t he just took a deep breath in. He found this so awkward and-.. Brenner smelt amused. -That dick.-

‘Hmm. Interesting. Very interesting.’ -Choke on it man. I’m definitely going to have something to talk to Hopper about later… Hopefully- ‘Let’s get back to blood. Tell me how the difference in animal and human blood tastes to you.’

-Oh back to blood are we? Oh yeah totally not awkward at all. Not even a little.- ‘It's.. It’s like.. Animal blood tastes like leftover cold pizza that’s been sitting on the counter overnight. Even when it’s been heated.’ He’s not about to tell the full truth. They don’t need to know he can tell the difference between a cow or a pig by the smell alone. He doesn’t need to admit that he can taste if the animal was pregnant or if it was scared when they drew the blood. They definitely don’t need to know anything about human blood from him.

‘Human blood is more like a fresh pizza straight from the oven compared to animal so.. It’s just a preference I guess. Like how some people prefer dark chocolate over milk chocolate.’ Here Brenner looked stumped. Did he believe he’d find gold here? As if he’d let slip anything that could be used against him. Against Eddie.

Brenner continued to question him on and on until it was nearly dinner. His stomach had let out a loud growl midway through the interrogation. It made him realize they didn’t feed him today. Was that a test too?

‘Alright I suppose we can end it here today.’ As Brenner said it, the seven guards from that morning reentered the room. One went over to unlock his wrists while two more moved to take him by the upper arms. -I don’t plan on running assholes. Where would I go?-

‘You managed to give some very satisfactory answers today. Well done.’ -You managed to sound so smug. Congratulations dickhead… Oh man… I might need to wash my own mouth out at this point.- He was jarred from his thoughts as the guards pulled him towards the door. Before they could leave the doorway Brenner cleared his throat.

‘Oh and Steven..’ Here Brenner turned around towards him. -Slowly, like a Bond villain.-A hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

‘You’ve been here for over two years.’

Chapter 6: So Many Questions. Not Enough Answers.

Summary:

Steve thinks on what he knows.
Panics.
Thinks on it again.
Fails.
Makes a plan.

Or: Steve has a rough night in his room.

Notes:

Steve finally has a panic attack.

Two years… He’s been in this place for Two. Whole. Years. Two years of being poked, prodded, tortured, experimented on, and starved. Just two years. But it's felt like a lifetime. -But it’s not just two anything. It’s two years of my life. Two years I’ll never get back… Two. Years.-

Steve was back in his room, but he couldn’t calm down. Pacing back and forth, he wanted to punch something. Preferably Brenner in his smug condescending face. Two years of this small shitty room where they watched him night and day. He sucked in a sharp breath.

-Except no.. No that’s not right Brenner had said.. Brenner said it had been over two years. That could be.. That could be anything. He specifically said over but.. Was it just to mess with me? No. No he’s a dick but. He knows exactly what he’s doing. So it’s been..- His blood felt like ice, he stood frozen. -I’ve been here at least two years. But definitely more. Fuck! No one. No ones come. No ones looking.-

-How long has it really been? Did everyone just think I disappeared? Do they think I left? Do they know where I am? Is anyone-.. Why hasn’t anyone-.. Why?...- He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Have the kids graduated high school yet? -I was going to throw them this grand party to celebrate everything they’ve done, everything they’ve been through. He wanted to throw up. -I was saving up as much as I could for it too. So when they did I’d have enough for everything, even gifts. I wanted them all to be happy. I wanted us all to be happy again..I was even going to try and get back in my pool.- He let out a shaky exhale.

Did Robin go off to college? -We promised each other we’d still be best friends, soulmates, even if she went a million miles away. She was… There was something she was trying to do. What was she trying to-... Oh.. She wanted me to follow her so we’d always be close. But I couldn’t leave the kids. I was.. I was supposed to teach her to drive that summer wasn’t I? Did she learn from someone else? Nancy maybe?- His chest felt tight.

Nancy was.. -Did she go off to college? Did I.. Did I ever tell her that I.. I forgive her for what she did. I need her to know that. It was shitty but. I forgive her. I don’t know why I said what I did the. The kids and the dream. I think I was scared of.. Of being alone. But.. But maybe she’ll teach Robin to drive for me.- He pressed his back against the wall between his cabinet and bed. Slowly he slid down it, his hands shaking.

And Jonathan. -I.. We were just becoming real honest friends too. He apologized to me for everything, I apologized to him too. We cried together over what we’ve been through. He.. He gave me photos of me and the kids. He visited me in the lab… He gave me a hug too. The day before I.. Got here.-

He brought his knees to his chest. His chest felt too tight. Breathing was- was he breathing? He tried to suck in air but it felt like it was coming through a straw. Too thin. Too shallow. His hands tingled, pins and needles. He looked down, were they shaking? Yes. Almost violently. His fingers curled involuntarily, clawed, towards his palms.

It was like the room was spinning then righted itself. Over and over. He could hear the heartbeats of the guards outside his door, but it felt like someone had turned up the dial on reality too high. They were so, so, loud. But also somehow muffled, like he was underwater.

His skin felt too tight, too hot. He wanted to rip off the hospital gown but it meant being exposed. He gasped trying to get more air in his lungs but there wasn’t enough. Not in the room. Not anywhere. -Try to anchor yourself to something. Anything.- He roughly pressed his palms against the cold tile of the floor.

-This is it you’re dying Steve. I’m going to die in this shitty lab and no one will know. No one will help me.- Tears blurred his vision. Shame followed, heavy, choking. Why? Why after so long couldn’t he just hold it together? It's been two years and no ones come for him. Two years and… -Eddie’s been here the whole time.-

Then slowly, ever so slowly, the panic started to recede. The air returned in stuttering gasps. The shaking in his hands lessened against the tile floor, but didn’t dissipate entirely. His world slowly coming back into focus, but it felt bruised, unsteady. Like everything had shifted a fraction to the left. -Eddie has been in this hell the whole time. If I die now.. I’m the only one who knows he’s alive. No one would know to help him….. I can’t die here.-

He tilted his head towards the ceiling, avoiding looking at the security camera. But the thoughts didn’t just magically go away. What about his parents?

Did they even care he was gone? -No. Probably not if I’m being honest with myself. And I need to be.. Honest that is. If I’m going to survive for Eddie. to get us out of here.- Steve took another lung full of air. - I.. I remember them calling after the earthquake to ask about the state of their house. They didn’t ask about me. Even though I know they’ve heard the cover story, I know the suits talked to them about me being a ‘hero’. They just wanted to know about their house.- He slowly exhaled.

He needed to get up off the dirty floor. He needed to. But his legs felt like warm jello. -I can vaguely remember them saying they weren’t coming back to Hawkins. That they wanted me to take care of the house for them… But. But that might have been a dream. I… I don’t know.-

He gripped the edge of the bed like his life depended on it. Slowly, very slowly, Steve got to his feet. He could barely stand. -Water I need.. You’re supposed to drink water after something like this.. Right?- He hobbled his way over to the sink in the corner of the room. They didn’t give him any cups so he had to lean down to scoop water into his mouth from the faucet.

When he couldn’t drink anymore he managed to make his way back to the bed. Falling heavily on top of it. None of this, none of his questions mattered in the end. He’d never find out their answers. Because either way, he has been here for two whole years.

What day was it? What month? Fuck! What even was the year?! -This is just one big game to them. Of course that asshole wouldn’t give me the truth.- He roughly ran his hands through his hair, a nervous habit he needed to get rid of. -Unless I want to go bald soon.- His claws hadn’t receded but he was careful enough to only scrape at his scalp this time.

The bed felt like stone under him. -How long has it been since I saw Eddie? A day? A week? It couldn’t have been longer than that.- His head felt like it was filled with tar. His thoughts moving too fast through him that they got stuck halfway, never making it to the end.

-This is exactly what Brenner wanted to happen. He was probably watching the camera. Watching me have my breakdown. They were probably laughing at me too. And.. Who am I kidding? Of course they are! They got off on this!-

But.. What about everyone else? -Did Hawkins recover from the earthquakes? Did they ever find out if Vecna was actually dead? Did.. Did they know Eddie was alive? No. No they couldn’t have. They don’t.- He shook his head trying to dislodge his thoughts.

What about the kids? What about Dustin and Will? Eleven and Mike? Max? Erica? Lucas? What about Hopper and Joyce? Oh fuck he was totally fired too. Or did Keith just assume he finally quit? -I wasn’t going to!-

He sucked in a much needed breath. -Control my thoughts. Control my thoughts. Don’t panic. Just.. What do I know?-

He knows Dustin. -Dustin. He was so excited over making me a character sheet. For.. For.. Demons and. No. Dice and no.. Focus. Okay come back to that. It’s okay Steve what else do I know? I know.. He was. Dustin was supposed to go visit Suzie that summer. Did he? Did.. Did he learn to drive yet? I was going to surprise him. Let him learn in my car. Does he.. Did he have his own car now?-

He knows Will and Eleven. -They were practically attached at the hip those two. Will.. After Dustin he has to be my favorite. Not.. Not that I have fav-. Don’t lie to yourself. Okay yes I do. But I love all those kids. But Will was so quiet. So sad sometimes too. I.. Gave him something? What did-. A mixtape! Yeah I got a bunch of his favorite songs onto a mixtape because he lost his during their move.. Their second one. He was. He was so happy.-

He nodded to himself slowly laying back onto the bed. He could do this. Remember his kids. Remember everyone. -And Eleven. She struggled still with talking sometimes but she was so happy to be back. Especially when she saw all the Eggos I stocked my freezer with just for her. She… Her hair was short again.. I think?-

Deep breath. -Max was.. Everyone visited her. I visited her too. Did..I.. Did she wake up before I left? I. I can’t remember… I can’t.. Is Max okay?... Please be okay.- He closed his eyes tightly. Please. Please. Please.

Erica and Lucas. Think about Erica and Lucas. -Lucas got so protective over Erica after everything. Scared that Andy would jump out of a bush and attack her. But.. Erica was only kind of annoyed at him for it. ‘Cause.. Because I think she thought it too.-

Joyce and Hop-... -Brenner tried to say Hopper sold me out. Fucking liar. As if he would ever. Ever. Do that! Joyce would never forgive him for it. So no. Hopper didn’t do that. I can’t believe it for a second…. Except that I did.. But I don’t!- The shaking in hands was beginning to worsen.

He needed to calm down. To focus. He needs to.. He needs.. What did he need? -I know what I want. But what do I need?- He slowly took a deep breath in. -I need Eddie to be okay. I need to see him again. I need to get us out of here.- He looked over to the camera. -But first I need to figure out where here is.- He needs… They. They need to survive this. -I need to make a plan. Yes! A plan. That’s good. Somewhere, somewhere to start. Something to focus on.-

He rolled to face away from the camera, bringing his scratchy blanket with him. -First things first. Brenner said Eddie and I are the same now.- He nodded to himself, his eyes closed to try and block out the world. -Brenner said Eddie was given food too, but did that include blood? If they were the same then.. Then Eddie needed it just as much as I do.-

Steve tried, once, to hoard the blood they gave him with dinner. He tried to hide it so he’d have more when he needed it. That.. That didn’t end well. So there wasn’t much he could do for Eddie there, assuming of course that they let them see each other again that is.

But he saw the way Eddie looked and he looked.. Well hungry doesn’t exactly cover it. He looked like a caged animal. He looked ravenous.. Starved even. Did the muzzle-.

He shot up off his bed ready for a fight. But it was just the slit in the door being opened. He was too focused on his thoughts to notice the footsteps. -Oh.. Right. Dinner.- The guard slid a tray in and it.. Smelled.. Good?

Wordlessly he walked over and picked it up, to lost within his own head to even mumble out a thank you. -Not that they deserve my thanks.- He noticed the tray wasn’t full of the normal grey unappetizing sludge, or the raw meat strips. Of course there was the usual bread and carrots, thankfully cooked again. But instead of the odd pudding sludge there was.. Was that pasta salad? And corn too.

There was also a fully cooked burger on his tray.. An actual burger. With a bun! That was.. Was it.. Is there cheese too?! -Fuck a cheese burger has me this happy? That’s pretty pathetic.- Next to it even sat a full sized banana. Of course he couldn’t forget the bag of blood sitting next to it all. Human blood! -Ooh fuck yes!-

Is this.. Did Brenner do this? Was it because he answered his questions? -Guess I am a good liar.- Did Eddie get to eat this too? Or was it..

Were they trying to impress their boss on his visit by actually feeding him? -Mm no. Brenner made it sound like he was here often. He had to have known how I was being fed.- So was this just to placate him? Or was this a reward for a job well done? Whatever it may be he had actual food.. And human blood!

As he turned to walk back to his bed, his legs steadier with each step, he allowed himself a subtle breath in. Did he know what poison smelled like? No. But he thinks he could identify if the food had been tampered with. He would definitely be able to tell if the blood was tampered with.

But it all smelled normal to him, good even. The blood had been taken willingly -it didn’t even smell of fear-, he thinks.. Female? Definitely not someone too old either. They were healthy, but had a hint of sickness creeping in. -Probably just a cold but.. I must be starving to be able to smell it all without even opening the bag yet.-

His mouth was watering. Sitting down on the bed he, calmly, opened the blood bag. He wouldn’t allow them to see how hungry he was. -I’m still a person you assholes. Start treating me like one!- Was he getting angrier recently? -Well yeah, but if they didn’t want me to be so angry maybe oh I don’t know. You shouldn’t have brought me here as a start. Maybe I don’t know? Don’t torture someone? Don’t starve them.-

He shouldn’t have been experimented on. They shouldn’t have kidnapped either of them. They definitely shouldn’t have shown him Eddie. If they didn’t want Steve to be so angry, they should have treated them both like people. But he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Let them see how angry he really was. They’d become stricter. They’d take away his ‘privileges’ like showers or days where he can relax. They’d become meaner. -They’d probably just start giving me trays of raw ground meat. Or put me back in the dark r..-

Steve was so, so, very angry. But he needed to bide his time. Work on a plan. -Baby steps Steve, baby steps.-

In the end, the bigger picture, he and Eddie get out of here. But the beginning.. Survive. Hopefully, maybe, even see Eddie again… Soon. Hopefully. He’d take what he could get.

But he still had so many questions. Did his friends even look for him? -Of course they did!... Right?- Did they know Eddie was alive? -Probably not. I mean I’m the one with the inhuman senses and I didn’t know until they showed him to me.- Did Max ever wake up? Did she.. Is she okay? -God I hope so.- Was he even still in Hawkins? -...- Did his parents-. -I don't care.- Was Eddie okay? -I don’t know.-

Please be okay.

Chapter 7: What Is My Name?

Summary:

What's his name?
Why does it hurt so much?
Is this real?

Notes:

Warning: Some torture in this chapter.

‘My name is Stev-... Steven Joseph Harrington. I-I live in Hawkins, Indiana. I work. Worked. At Family Video with my best.. With my friend Robin Buck-Buckley. My.. My friends are.. Robin Buckley. Nan- Nancy Wheeler. J-Jonathan Byers. And. And Dustin. My. My kid Dus- Dustin Henderson. I-I have other kids but. But that one’s mine. Mine… My. Kid.’

He couldn’t feel his hands anymore. Not really. He knew they were there, he could glance down at them. But he couldn’t move his head. Why couldn’t he move his head? But that wasn’t all. From his head to his toes, he couldn’t move. And every part of him aches. But not from movement, from stillness. -Oh.-

‘My. My name is S- Steven J- Joseph Harrington. I-I live in H-Hawkins, Indiana. I.. I work at.. I worked with-. With my best friend R-Robin Buckley. My f-friends.. My friends are. R-Robin. Robin Buckley. Nancy.. Nancy…. Byers, J-Jonathan B-Byers. And m-my kid. Dustin. Th- There are other kids.. I-I have other kids. I work at… I work… I.. I.. I don’t know.. I don’t know.’

His breath came in a shallow gasp. Each inhale feeling as sharp as broken glass, cutting through his lungs. He struggled to keep his eyes open. -It’ll only be worse if I close them. Come on Steve. Just.. Just remember.-

‘My name is.. My name is S. Ste-. Steven J-J.. Jos.. Steven H-Harrington. I live in H-Hawkins, Indiana.’ He could see his breath rising as he spoke. ‘R-Robin Buckley is.. Is my best friend. My. My other friends a-are. N-N-Nancy Wheel.. Wheels. A-and J-Jon- Jonathan Byers. Dustin. Dustin Henderson i-is my kid. There are. Th-There are other kids their names.. Their n-names are-... Dustin is my k-kid.’

He let his eyes roam. Ignoring his torso. The only clothing he was allowed was his underwear. But they had attached wires, cuffs, and different pads to him, everywhere. His head and neck were strapped down to a metal table, propped up only by a metal bar at his neck. So was every few inches of his skin, strapped down. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even wiggle. He tried to move his fingers but they weren’t listening. He had stopped feeling his toes hours ago.

‘My name. My name is… Steven H-Harrington. I live in. In Hawkins…’ He looked at his fingers. His skin was pale, devoid of all color. His nails were longer, but not yet claws. Caught somewhere in between, stuck. Like he was. ‘My best. My best friend is Robin. I-I have other friends. Nan-Nancy Wheel. Jona- Jonathan.. Beers. I have a.. I have a kid. Dus… Dustin. Dustin H-Henderson is my kid.’

His thoughts were beginning to drift, slow, dreamlike. A strange calm was settling over him, like his mind was stepping back. Watching it all from far away. He knew that wasn’t good. He knew he should fight to stay awake, to stay here, but even that fear was fading away. It was just cold. Nothing else. Just cold.

‘Name. My name. Is.. It’s.. Steve. My name is-is Steve H-Harrington. I-I live in.. Hawkins.’ He smiled at the steam of his breath. -Were they going to leave me here?- ‘My name is.. Steve Harrington. I.. I live in H-Hawkins. R-Robin Bucky is- is my best f-friend. Mm. My other friends are N-N-..Nanny. A-and J-Jona-.. Jon. I have a-a kid. D-Dustin. Dustin is.. Is my kid.’

He sucked in a longer breath, praying the pain in his lungs went away, like the others did. -How.. How long have I been in here? Am I going to die?... It’s so cold.- Even his thoughts were slowing down. He looked at his fingers again. He managed a twitch of his index finger, but the effort drained more energy than it was worth.

’I’m.. Steve…. Steve. I live… Robin is- is my b-best friend. Jon is.. My friend. Dustin.. Dustin is my kid.’ His voice got quieter the longer he spoke. How long were they going to keep making him do this? Has it been a day? Two? Every breath he took felt thinner than the last. What if they just left him here?

‘Mm S-Steve. My friends… I-I have f-friends. My kid.. My k-kid is.. Dustin. M-My k-kid is Dustin.’ He could see the ice patterns crawling up the metal walls. -Metal.. Makes.. Dustin said.. Conductive. Keeps.. Keeps cold.-

‘Mm S-Steve… Dus-Dusin.. Dust-tin. Dustin. I-Is my k-kid.’ His eyes were starting to close. But he couldn’t fall asleep. They wanted him to fall asleep, wanted to punish him for it. -Don’t sleep… Don’t sleep. Don- Sleep.-

‘Dustin.. My kid.’ He mumbled out, his eyes too heavy to keep open.

---

Steve was screaming. He couldn’t stop. Every cell in his body felt like it was on fire. He thought the cold was bad, but it was easy. Just a slow subtle feeling until he fell asleep. But the heat.. The heat started out quiet, like a whisper. An almost unnoticeable change in the air. Like someone across the room had opened an over.

Then it grew. It thickened. It turned the air syrupy, sticking to his lungs like hot tar. Breathing became more and more of a task with each inhale. Instead of the sharp cutting feeling of the cold, the heat felt like cinder blocks building on his chest. Each inhale clawed down his throat, dry and searing.

Not even the sweat was subtle. Instead it grouped together in puddles. The nape of his neck, along his spine, in the hollows of his knees and elbows. But it sizzled away almost as quickly as it came. Stolen by the heat before it could offer relief. His skin prickled, flushed, burned. The walls seemed to pulse with a reddish glow. The table, once cold as ice, seemed to radiate like a stove coil. The bar beneath his neck feeling like a branding iron. Even the doorknob glared at him from across the room, like a warning, metal turned molten.

But it wasn’t just the temperature. There was a pressure too. A relentless, invisible tide, rising higher, hotter, pressing him down. He couldn’t think. Who was he? How long has he been here? Time turned, seconds stretched, twisted, bent into an endless void of nothing. And then realization settled like lead in his chest. It wasn’t just the heat in the room. There was fire. And it was coming closer.

The first lick of flame against his skin has him pushing the boundaries of his restraints, begging to get away, for it to stop, to let him out. He was screaming himself raw. His claws having pierced the bending metal below him. This was it. He was going to die.

The flames surrounded him on all sides. He was screaming to the point his voice gave out. He could smell it. Smell himself. Burning. His eyelids fluttered, it felt as if the lashes themselves were burning to ash. His eyes closed. He let the darkness in.

---

He woke up in the lab. No soft shake or ease into wakefulness. But a sudden jolt, his eyes snapping open. His breath quickening until he realized there was no ice, no fire. But he could still hear the sizzle of his flesh. Could still feel the way his fingertips burnt with cold. Could still feel the way his neck burnt against the metal bar.

There were doctors moving around him. -No doctors is wrong.. Scientists?- They were talking to one another to focused on their research to notice he was awake. He was still strapped down but was it the same metal table, or a different one? He doesn’t know. He slowly looked down at his fingers, avoiding the rest of himself. He was.. Fine?

-I’m.. Okay? Well.. I’m alive. I think?.. As much as I can be. I.. Was that all a dream? Am I. Am I going crazy? Did I.. Imagine it all? Is this all just inside my head? Is Eddie.. Is Eddie even alive? No I.. I couldn’t have imagined this. I’ve seen things but. But this would be a whole never level of insane, even for me.-

He wasn’t covered in ice, nor was he burnt to a crisp. He was fine. His skin back to normal. -Or well as normal as scars from demogorgons, plates being smashed on my head, and those demo-bat bites can be. If that’s considered normal then, sure. I’m back to normal.-

He was jerked back from his thoughts as the doctors harshly pulled the wires off his temples. No. This place was a cruelty even his darkest thoughts could not have envisioned. This was real. He was real. Eddie was real.

-What.. What happened? Did I upset them?.. Was it because of the questions?.. Maybe that food was drugged? No. Wait. Think.- He remembers the human blood. -Of course it was human, they wanted me strong enough for this. But they didn’t know about..- He remembers the delicious food they had given him. -Cheeseburger.- He could feel his saliva pooling in his mouth. His stomach growling. -How long have I been down here?-

-No. No wait, it wasn't the food.- He remembers waking up the next morning. The guards took him to the showers and told him to make it quick. There was only a bar of soap and a pair of underwear on the bench this time. No hospital gown. -Oh..-

-Right, skip, skip, skip, right, skip, skip, skip, left. Then we went.. Down? Two? Three?- The parts in between are fuzzy. Like he’d hit his head again. -Or had a plate smashed on.. Except this time I didn’t.. But.. But I remember walking into the lab. They.. They’d put me in the chair. Like.. Like at the dentist except with straps. Way more straps. The had.. Given me something?.. Yeah it looked.. Green? Into my arm. It felt thick and.. It hurt.-

He can vaguely remember the walk from the lab into the metal room. -Name.. I should give it a name.. Hehe.. The four seasons.- He wanted to laugh until the scientists ripped off one of the pads on the bottom of his feet. -Fuck!- His back arched off the table, they stopped, wrote more into their notes, and kept on working.

-They told me to talk to myself. But I had to say my name. I had to introduce myself, then I could say whatever I wanted. But it needed to be repeated. For their research. How long had I… I remember it a few times over.

My name is Steven Joseph Harrington. I prefer to just be called Steve.
I got turned into a vampire by the Upside down.
I live in Hawkins, Indiana.
I work at Family Video with my best friend Robin Buckley.
Our boss Keith is a dick.
My other friends are Nancy Wheeler. Jonathan Byers. And Dustin Henderson.. And Eddie Munson too. He’s alive.
Eddie’s alive and a vampire too.
I babysit a bunch of kids.
They’re my friends too.
Mike Wheeler. Lucas Sinclair. Erica Sinclair. Will Byers. Max Mayfield. And Eleven too.
But Dustin.. He’s my favorite.
He’s my kid.
We’ve all gone into the Upside Down together.
We’ve fought Demogorgons and demo-dogs, bats too.
And we defeated Vecna together.
They’re my family.
Joyce and Hopper too.

How many times did I manage to repeat it? Forty times? Fifty? How many times did I fail?..-

A sharp, less painful, breath was sucked in through his nose as a needle was pressed into his arm. -Here we go again.- Steve thought as his vision slowly started to blacken. -One of these days. Something will finally kill me.-

---

He came to with a groan of pain. His body hurt. But he was.. In his bed? He patted the blanket below him. -Yup. Definitely my bed.- How did he get back? Was it all just a-. -Nope. No. Thought that already. I mean.. Maybe I imagined the flames because.. I’m fine? But that all definitely happened.-

He sat up with a groan, looking around. -Definitely my room.- He noticed that sitting on his desk was a tray with a bag of blood. But he couldn’t be bothered to get up right now. Flopping back down he took another deep nearly pain free breath in. -Assholes. I hope it was worth it…. No I don’t.-

It took Steve another half hour before he had enough strength to walk over and grab the tray. It took him even longer to finish it. -At least it was decent food. And human blood again.- But really it all just tasted like ash in his mouth.

He wanted to be sick. Wanted to scream. Shout. Punch someone. -Preferably Brenner. Preferably through a wall.- But he couldn’t. Not now at least. -Bide my time. Go through whatever shit. Whatever hell they have in store for me. Find Eddie.. Escape.- He repeated it over and over and over, until his hands stopped shaking and the pain faded completely.

-Find Eddie. Escape. Bide my time. Fine Eddie. Escape. It’s been two years. I can wait a little longer.- He tossed the tray onto the floor. -Find Eddie. Escape.- Laying back Steve let his eyes roam until he settled on the ceiling. Nothing to do except trace his usual pattern over and over again. Lulling himself into a calm sleep.

-My name is Steve Harrington.
I’m a vampire.
Eddie Munson is alive.
He’s a vampire too.
We’ll escape this.
Together.
We’ll go home.
Together.-

Notes:

Eventually, Steve and Eddie will be together. I promise.

Chapter 8: Is It.. A Happy Birthday?

Summary:

Steve gets some much needed alone time.
Until that gets interrupted.
He attempts to plan.
Almost panics.
Socks.

Notes:

No warnings except you know.. Brenner is his own warning.

Steve’s spent the last several days locked in his room. After their latest batch of tests he was given blood with each meal, two showers, and plenty of time to rest. -Probably so they could go over whatever data they got from me.- It also gave him plenty of time to think over his plan. And he’s finally come up with one. Five steps to possible freedom.

Step one, get to Eddie. -The how right now is still up for debate.- Step two, lull them into thinking they’re both compliant. -That requires me to be able to talk to Eddie. But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.- Step three, figure out where they are. -That one is.. A bit more difficult but not entirely impossible.- Step four, figure out how to escape the building. -I know the doors have both code and keycard locks. But again, I’ll figure it out later.- And step five, manage to get both himself and Eddie out of there, alive.

Okay so maybe it wasn’t really a fully laid out plan yet. But he’s worked with far less before. -I mean there wasn’t a ton of planning put into going into the demo-dog tunnels, and I even had a concussion back then!-

Here he’s just.. Planning while he tries not to think about what they did to him. Or remember how his skin felt when it was frozen. Or on fire. Or when they-... Well the list goes on. So really all he had was a plan outlined. But he’d make it work.. Somehow.

Currently he is trying to think it all over. What did he need to change? Where was Eddie? What needed to be moved around? When he heard the boots coming down the hall. -One.. Two? Only two guards today. They’re not in a hurry either. Okay.. So not going to the labs then. Good.- He sat up waiting for them to open the door.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Pounded against his skull. -I should try and ask for ear plugs.- The guards stood in the doorway staring at him. Slowly -probably shouldn’t push it- he got up and walked towards them. One guard took up position in front of him, the other behind him. -They’re not fully armed, and they’re not dragging me either. That’s a good sign.-

They led Steve down the hall, he immediately knows where they’re going. -So definitely no labs today. That’s good but.. Did my room start to smell or.. Or is this a punishment for them?- He wanted to laugh but stopped short as he almost walked into the guard in front of him. They had stopped in front of two metal dark grey doors. The guard in front of him swiped his keycard to get in then moved aside.

He walked in letting the doors close behind him. He was alone again. With a sigh he looked around. Nothing had changed. The room was as the doors were, grey. But it was much larger than his room, or most of the labs he’s been in. The walls were made of thick white concrete blocks on the top, and the bottom was made of equally thick grey blocks. The floor was a cold white and grey checkered tile. -When Brenner said this place was named The Grey Room. He really meant it.-

In the back end of the room held several treadmills, bolted down to the floor. Three punching bags, the stands bolted down to the floor. And several other machines, all bolted down as well. -Like they thought I’d throw them or somethi… Brenner said they trained killers.. Assassins, weapons, here. I suppose they’d need the precautions.-

If he didn’t know any better, Steve would think he was just visiting a gym. A very boring, very grey, gym. But besides the machines there were also a few little items scattered around. There were a handful of grey building blocks, a grey tic tac toe set, a multi grey chess set, and oddly enough, a single velcro dart to match the little grey velcro board hanging on the wall. -They really took their name and ran with it.-

He felt like an animal in a zoo in here. The cameras in the corners blinking on. -Yup. Just a zoo animal for their entertainment.- He wasn’t brought in here nearly as often as he’d like, he’d be less bored if they did. They only brought him here when they needed to clean his room. -More like to make sure I’m not hiding anything again.- Or to keep him out of the way for one reason or another.

Sometimes they asked him to run on the treadmills in the labs to monitor him. But he always kept himself slow, even slower than he would have ran in high school. -They don’t need to know anything about me.- So that’s what he did now. He turned on the treadmill to a slow walk and just.. Walked. And walked. And walked.

At least this gave him time to think, and exercise… Has Eddie ever been here? What were they doing today? Would they let him relax for much longer? Would he get another shower soon?

It gave him time to figure things out too. From his room it took them left, skip two turns, right, then straight until the end of the hall to get to this not gym. From his room it took a left, skip three turns, another left, skip another three turns, then a right, to get to the elevator. The elevator needed both a keycard and a code to operate.

The elevator had twenty three buttons. -Possibly more. Possibly less. They usually stand in a circle around me so I can’t typically see the panel. But it doesn’t matter.. I don’t even know what floor I’m on. Or what floor I need to escape.- There was a stairwell as well but it was locked by a keycard only. What he is almost certain of is that his floor has to be underground as there were no windows, no natural light at all.

Walking gave him plenty of time to think over a new plan outline. First, figure out what floor he’s on. Then figure out where they keep Eddie. -These two are interchangeable.- Next step, figure out what floor they need to escape. -Then you know.. Just swipe a keycard. Oh and figure out a passcode. You know, easy peasy, nothing too difficult.-

He rolled his eyes stepping off the treadmill. Okay, so still not the best plan but it’s a start, right? He needs to start slow, focus on the first two steps.. He knows he isn’t on the lowest floor, because they’ve taken the elevator down several times to the ‘special’ labs. But there’s also multiple elevators with different types of buttons.

How many floors are there? Which ones does he need to get them out of there? He picked up and threw the dart a little harder than necessary. Bullseye. -Nice.- Was Eddie even kept on the same floor as him? To many unknowns. To many things to factor in. Sure he’s come up with plans before but this seemed more.. Final. Somehow far more overwhelming than planning to take on Vecna. -Okay. Okay just keep it simple.-

The very first thing he needed to figure out, the first thing he should focus on. -Mostly because I can’t focus on anything else.- Was Eddie. -I left him there. This is all my fault. I owe him this.- More specifically, where was Eddie? -Good. Yes, that’s a good start. Focus on finding Eddie.- He was trying to hold back from panicking again. It wouldn’t do him any good to have another meltdown. -But this was so difficult. How could.. How does.. Deep breaths. I’ve done this before. I’ve taken on a demogorgon with my bat. I’ve gone into the tunnels, kept the kids safe. We took on Vecna. I can do this. I have to do this.-

Steve slid down the wall taking in a deep breath. He was fine. -No I’m not.- But he was fine before they showed him Eddie. He was behaving, wasn’t panicking, and was good at pushing back the bad thoughts, mostly. But now.. Everything changed. -This is exactly what they wanted to happen. It’s exactly why they let me see him.- Well fuck that! He wasn’t going to let them break him. He’s been here fo-.

The doors pulled open. He was too focused on his thoughts to hear them approach. He stood up quickly, his body ready for a fight. But none came.. The guards waited.

With a deep sigh he walked forward letting them take their places in front and behind him. They were leading him back to his room. -Straight, right, skip, skip, left.- The door to his room was wide open. -Oh that’s.. What’s going on?-

As he stepped forward the guard moved out of the way to let him inside. He stopped before entering. Brenner was inside -great- leaning against his desk.

‘Ah Steven come in. Come in.’ There was something different. Was that.. A cake? On his desk? He carefully stepped inside, his eyes not leaving Brenner’s direction. Steve came to a stop opposite the other man.

A big grin lit up Brenner’s face as he motioned to the cake. ‘I thought you deserved a reward today of all days. I mean it’s not everyday that it’s your birthday afterall.’ He was going to reply but froze.. -It’s my.. My birthday?-

‘Oh..’ He mumbled. It was all he could manage to say. It’s not like they’ve ever celebrated it before. Why now?

‘I also brought you some gifts!’ Brenner motioned to the bed behind Steve, almost excited. He turned to look and.. -Oh..- On top of his bed lay several of his things. Did they take them when they took him or?.. It didn’t matter.

He walked over, turning his back on Brenner, and carefully picked up his yellow sweater. -How did they get this? I left it behind on the boat when I jumped into the lake…. It’s my favorite sweater.- He gently put it down. Next to it was a pair of his grey swim team sweatpants, Harrington labeled down the leg. There was also a Hawkins Swim sweatshirt, two t-shirts, and another pair of sweatpants on the bed too. And socks! -God I never thought I’d be so happy to see socks.-

Brenner gave him a moment to look it all over before clearing his throat, interrupting his thoughts. ‘And what do we say?’

Steve restrained himself from whipping around and punching him. Instead he calmly turned around. ‘Th.. Thank you.’ He tried to keep his voice from shaking. -Clothes.. Clothes are what make me emotional right now… Damn right they are! All I’ve had are these crappy hospital gowns!-

‘I thought you’ve been so good lately. Except for your little outburst which I’ll let slide. You’ve helped our research greatly. So I thought you deserved a little reward.’ Brenner turned to cut the small circular cake.

‘In fact I’m still feeling generous. Enough so that I’ll even let you pick out your own gift. Something reasonable of course. Just let me know what you’d like and I’ll see about getting it.’ Brenner held out a slice of cake with a fork toward Steve.

He took it with shaky hands. He could request something reasonable?.. But what? A notebook to plan in? No, they'd probably read it. An update on his friends? No! No, he doesn’t want them anywhere near those kids. -They definitely wouldn’t give me a map.- He took a bite of the cake as Brenner stared at him. -Oh fuck it’s actually good!-

But what should he ask for? To not be monitored in the shower? For better hair products? He could..

He set the plate and fork down looking Brenner directly in the eyes. ‘Eddie…’ He paused to lick over his suddenly dry lips. -Mm sugar.- ‘I.. I would like to see Eddie again..’ He took a deep breath. -Fuck this was.. This could go so badly. What am I doing?-

‘I would like.. I’d like a few hours to just.. Hang out with him… Please’ He added the last part almost as a whisper. Like he was afraid now that he asked, Eddie would be ripped away from him forever.

But Brenner just got that look on his face again. A single raised eyebrow with the shit eating smirk. ‘You would like to.. Hang out. With Mr Munson?’ He almost sounded.. Was he trying not to laugh? -Yeah I definitely hate him more than Hopper does.-

‘Yes? Please?’ -I don’t think I was this nervous facing my first demogorgon.-

Brenner gave an almost unnoticeable nod in acknowledgement. ‘You are aware that he isn’t very.. Cooperative.’ He didn’t care if Eddie shoved his claws into his throat at this point. -Well I do but.. It doesn’t matter right now. I need to see him. I need to make sure he’s okay.-

‘Yes. I can.. I can help him. Make him see reason. I can get him to calm down. Behave even.. If I can. He.. He’ll listen to me.’ -Get him to understand the plan. To just behave until we have a way out of here.-

This time Brenner actually learned his head back as if he was giving it some thought. ‘Hmm. Well.. I’ll see what I can do. But no promises.’ He turned to cut himself his own slice of cake before moving to the door.

‘I’ll leave the rest for you. Do enjoy it. And you’ll have the rest of the day to yourself.’ He waved at the guards as he left, eating his slice of cake as the door shut behind him. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. -Shit. Ear plugs.-

He took a deep breath letting the smell of the cake invade his nostrils now that he was alone. It smelled so good.. Was he.. Did he really just ask for Eddie as a present? Was he really going to get him too?.. They gave him clothes. And cake! -They’re still assholes but.. Fuck I’ve never wanted to cry over a pair of socks before.- He turned around and quickly stripped off the hospital gown, -shame went out the window a long time ago- and slid on his sweatpants. He wanted to moan. They felt so soft! He pulled on his sweater and brought the collar to his nose, taking a deep breath.

It smelled faintly of the woods, of the lake, of Dustin. He wanted to cry. It smelled faintly like Robin who had worn it weeks prior to the lake. Of the laundry detergent he used at home. Of Eddie. A few tears rolled down his cheek. He quickly wiped them away.

He hopped on one foot in his excitement to pull on a pair of socks. What if.. What if they actually let him see Eddie? -What if they didn’t?- He took another deep breath of the collar as he ran his hand over the sweatshirt on his bed.

‘Happy Birthday to me.’ He whispered as he gathered up the clothes. -Oh.-

He gently, as if they’d disappear, put the clothes back down. Under his sweatshirt was a book. He lifted it with shaking hands.

‘The Fellowship of the Ring.’ He read aloud. Dustin told him about this one many, many times. Mordor. The Shire. Eddie’s speech. He’d know what he meant if he read the book. It was.. Dustin had been trying to get him to read it for ages.

Was it.. Was it just a coincidence? Or some kind of sign? He ran his thumb over the cover, just to make sure it was real. The kid would be ecstatic if he actually read it. -If I ever get to see him again.- He pushed the thought deep into the back of his mind. Carefully, afraid it would break, he put the book onto his pillow.

Gathering the clothes back up he brought them over to his cabinet. His clothes. He actually had clothes now. Socks! And a book too!

A happy birthday indeed.

Chapter 9: What's Going On?

Summary:

Once again Steve has no idea what's going on.
Until he gets a surprise.

Notes:

Steve is dyslexic headcanon. You can pry it and his socks from his cold undead hands.

Reading has always been difficult for him. The words sometimes jumped around. Or his eyes wandered down, accidentally reading the next paragraph instead. Sometimes the letters even changed orders. But mostly he’d forget the entire page of what he just read.

So Steve had to take it slow when reading. Especially when it came to reading fantasy books. The new names and pronunciations made it hard for him to understand anything that was going on. But he was determined. If for nothing else than to just one day, hopefully, tell Dustin he read his favorite book.

He’s been in his room for the last few days, taking every spare moment to try his best at reading The Fellowship of the Ring. They’d taken him to shower, and a few small tests, nothing too painful thankfully. But besides that he’d been reading. Or trying to read. At the moment he was rereading the same sentence for a third time. Until he heard the boots coming down the hall.

Slowly, carefully, Steve closed his book. He was still scared he would break it. Getting up he gently put the book onto his desk and took a step back, waiting. The door unbolted and two guards stood there, waiting for him. -Deep breath in, deep breath out.- Whatever they wanted, he’d behave. Mostly because they still haven’t said anything about Eddie.

Walking forward he allowed them to take up their positions in front of and behind him. They led him down the hall. -Left, skip, skip, right, straight until.. The grey doors? Oh..- He was just here a few days ago. -What’s going on? Was it.. Are they going to take away my book? My clothes?- He walked into the room trying not to panic.

There isn’t much -there isn’t anything- he could do besides wait to see what they took away from him this time. -It’s exactly like them to give me something and let me be happy. Just to come in and immediately take it away from me. They probably just want some sort of reaction. A reason to punish me.- At least he chose to wear his favorite sweater today. -I forgot what warmth felt like.- He hadn’t realized how cold he always was in the hospital gowns. Not until he put on his new -technically old- clothes.

-Might as well walk.- No use in just sitting around thinking about the what ifs. He walked to the treadmill turning it on to a steady pace, nothing to fast. What was he reading about? -Oh it was Billow-. No, Willow? No, no that’s not right it was… Bilbo! Bilbo.. Baggins! Bilbo Baggins’s birthday party. It was his… Eleventy first party? That was… One hundred and.. Eleven?-

He scrunched up his mouth in thought. -Why couldn’t they just say one hundred and eleven?. Hmm.. His party was being held in… Where was it being held?- He took a deep breath. He’s reread the page several times. Hell he’d reread the entire chapter at least three times by now. There was just a lot that he couldn’t understand.

-...Hobbiton! It was held in Hobbiton.- He nodded to himself. Maybe one more reread and he’d remember the chapter. -It wouldn’t do well for Dustin to quiz me and I fail it. I’d never live it down.- It wasn’t this difficult Before. Maybe it was all the stress he was under. Who knows.

---

An hour later Steve stepped off the treadmill. How long would he be in here this time? With a sigh he slid down the wall. And waited. Then waited some more. He didn’t feel like playing tic tac toe alone. Or playing with the singular dart, he’d just have to get up and grab it each time. He stared at the clock above the door. The hours slowly crept by. -Well there goes lunch.-

He was bored out of his mind, and just began contemplating hitting a punching bag. Until he heard the distant footsteps heading in his direction. Standing up Steve stretched letting his bones pop. The door unbolted, just the two guards again. They waited for him. -Okay all this silence. The stillness. It’s starting to drive me crazy.-

He walked forward as the guards took up position again. And they went.. Left?! He’d never gone left from here. Where were they taking him?! -Okay focus!.. Left, skip, right, skip, skip, left, skip, right, straight until the end, right, straight until the end, left at the.. Oh.- They stopped in front of the elevator from the other day. -Oh God not the lab. Not the heat please not the heat! Please.-

There were only two guards so he could see the panel this time. This one didn’t have any numbers, just nine buttons lined up in a row. One of the guards pressed the fifth button from the bottom. -Okay. Okay don’t freak out. I don’t think it’s the same floor. Don’t freak out.-

They went up. -Oh thank God!.. Was that.. One, two floors? Three?- He isn’t sure how far they went but he knows they definitely went up. When the doors opened the guards led him out and into the hall. -Straight, right, straight, left, straight until the end of the hall.- Brenner stood in front of a pale grey door -oh great-, it had a slit in it similar to his own room.

‘Ah Steven, wonderful right on time.’ Brenner motioned for the guards to open the door. -This guys never lifted a finger a day in his life.-

‘I thought about your birthday request and good news! I’ve decided it would be a wonderful idea.’ Steve went a little lightheaded, was this Eddie’s room? As the door opened Brenner walked in motioning for him to follow.

‘However, your room wasn’t exactly suitable for this little experiment. And the communal area isn’t suited for Mr. Munson’s current attitude issue. So as a kindness I’ve gone ahead and had this room prepared for your little… Hang out.’ Brenner gestured around. Steve felt a mix of relief and disappointment that Eddie wasn’t here.

The room was.. Cozy? Almost. It was definitely bigger than his bedroom. But it had a lot of similarities. There was a cabinet in the corner, exactly like the one in his own room. There was still a toilet and sink area in the corner. It had the same thick white concrete walls, and the same plain white tile floor. There was still a security camera in here too. -There’s definitely enough space to spread out in.- But everything else was different.

There was a large rug that covered most of the floor. Against the far wall sat two large… Bean bag chairs? -...What?- In front of the two bean bags, there was a coffee table with snacks on it. -Actual fucking snacks?!- Next to the left bean bag chair there was a small table with a few books, and a drink fridge full of… Blood? Steve was staring at it all. -What’s going on?-

Brenner snickered, having caught his staring. ‘Ah yes. Well I thought if you managed your goal of assisting with Mr. Munson, some comfort could be afforded. To show him what he’d be earning. Of course if it proves to be fruitful you both may even be able to return here.’

He nodded in understanding, too overwhelmed to speak. Each chair held a soft looking pillow and blanket on them. -They look.. They look like cotton.- Not like the scratchy thin blanket on his bed. -If this was all it took to get some comfort I would have said something ages ago… Except I didn’t know Eddie was alive…-

‘Of course I cannot take all the credit.’ Brenner motioned to the drink fridge and oh.. There was a microwave behind it, how could he have missed that? But there were mugs too and.. And a walkman.. A walkman with several different tapes. -...Did I die? Have I died? Or have I been drugged and am imagining things now? Because this looks almost like.. Like.. Well I don’t know? A reading room? A hangout spot? It looks comfier than my own bedroom at home.-

‘My associates have a.. Vested interest. In both of you. And they’ve been quite disappointed in Mr. Munson’s results of late.’ -Associates?! How many people are involved with this place? How many people know about us?- ‘So they decided to supply some treats for you both as well. Call it an.. Incentive.. For a job well done.’

‘I also understand you enjoy your blood warm. So I thought a microwave and some mugs would be a good addition. You might even pretend you’re at a cafe here.’ Steve nodded, running his fingers over the, surprisingly, soft blankets.

‘Thank you.’ He wanted to swallow down his words and choke on them. But if being nice got him all this, got him Eddie. He’d do it. He’d do it and put on a big smile too if he had to.

‘I um.. You said Eddie was coming?’ He turned around and Brenner was.. Smiling? -Oh that’s just creepy.-

‘Yes they’re bringing him up soon. Of course he requires a bit more.. Handling.’ Brenner moved back towards the door.

‘You’ll both be served dinner here. And..’ Brenner’s smile grew. -Dude you’re creeping me out. You look like some sort of pervert. Stop it.- ‘I’ve provided extra blankets and even pajamas in the cabinet for you both. Because as a gesture of good will I’m even letting you both spend the night here. So do get Mr. Munson to cooperate…. Or else my associates may find this little gift too.. Expensive. And if you fail it will be the last evening you spend together. Do keep that in mind.’ -Well that isn’t threatening at all. Asshole.-

Brenner waved at Steve as he left the room. The guards closing and bolting it leaving him alone with his thoughts. -Right, just drop that if Eddie doesn’t behave we’ll be split up permanently and leave. Real mature of you.- He let out a deep sigh looking around.

-Okay this was good right? Start small, find a way to inform Eddie of the plan.- He took another deep breath. -Don’t panic.- He needed something to focus on. Walking to the cabinet he pulled it open. -Oh.. He wasn’t lying.- Inside the cabinet there were two more soft pillows, and three more blankets. But there were also two sets of actual pajamas. -Are those slippers?- Yes, definitely slippers. Not a single hospital gown in sight. -Oh this is..-

He jumped when he heard shouting. And snarling. -Was that.. Growling?- He stepped back toward the far wall as the noise grew closer. Suddenly the door was unbolted and someone was roughly shoved inside. Just as quickly as it was opened, the door was slammed shut. -No. No, not someone that was..-

‘Eddie?’ Said man whipped around at an almost inhuman speed. He quickly held up his hands by his chest.

‘Eddie..’ He whispered his name breathlessly. ‘It’s me. Steve.. You know.’ Here he grimaced. ‘King Steve.. Steve Harrington?’ He wanted to panic. -What if Eddie didn’t remember me? What if he forgot. What is.. What if.. What if he..- Eddie’s shoulder slowly dropped as he stared at Steve. He was still wearing the muzzle, and his arms were still cuffed behind his back. But the growling was slowly fading off.

‘Do you.. Do you know who I am?’ Eddie nodded, slowly. Like it hurt him to do so. ‘Okay good. That’s good. Just.. Let me just.’ Steve slowly approached Eddie as if he was a terrified animal. Gently he reached up trying to feel as if there was a way to open the muzzle. Eddie flinched back when his hand reached out.

‘Just.. Just hold on a second.’ He whispered to Eddie as he walked around him to the door.

‘How do I take these off him?!’ He shouted, unsure if anyone was outside. The slit in the door was roughly pulled open, and just as quickly slammed shut as a key was pushed through. He bent down to pick it up, not bothering to acknowledge anyone. Slowly he turned back to Eddie. Eddie who was here. Eddie who was.. Who was staring at Steve like he’s seeing a ghost.

‘Here.. Just. Let me get those off you.’ He, slowly. Walked around Eddie and carefully unlocked the muzzle first. He felt as if the world has stopped moving, as he pulled it off dropping it next to the door. Next, the cuffs. He had to first unlock the heavy duty lock on the side, dropping that next to the muzzle too. The cuffs came apart like a mold, in two pieces, which he also put onto the floor along with the key. Eddie slowly unfolded his arms from behind him. Flexing his fingers which Steve noticed were kept in firsts.

He hasn’t spared a second to think Eddie might attack him when the man suddenly whipped around growling, maybe he should have. ‘Whoa man! Hey, it's me. It’s Ste-.’ Instead of the attack he expected, Eddie pulled him into a tight hug. He could feel claws digging into his back. -Oh.- Slowly he lifted his arms, hugging back. Eddie was shaking. -Oh.-

‘S.. S.. Steve?’ He whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse. ‘H.. How?’ He ran his hands up and down Eddie’s back. He was still lowly growling at Steve.

‘Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll explain everything, I promise.’ He started to rub circles onto Eddie’s back. ‘Are you hungry? There’s some snacks, they’re going to bring us dinner later.’ Eddie nodded roughly against his shoulder.

‘How about some blood?’ Eddie froze before pulling back quickly, almost too quick, staring at him. Steve could see the hunger in his eyes.

‘Yeah. Okay. How about you sit down and I’ll warm it up for you, okay?’ Eddie was still clutching his shoulders tightly. ‘Hey.. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I just need to warm it up for you. Trust me. It’s not as good cold.’ With a low growl Eddie slowly let his hands drop and went to sit down.

Steve got to work quickly. He could feel Eddie’s eyes following his every move. Grabbing one of the mugs he searched through the blood bags. No human. While it would be best, it wasn’t the end of the world. Instead he grabbed a bag that smelt like cow’s blood. Opening the corner he went to pour it into the mug but stopped. Eddie’s growling got louder.

It was a low, deep in the chest sound. It was made louder by the silence in the room, almost echoing in the quiet. Slowly Steve turned to look at him. Eddie was still, thankfully, sitting on the bean bag chair, his knees drawn up to his chest. He was staring intensely.

‘It’ll just take me a minute okay? Trust me it’s better warm.’ He smiled but Eddie just nodded. Though the growling didn’t stop. As fast as he could, without spilling, he poured the blood into the mug and popped it into the microwave. Just before it beeped he pulled it out and walked over to Eddie.

‘Don’t chug it okay?’ He stared down at the other. ‘I’m serious. You’ll want to but it’ll only make you sick. Just.. Slow sips okay?’ He held out the mug which Eddie took with shaking hands. Licking his dry lips Eddie brought the mug closer. He let out a moan at the first taste, but did as told. He took slow, long sips.

Not to spook him, Steve slowly sat down on the bean bag chair next to Eddie’s. ‘I.. I’m so sorry. If I knew you were alive.. I never would have left you there. I’m so, so sorry.’ He wanted to reach out. Was desperate for it actually. But he was scared. Scared that if he did, he’d wake up and realize it was all a dream. And he was still alone. Eddie let out a strangled noise around the mug.

‘I.. I asked for you.’ Steve sighed looking up at the ceiling. ‘Yeah. I know how it sounds but.. Just.. Let me explain okay?’ He glanced over at Eddie giving him a small smile.

‘I um.. I’ve been thinking about you since we saw each other. I honestly don’t think I’ve stopped… But then, a few days ago, I was brought back to my room to find a cake. I was also asked what I wanted for my birthday…. I didn’t even know it was my birthday.’ He whispered the last part.

Steve leaned back into the bean bag, turning to watch Eddie’s throat bob as he swallowed. -Stop staring.- ‘He said.. I could have asked for anything reasonable. So I…’ The words started spewing from his mouth, he felt like Robin. ‘I asked for you. I asked them to let me see you. To just.. Hang out for a few hours. But um.. They’re letting us have dinner and even spend the night in here. Not that I’m complaining! I mean.. The chairs are pretty comfy and they gave us snacks and blood and.. And blankets! But I’m just.. I’m glad you’re here.’ He went to reach out, he needed to touch, just to make sure Eddie was here. But he stopped himself.

Slowly, Eddie lowered the mug and held it out. His lips were covered in blood, which Steve watched, closely, as Eddie slowly licked it off. -Stop staring.-

‘Hmm?’ He sat up taking the mug. There was still blood in it.

‘Drink.’ Eddie whispered, his voice sounding less hoarse already.

‘It’s. I’m good Eddie, finish it.’ He went to hand it back but was given a look. ‘Really it’s okay. I’ve been given plenty of blood especially lately, it looks like you need it so just..’ Eddie kept staring. With a sigh he carefully brought the mug to his lips. -Right where his were… Why does that matter?- He took a small sip before hanging him back the mug. Admittedly he would have drank more, but Eddie needed it.

‘Finish it.’ Eddie nodded, taking the mug back, slowly finishing the last few sips. When it was empty Steve took the mug back, setting it on the coffee table. He relaxed back onto the bean bag chair, or tried to. They were staring at one another for a few minutes. -He’s here. He’s alive. He’s okay. He’s..- He realized Eddie was still in one of those paper thin hospital gowns.

‘Oh! Here um..’ He got up and walked over to the cabinet, pulling out the pajamas. Under them were pairs of underwear and socks too, so he pulled those out as well. ‘They gave me my sweater and some other clothes for my birthday. I don’t even know how they got the sweater but um.. Here.’ He nervously held out a set of pajamas. The look of shock on Eddie’s face was almost funny.. Almost.

Very carefully Eddie took his clothes from him. He treated him just like Steve did on his birthday. He turned away to give him some privacy while he also changed into his own pair. ‘They even gave us socks. No more cold floor all the time. I mean.. I didn’t even know I’d feel so emotional about fucking.. Socks!’

The silence slowly stretched over them, the only noise coming from the shuffle of clothes being moved around. -He’s here. He’s alive. He’s gonna be okay. We’re going to be okay.- He let his thoughts wash over him before he jumped, turning around. Eddie pulled his hand back from his shoulder.

‘S-Sorry. Tried. Calling you.’ He mumbled pulling his hair in front of his mouth. -He did that Before too. It’s kind of adorable… What?-

‘Sorry I uh.. I was thinking.’ He smiled reassuringly before he moved back to sit on the bean bag chair, Eddie following.’ -We’re wearing matching pajamas.- ‘There’s extra blankets and pillows in the cabinet if you want to get them, or we can grab them before going to bed. Whatever you’d like really. We can.. We can push the bean bags together to sleep on them if you want to, or just curl up on our own. Or um.. We can make a little pallet on the rug with the blankets.’

There was a smile slowly growing on Eddie’s face the longer Steve spoke. Walking over, he pushed his bean bag up against Steve’s. ‘D-Doesn’t matter. Better than.. The floor.’ He whispered, sitting back down, pulling his blanket into his lap.

‘The… The floor?’ He turned to face Eddie. -They had him on the floor? The fucking floor?! They had him chained up like an animal and sleeping on the fucking floor?!- Eddie looked uncomfortable at the question as he pulled his legs back to his chest.

‘Hey.’ He reached over, slowly. Giving Eddie enough time to pull back. He gently let his hand rest on his shoulder. Eddie looked up. Their eyes met and whatever he was about to say died on his tongue. It was the ice bath feeling except.. It wasn’t. It was almost warm. It was cautious. -Was this.. Is this Eddie? It is.. Us?-

‘Eddie.’ He whispered, his voice cracking. His hand shook where it rested. He wanted to take Eddie’s hand but wasn’t sure it was welcome. He just needed to feel him. To know he was there. But Eddie, as if he knew the issue Steve was having. Took matters into his own hands, literally.

Eddie reached up, taking Steve’s hands in between both of his. When they touched the feeling grew warmer. It spread over him. It calmed him. -I need to tell him about my plan.- The shaking in his hands stopped when Eddie gave him a light squeeze, like he knew exactly what he needed to say. Steve leaned forward pulling Eddie into a tight hug. It didn’t matter right now. Nothing else matters right now. Everything besides this could wait.

Eddie was here.

Chapter 10: Comfortable and Cozy

Summary:

Steve and Eddie get past the awkward phase and have a much needed talk.

Notes:

I realized I've been using ' instead of "for conversations, which got confusing this chapter for Steve's slurred speech. So this chapter and from now on it'll be"

They could almost forget they were locked in a lab.

Almost.

It was awkward and uncomfortable between them for a few minutes before Eddie let out a huff and asked for another mug of blood. He had two more and Steve had even warmed up one for himself as well. They sat in silence drinking. Until Eddie let out an -adorably- loud huff and scooted closer to Steve.

Right now they were sitting side by side, their shoulders brushing against one another’s, having pushed the bean bag chairs as close together as possible. Eddie had wrapped his blanket around himself and was eating a bag of chips he got off of the coffee table.

If Steve thought he couldn’t get the other man out of his head before, it was a hundred times worse now. All he could think was. -Eddie’s here. Eddie’s alive. Eddie’s next to me. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.- And he kept staring. Why did he keep staring? But Steve just couldn't take his eyes off him. Like if he looked away too long Eddie would disappear. -Probably due to being alone for two years.. Yeah. But.. But if I get him to listen we can do this again.-

“Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie whispered jokingly, a smile on his face.

“Oh-ho is that all their worth?” He laughed, sneaking a chip from the bag. -He looks so comfortable wrapped in that blanket. And-. No no, now’s not the time. Focus.-

“Well I’d offer more but sadly I don’t even have a penny.” Eddie flicked a chip at his head.

“Oh well if you can’t afford me.” He caught the chip. “But uh.. It’s nothing. Just.. You look.. Comfortable. And I was thinking about.. I don’t know, it’s stupid.” He shrugged, eating the chip he caught.

“Steve.. I haven’t spoken to anyone in… A long time. Right now you could tell me the sky turned black and I’d think it was the best, most metal thing, I’ve ever heard. So come on.. Tell me.” Eddie flung another chip, his grin widening when Steve caught it.

He flung the chip back watching as it got caught in Eddie’s hair. “It’s just uh…” He cleared his throat nervously. -He’s staring at me.- “I um.. Have you. Have you ever read The Fellowship of the Ring?” -Has he ever.. Of course he has you idiot! Fuck why is.. Why can’t I.. Why is this so hard? We’ve spoken before. We were alone before. What’s so different?-

Eddie laughed. A full bodied laugh that sent him sliding deeper into the bean bag chair. “Have I read-.. Have I read the-.” He snorted, pulling a piece of hair in front of his mouth. -He’s staring. Why does he keep staring at me?- “Yeah I.. Probably about a hundred times. Why?”

-Because I’m a nervous idiot that’s why. This shouldn’t be any different than before. Except.. Except of course it is because of that stupid conversation with-.- “Steve?” -Shit.- Eddie looked nervous as he poked his shoulder.

“Sorry I uh.. Sometimes.. Sometimes I think too much.” He attempted to shrug it off. -Real cool Steve. Real cool.- “Anyway they uh.. They gave me a copy for my birthday. I haven’t really um. I haven’t gotten far into it, it’s kind of.. Confusing to me.” He subtly flared his nostrils at the look Eddie gave him.

“They just… Gave you a copy?” -Is he.. He smells.. Is that mad? Is he mad?.. At me? At them?-

“Well it was with the clothes and they said it was for good behavior and… Yeah?’ He roughly ran his hand through his hair, his claws coming out to scrape against his scalp. -Deep breath Steve. In. Out.- “I mean I didn’t ask for it or anything and I’m not really sure where it came from or.. Or even how they got my sweater-” “Steve” “but I’ve been trying to read it because.. Well it’s Dustin’s favorite and he’s wanted me to read it-” “Steve” for so long but it’s confusing and-.” He was rambling, he knew he was rambling but the words just wouldn’t stop. -Don’t be mad. Don’t be mad. Don’t be mad.-

“Steve!” Eddie called for him several times during his word vomit, he felt like Robin. When he didn’t answer Eddie had grabbed his shoulders, tightly. “Hey.. Hey, it’s okay. Breath man.”

He sucked in a deep breath, reaching up he shakily patted Eddie’s hand. “S-Sorry. I just..” He lowered his voice so that the camera wouldn’t pick it up. Eddie wouldn’t have heard it if he didn’t have inhuman senses. “You smelled.. Mad. I didn’t.. I didn’t mean to make you mad.. At me.” Eddie’s grip tightened. -Shit he shouldn’t have to.. I was supposed to comfort him. Not. Not the other way around.-

“I’m not. Well I.. Not with you. I think.. I think we need to have a chat first Stevie.” Steve let out a quiet whine at the name. “Come on, get comfortable we.. Let’s chat, yeah?” He nodded, slowly moving away from Eddie’s grip.

They both got comfortable. Eddie turning fully toward Steve, his arms hanging over the back of his bean bag. Steve attempted to mirror his position, their feet bumping against each other. Eddie lowered his volume, a feat Steve didn’t know was possible, so the camera couldn’t pick up their conversation.

“Stevie.” It took all his willpower to stuff down the whine clawing up his throat. “I need to know what happened after.. After Vecna. Did you guys kill him? How did.. How did you get here? How are you.. Like me?” -A vampire. How are we vampires?-

He took another deep breath. -He’s gonna know.. He’s gonna find out that I.. Shit.- “I.. Eddie I.. I’ll tell you what I know.” -There’s no use in avoiding it. He’ll know that I can’t.. That my memory isn’t..-

So Steve told him. How they took down Vecna, but they knew he was going to come back. How Max was hurt. How Dustin was hurt. How Dustin begged him to bring Eddie back. About what happened after the Upside Down.

“And then Hopper. Chief Hopper came back with them. Yeah! That’s the exact look I had too! I saw him and he was-.. Apparently he was a prisoner for the Russians which we bonded over and-.” Eddie had a lot of questions about that but Steve said he’d tell him later. He told Eddie about his infection. Steve knew it was risky but he told him the truth, about what Dr. Owens said. About how he changed. At some point Eddie had moved closer, nearly leaning against Steve. He told him about being restrained. About how scared he was for the kids. He told him the cover story.

“You’re a hero Eddie. The police offered a sincere, public, apology. It aired on the news like.. Three separate times, at least.” He told him about work. About his blood deliveries. About how the kids were handling everything that came after. He told Eddie all that he could remember. But there were some large gaps in his memory, he knew that. He knew Eddie knew it too. The look on his face was enough to know but, he was grateful it wasn’t mentioned.

“Do you um.. Do you know what happened to Wayne?” By this point Eddie was fully pressed against him. At some point he had leaned back over both the bean bags. -Cuddling. We’re cuddling.- Eddie’s head laying over his stomach, the blanket thrown over them. -Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t.-

“Oh uh.. Yeah actually Dustin.. Dustin and I saw him a couple times.” He realized at some point he had started playing with Eddie’s hair. -When did I…. It’s soft.- “The government had him sign an NDA and well.. Nancy, and don’t ask me how because I have no idea. Nancy managed to convince them that he deserved the truth and either they have him sign an NDA and we tell him. Or they don’t and we tell him.”

Eddie looked up at him. -His eyes are.. Focus Steve!- “Yeah Wheeler is.. Kind of scary. So he.. He knows about. About everything?”

He let his claws gently scratch at Eddie’s scalp. “Yeah. We all kind of spoke with him about it. We tried not to overwhelm him but well.. We’re a large group. Oh! The uh.. The government also got him a new place to live since the gates and earthquake kind of tore everything to pieces.” He subtly flared his nostrils again. Eddie smelt.. Upset?

“And.. And how did he take it?” -Oh.. He’s. It’s for Wayne.-

“Hey.” He met Eddie’s eye and gave his best reassuring smile. -Maybe it wasn’t so convincing because he looks like I just told him his dog died.- “He understood why you didn’t tell him. He was upset, a bit, but he understood. Dustin and well.. Everyone. Everyone made sure that he knew, you died a hero. Hopper too. He might not have been there but he knows the Upside Down as well as any of us. He knows what you did.”

“But Waynes-.” Eddie started, but Steve interrupted.

“He isn’t alone. Hopper made sure he knows he’d always be welcome to ask us any questions or come by to talk, about anything. And.. Dustin kept having me drive him to visit Wayne at his new place. It’s.. It’s pretty nice actually. It’s a two story house and the government made sure it was fully furnished too.” He let his hand trail down to Eddie’s back, rubbing small circles.

“It’s fully paid off and he owns it too so no rent or mortgage. They also gave him a huge payout, hush money he called it.” Eddie snorted into Steve’s stomach. “He.. He made you a bedroom there. Dustin and I helped him paint the house and.. Dustin helped set up your posters.”

“He.. Made me a room?.. You helped him?” His voice sounding as small as he felt, looking up at Steve. -He looks.. Nope stop. Not a good time.-

“Yeah dude. He didn’t care if you were gone. Said you’d always have a home with him. And yeah. Dustin kept wanting to check in on him, make sure he wasn’t alone and I.. It wasn’t hard for me. I didn’t exactly want to be alone either. I um.. I went over a few times…. Okay a lot of times, without Dustin. Not that the kid knows, but um.. Your uncle’s good company. We had a few beers together. Talked about you. About me too. About your music. He’s really proud of you. I um.. I cooked for him a couple dozen times. He cooked a few for me too I..” He slowly started to trace his pattern onto Eddie’s back.

“I had to sign another NDA not to tell anyone about what I am.. I told Wayne not.. Not directly but I gave him enough hints. I wanted to fully tell him, was going to say fuck the NDA but then he just. He started keeping some blood in the fridge. It really helped when I woke up thirsty because I forgot to eat.. He’d always get mad and uh. He’s the reason I started to take care-.”

“You woke up thirsty?” Eddie interrupted. “Did you.. Were you having sleepovers with my uncle?” Eddie’s shoulders were shaking as he held back from laughing. “Wait he.. He was okay with.. With..?” He nodded at Eddie.

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to the first time but I had helped him move some furniture around and paint the outside of the house. I guess I was kind of tired, I hadn’t been sleeping so well so I just.. Fell asleep on the couch. Then it kept kind of happening because I.. I realized I slept better around someone. When the kids.. When it was just me alone for the night I kind of just.. Wound up going to Wayne’s. Sorry…” His throat was growing tight as he held back tears. “But yeah he was okay with it. Sat me down and told me not to question it but he’d keep a stock of blood in the fridge for me. And that I was always welcome in his house and to.. To let him know if anyone gave me any trouble he.. Shit Eddie he.. He carried me up to your room when I passed out on the couch. And it just.. Your uncle is a good man.”

He failed. He knew he had started crying. He hadn’t in so long that it just came pouring out, and he couldn’t stop it. “Wayne had been.. He was so nice. He was..” He sniffled trying to stop the tears. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s stomach. It was awkward but not uncomfortable. “My parents didn’t come back after and.. And Wayne was so nice. He was so nice and he. He was acting like a dad should not like. Not like how mine does. I.. Fuck I know he isn’t alone now. Dustin. Dustin wouldn’t let him be but. But I miss him too. I haven’t.. I haven’t thought about it. Tried not to but, fuck man! I miss him.”

The tears weren’t stopping. His hands were starting to shake. He let himself admit the truth, the one’s he’s been trying to hide from. “I miss him. I miss the kids. I miss Robin. I miss Dustin.” Eddie took one of his hands and began rubbing circles onto the back of it with his thumb.

“Yeah.. Me too.” Eddie whispered. “I miss Wayne. I wasn’t.. He didn’t deserve the shit I put him through. And Dustin.. Fuck I’d take him with his shitty atittude any day. And little red.. I’m sure she’s fine. She’s a fighter. I’m sure they’re all fine. And I’m.. I’m really glad Wayne had you… Thank you.”

He didn’t acknowledge his thanks, he couldn’t. If he did, the tears would never stop. Instead he just continued to trace the pattern across Eddie’s back. They laid there in a comfortable silence. His tears slowly stopping after a while.

---

He was close to falling asleep, the weight of Eddie and the circles being drawn on his hand letting his body finally relax. Until Eddie, still quiet enough that the camera wouldn’t hear, spoke up. “Hey Stevie.. What uh.. What are you drawing on my back?”

“Hmm?” He cracked open his eyes, slowly blinking a few times. “Mm, just a pattern. Been drawing it for a while now. Before I got here even. Don’ know wha’ it is.” He mumbled out the last part, his mouth feeling too heavy for words.

“Stevie.” He let out a quiet laugh. “Stevie that’s… You’ve seen the Hellfire shirts right?” Steve let out a hum in acknowledgement. Listening but too tired for words. “That’s what you’re drawing. What the good ole people of Hawkins call our little Satan symbol.”

Steve paused before slowly resuming his drawing. It took him a minute to get the words out. “Oh.. Huh. Okay. Thas’- Thas’- nice.” -It really is always Eddie isn’t it?- He smiled, letting his eyes close again. “It’s nice. Thought it was a tree.”

At this Eddie did let out a laugh. Shaking the both of them. But he didn’t mind. It was nice even, to hear Eddie laugh. “A tree?”

He shrugged. “Don’ know. A dragon? Couldn’ figure it out. Mm Dustin made me a character sheet. Was even gonna play if it made him happy.”

Eddie went to sit up but Steve let out a whine in protect. -No. Don’ go.- At the noise Eddie laid back down, patting Steve’s hip. “Stevie. Steve. You were gonna play dungeons and dragons? King Steve was actually going to debase himself with the game us mere mortals play? All for the kid whose shit eating grin would have-..”

“Don’t like it.” Steve mumbled interrupting Eddie. “Don’ like being called that. Like Stevie… Liked big boy too.” He admitted, more asleep than awake at this point. “Wan’ed ta make my kid happy. He was cryin’ into his milkshake. ‘Cause.. ‘Cause you died. But not dead. You’re here. Not dead.”

Eddie looked up at him, but he didn’t notice. His head had leaned back and his eyes hadn’t reopened. “Oh.” He whispered looking down at Steve’s hand. He started to play with Steve’s fingers. “That’s.. Yeah Stevie. I’m here. Mm not dead.”

"That's good. Missed you. Was sad when you died. You din’ deserve it.” He mumbled his hand slowly sliding off Eddie’s back, too heavy to hold up.

“Hey Stevie?” A hum in response. “You never told me how you got here.”

He let out an incomprehensible noise, it could have been a word, Eddie doesn’t know. “Don’ really ‘member. Don’ ‘member lots of things. Mm.” He slowly opened his eyes, his hand coming back up to rest on Eddie’s hip. -This is nice.- “Was at my house. Woulda’ went to Wayne but… Mm Robin.. I think? Was ‘spose to come over. Was havin’ a movie night.” He wiggled to sit up slightly, so he wouldn’t fall back asleep, but he wouldn’t dislodge Eddie either. “Got a call. It.. Robin had something come up she um.. A date? Maybe? Woulda’ went to Wayne he said ta come over anytime but.. It was late.”

He took a deep breath in and out watching as it moved Eddie up and down. “I didn’ wan ta bother ‘im too much. I had.. He gave me a key but..” He let out a large yawn, trying to wake himself up. “Didn’t wanna be a bother. Plus Dustin was ‘spose to come over the next morning.” He started to trace the pattern over Eddie’s hip.

“I don’t think he knew how much I went to Waynes.. Or if he knew at all. I don’t think he did. But.. Yeah Robin, I think, canceled at the last minute. I told her it was fine but.. I really hated being alone. And then.. I remember it was the middle of the night. I had finally fallen asleep and was annoyed that something woke me up. I don’t remember what it was but I heard.. Something? I don’t know. I think I fell back asleep but.. The next thing I remember was something hitting me. Then I vaguely remember a.. Van? Then I was here. How um.. How did they find you? How did you get out?”

Eddie seemed to curl in on himself at the question. His hand subtly tightening around Steve’s fingers. “I.. I’m not happy about what I had to do to get out of there. I don’t.. I can’t..” He was beginning to shake when Steve’s hand found his hair.

“Hey it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me about it, okay? It doesn’t matter. You’re alive. You’re here. It’s okay.” Eddie seemed to calm down the more he spoke.

“I want to, it’s just.. Not now okay?” Steve nodded, now fully awake. “I.. When I got out I wasn’t sure where to go. So I.. I was gonna go to your house.” He got quieter at his admission. “I didn’t want to involve Wayne and.. And I knew you guys would help me. But I couldn’t go to one of the kids. So I.. I was trying to find you. They.. They found me in the woods. I was.. I was almost at your house too.” He took a deep breath. “I think it was about the same time they got you.. Actually I think it was a few weeks earlier. I’m not really sure on the timing.”

Steve wanted to scream. Wanted to at least break Brenner’s nose. Eddie had been trying to get to him? To his house? -Shit! You piece of fucking.. You.. Fuck all of you!- He took another deep breath in through his nose and slowly let it out. “That’s… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry Eddie.” His grip tightening around his hip. “There’s something that I need to-.” He sat up looking toward the door.

-One.. Two.. Two pairs of boots.- He looked down at Eddie who was staring up at him. -He looks terrified. What do I.. What do we do?... Two. There’s only two. And whoever is outside the door. That means.. They’re not here for Eddie. They could be.. Did Brenner lie? Are they..- By the time he brought himself out of his thoughts the boots had stopped in front of the door. -Shit.-

He tensed up preparing for a fight when.. -Oh.- The slit in the door opened and two trays slid in. “Dinner time boys.” One of the guards announces sounding… Amused? With a groan of annoyance Steve gently removed himself from Eddie’s grip and walked over to the door.

“Thanks.” He mumbled taking both trays. -Oh.. Oh shit. Actual..- His head shot up when he heard Eddie growling. He was staring at the trays in Steve’s hands. “Hey.” He walked over setting the trays onto the coffee table. “It’s okay. This is.. It’s fine I promise.” He allowed himself a subtle breath in. -Definitely not tampered with.-

Sitting back down next to Eddie he moved his arm up, letting Eddie press back against his side. -Okay. Yeah. This is fine. This is good. Okay. Great.- “It’s fine I promise. Look they gave us.. We have a roll, some pasta salad, a mix of vegetables, some.. I think that’s meatloaf, and even a muffin. Eds an actual muffin. And look, more blood.”

He reached over, careful not to dislodge Eddie and pulled the trays into their laps. His voice lowering again so the camera wouldn’t hear. “It’s not tampered with, I promise. Blood smells like it’s human too. Trust me. Much better than the cow’s blood from before.” Eddie just stared at the tray, unmoving.

“Eds?” No answer. “Eddie?” He took the warm blood bag from Eddie’s tray and gently put it into his hands. Slowly, Eddie turned to look at him.

“Do you.. Do they always feed you like this?" Even Steve’s enhanced hearing had trouble picking that up.

“No, not really. Usually it’s pretty nasty with an occasional bag of blood but.. Recently I’ve been getting better meals. It started after I met Brenner. But none of them have been messed with so it’s safe to eat. I promise.” He smiled before picking up his own blood bag, tearing the corner, and drank. -Shit. So much better than cow.-

It was like Eddie was pulled from a trance when he saw Steve open the blood bag that he immediately got to work on his own. He tore it open less gracefully, almost spilling it, and drank. He calmed down about halfway through the bag, a groan leaving his lips.

“Like I said.” Steve smiled, bumping his shoulder against Eddie’s. “Much better than cow. But don’t let them know that.” Eddie nodded. The rest of their meal was eaten in silence. The only noises coming from the occasional cough, from Eddie who ate so fast he almost choked, or the clink of a fork against a tray.

When they were finished Eddie curled back up onto his bean bag chair, the blanket wrapped around himself. Steve picked up both of their, practically licked clean trays, and took them to the door. He knocked twice. When the slit opened he pushed them through before going back to his seat. -He’s here. He’s alive. We ate. We won’t be interrupted again… Hopefully. He’s alive.-

“Do you want..” Steve broke the silence, nervously. “Do you want to.. Set up a place to sleep?” He ran his hand through his hair again. “Or we could.. They have a few books and, and a walkman we could.. Listen to something?” -Is this why Brenner laughed at me? Because this is.. It’s almost like a.. No. No It’s just two friends.. Hanging.. Out. Yup. Just that. No other way to take it.-

Eddie shook his head watching Steve like he’d disappear. “Do you think we could just.. Lay like we were? I liked it. I liked.. Your hand in my hair. Or on my back. It was nice and I..” -He’s.. Embarrassed? Definitely yeah… Oh!- “They’ve just been grabbing me and so.. So this is nice.”

Steve nodded, settling back into his bean bag chair. A smile on his lips as he opened his arms. “Yeah man. I know what you mean it’s.. It’s nice.” Eddie moved quickly as if he thought Steve would change his mind. Instead of laying across Steve’s stomach he wiggled up and put his head against Steve’s chest.

“Is this.. Okay?” Steve nodded letting his arms rest over Eddie. One of his hands finding his hair, working the knots out of it, gently. The other rested over his hip, beginning to trace his Eddie's pattern again.

“Yeah. Yeah this is.. Nice.” He whispered, his smile widening when Eddie let out a noise that could only be described as him being content. Like the best thing to ever happen to him was Steve’s hand in his hair. -If he wasn’t a vampire I’d say he’s more like a cat. Is that.. Is he.. Purring? Oh definitely a cat!-

“Sorry.” Eddie mumbled out, his fingers dancing over Steve’s stomach. -He’s.. Acting so shy its..-

“Hmm? What for?” He wiggled his fingers trying to dislodge a particularly stubborn knot without tugging. -If I smile any harder I think my face might get stuck like this.-

“The.. The noise. Can’t control it sometimes.” -Oh that’s..- “And for… Being needy. Probably not comfortable for you.” He admitted, pressing his face closer to Steve’s chest.

“Eds.. Hey no stop that.” He gave a gentle tug on the other’s hair. “It doesn’t bother me. I.. We’ve both been alone for a long time. You need this. I need it too. I.. It doesn’t bother me. And actually if we’re being honest you’re pretty comfortable I think I… I think being alone was hurting me more than I let on.” He swallowed down whatever emotion was trying to claw its way out of him this time. Eddie needed to know. Needed to hear that he needed this just as much.

“Oh….” Silence stretched over them until Eddie started again. “And I’m sorry for before.”

“Before?” -Does he mean the issue with the food? Or Before, before. Like dying on us? Or somethi-.-

“The..” Eddie let out a long huff, his fingers curling around Steve’s side as he ran them in different patterns. “I don’t know if you noticed.. But when I.. But when…. I can do something.” He admitted his voice getting low enough he had to strain his ears to hear. -The camera definitely can’t hear us. Oh.. Whatever it is he’s afraid of them knowing.-

“I can.. I felt when they brought you here. Or no.. I felt when you woke up here. I could feel you before they brought you here too. It’s how… It’s how I was able to come find you before they found me. I.. I don’t know what it is.” Eddie admitted, refusing to turn over and look at Steve. -He’s scared. I can smell it it’s.. I hate it. The smell it’s..-

“Eddie.. Eds… I didn’t know it was you. At first but.. I know. I felt it. I think.. I think maybe it was your panic I was feeling. Because I felt it when we locked eyes in the hall. But every other time I thought it was random or… I admit I thought it might have been the Upside Down trying to get into my head. But then after we saw each other I just.. I just knew. That it was you.” Eddie let out a noise -like someone had stabbed him-.

“I felt it before too, after I changed. That’s when I really thought it was the Upside Down because it was before I came here. But.. I didn’t want to tell anyone because I was scared of going back to the lab. I should have. Shit Eddie I’m sorry I should have told someone. It must have been the day they found you.” -Why didn’t I tell anyone?! Why didn't I tell Hopper or Eleven? They would have understood!-

“Steve.” Eddie whispered. Turning slightly so that he was still facing away, but part of his face was now visible. “Stevie. It’s okay.” This time Steve let out his own noise of distress. “It really is. Because if you would have.. They probably would have found you sooner.” Eddie reached over, letting his fingers slot into the empty spaces between Steve’s on his hip. -He’s holding my hand. He’s here. He’s alive. And he’s holding my hand.- “But what I was trying to apologize for.. Was because I realized you could feel it. In the hallway I… Stevie I knew. It was like.. Shit it was like we..”

“Connected.” Steve added in when Eddie didn’t continue. “When. When they brought you in here before I felt it again. Like you knew what I wanted. When I wanted to touch you but I wasn’t sure you’d want that.. You just.. You did it.”

Eddie let out a quiet hum. They kept quiet. To the camera it probably looked like they were just sitting in silence. -Or it looks like.. No wonder Brenner laughed. It probably looks like.. Like we’re lovers… Or something.-

“Yeah… We. We connected. I could.. I did it because I knew you wanted to. Not like.. Not like I read your mind. At least I don’t think I did? I just.. I just knew. It felt like.. A push. But I. I was apologizing because I realized it in the hall. I realized you could feel me and I.. I closed it off. As much as I could. I don’t know if it slipped but I did my best to hold it back.”

He froze. Eddie wanted to keep him out. -But.. But we’re connected. How are we?..- “Please don’t.” He added in, quieter than he meant to. “Please don’t keep me out. I.. I need to know you’re there. I.. Look whatever it is. Whatever we can do now. We can figure it out later. We can figure everything out later. Just don’t… Please don’t keep me out Eddie. I can’t.. I can’t be alone again.” He wanted to cry. He could feel the familiar tightening in his throat. But he held back, as best as he was able. -Eddie’s here. He’s alive. He’s here with me. Eddie’s here.-

“Stevie.. Hey.” Eddie turned around to face Steve, his head still on his chest. But when their eyes met the warm feeling returned, washing over Steve. He sucked a deep breath in through his teeth. “I won’t. I won’t do it again okay? I’m sorry I didn’t realize that you.. I’m sorry… Hey.” He reached up, wiping a stray tear from Steve’s cheek. -Oh.- “I won’t do it again. I just didn’t want to hurt you. I don’t exactly know what it feels like on the other end.”

He let a wobbly smile come back. It was all he could give right now. It was as unstable as he felt. “Like.. It used to feel like ice. Like.. Like after a game sometimes I would get into this ice bath and it. It felt like that. I think.. I think that was you panicking. Because in the hall when you looked at me. And now too. It feels.. Warm.”

“Oh.” Eddie’s eyes widened before a soft puff of breath left his nose. “Stevie I think.. I think you’re feeling my emotions. And I.. I think before I felt yours too. Or at least your want. Because I knew you wanted to take my hand. And.. And I knew you wanted to sit together before. But besides that I haven’t gotten anything else from you.”

“Oh.” It was all he could say. -Because what else can I say? ‘Oh sorry you’re feeling my emotions Eddie. Sorry you can probably feel how much I want to kis-’ No. Nope. Stop it Steve. He doesn’t need that right now. We can.. After. After we escape. We can talk about it.-

“Steve?” Eddie laughed when he jerked back from the rough poke to his cheek. “Lost in that head of yours again?”

“Yeah.. Yeah sorry. I uh..” The lights suddenly turned off, the camera making a loud whirring noise as the night vision turned on. But neither of them needed the light. They could see just fine in the dark. “Eddie, I need to tell you something. I need to do it now before I forget again and mess this whole thing up. And I need you to listen okay? Just.. Just hear me out first.”

Eddie nodded against his chest. “Yeah man. You’re kind of freaking me out but go for it. I’ll listen.”

Steve nodded too. “Okay.” He lowered his volume so they’d both have to strain to hear it. But he couldn’t risk the camera getting any of it. “Eddie I have.. Somewhat. I have somewhat of a plan but it’s going to take the both of us okay?” Eddie’s eyes widened as he nodded quickly.

“Okay good. Listen.. Brenner said.” A growl started to come up from Eddie’s chest, but a look from Steve had him stomping it back down. “Brenner said we would never see each other again if I didn’t get you to behave.” Eddie sucked in a deep breath, so Steve hurried to continue. “But it’s okay because that’s part of the plan too. We need to make them think we’ve given up. That we’ll go along with what they want.”

Steve let his hand drift back to Eddie’s waist. His thumb slowly swiping back and forth. “Because I noticed that when I did that they got lazy. They started to treat me better but they got so into themselves, so sure that I wouldn’t fight back that they hardly put any guards around me now. Don’t get me wrong, there's still tests and experiments. There’s still pain but.. In the end we’ll get out of here. We just have to hold on a little longer. Can you.. Will you.. Will you do that?”

Eddie stared at him for a few moments, saying nothing. It was starting to make him nervous, his skin felt twitchy until, “Yeah Stevie. I can… I’ll do my best. I wont like it but if. If you have a plan then yeah. I’ll follow it.”

Steve smiled, giving Eddie’s hip a quick squeeze. “Okay so.. I already said it but, Brenner told me if you don’t behave after this meeting it’ll be the last time we ever see each other so just.. If you could be a little easier for them.. He said you might even be allowed back here or, with enough cooperation.. We might be able to go to the not gym together.”

“The not gym?” Eddie asked, sounding more amused than upset.

“Oh um.. It’s this grey room with some work out equipment and a few games. But it’s not really a gym so.. Not gym.” He nodded to himself before continuing. “And if we can see each other again then I can keep you updated with the plan which.. Well I’ve managed to figure out a few routes around the building from my room. Even some to the elevators but.. I haven’t managed to figure out which floor we need to get out or even how to get one of their keycards. Or a passcode. I don’t actually know if we’re kept on the same floor either but.. I figured together we can probably come up with something.. Right?” He put on a weak smile, it looked more confident than he felt.

“Yeah Stevie.” Eddie looked at him like he hung the moon. “Yeah that’s.. Shit you know how to get to the elevators?” At Steve’s nod he continued. “Okay so that’s good. That’s real good. Yeah.. Yeah we can do this. I’ll put on a bullshit behavior routine like you do. I’ll do whatever you need me to. Lets just.. Let’s get out of here.”

Steve’s smile got bigger. -He agreed. He actually.. That was easier than I thought!- So Steve launched into a retelling of every plan outline he’s come up with, even the embarrassing ones that just focused on finding Eddie. Steve told him every detail he could remember. The directions from his room to the shower, to the not gym, to the elevators. He told him about seeing the stairs, how he knew they were underground. He told Eddie about the different labs he’s been to.

Eddie told him about the labs he’s been to. About the different rooms they’ve had him in. About the different experiments they’ve run on him. He described where he’s kept and they managed to figure out they’re definitely kept on the same floor. He told Eddie how he wouldn’t let them know the truth of what they could do. Eddie promised he hadn’t said a word to them, and he’d keep himself in check.

They went back and forth for hours, two years worth of information to share in the span of one night. But this was good. Great even. They had a plan now. An actual plan. They don’t know how long it will take. They don’t know when they’ll finally escape. But they have a plan. They’ll manage to work it out. They’ll take whatever is thrown at them. Together. They might not see each other often. But it didn’t matter. They knew.

Whatever happens from now on. In the end they’ll get out of there.

Together.

Chapter 11: Mr. Steve Harrington of Bag End

Summary:

Steve does something dangerous.
Steve realizes he's definitely Bilbo now.
Steve tries not to think about back home. (He fails)

They had talked too quietly for the camera to pick up nearly the entire night. Only taking a short nap when they got too comfortable to continue. Thankfully, they needed far less sleep than humans did.

After their brief nap they went back to planning. To talking. To just laying with each other. Eddie drawing circles and spirals with his fingers across Steve’s stomach. Steve drawing the same pattern over and over across different areas of Eddie’s back. It was comfortable, and they needed this. Especially since they knew sometime today the guards would come back and pull them apart. Drag them back to their days filled with experiments, tests, and loneliness. They needed the kind touches.

---

They had just finished their breakfast. -Actual eggs! We had actual eggs not powdered!- And have decided to redress for the day. -Not that they provided us with new clothes.- Steve turned to pick up his clothes when he noticed Eddie just standing there. He was holding the hospital gown, nearly ripping it with how tightly he held it.

“Here.” Steve held out his hand. Eddie looked confused. “Give it.” He made grabby hands until Eddie, confused, gave him the gown.

“What am I supposed to-?” Steve held out his sweater and sweatpants.

“I have others in my room. Just.. Behave for them so they don’t take it away. It’s my favorite after all.” He smiled, waiting for Eddie to take his clothes. He didn’t want to admit it but the thought of Eddie wearing his clothes was doing something to him.

“I.. Steve… Thank you.” Eddie gently took the clothes, quickly turning away to get changed.

With a shaky breath Steve turned around and took off his pajamas, folding them, before slipping on the hospital gown. -I forgot how thin these were. But it.. It’s worth it. He deserves something warm too.- He flexed his fingers, willing his claws back. He really hated the hospital gowns.

When Eddie cleared his throat Steve turned around, his breath catching at the sight. The sweater was too large on his thin frame, hanging off one of his shoulders. ‘Harrington’ ran down the thigh of his sweatpants. -He..- His nostrils flared subtly. -Shit. He smells like me.- A noise tried to claw its way up his throat, he stomped it down. Instead he smiled, Eddie pulling a strand of hair in front of his mouth.

“Well I can’t exactly say yellow is your color but.. You look good Eds.” -Good isn’t exactly how I’d describe him but… I can’t think like that right now. After. Yeah after.-

Eddie grimaced looking Steve up and down. “Yeah well.. I can’t say the same about you. I don’t think anyone can pull those things off.”

Steve huffed pretending to flip his hair back. “Oh you don’t think I look good?” When Eddie cracked a smile, Steve playfully punched his shoulder before moving to sit back on the bean bag chair. There wasn’t anything else they could do except wait, and it was getting to the both of them. -He’s scared… And he’s staring.-

It was nearing lunch, Steve and Eddie were having a thumb war the score was 3-2. When they finally heard the boots coming down the hall. -One.. Five.. Nine.. Ten pairs.- “Eddie..” He looked over as their hands slid apart. They both stood up, Eddie staring at the door in fear. “Eds.” He whispered, putting his hand on the other's shoulder. “Just remember to behave okay? Behave and it’ll be okay. I’ll see you again soon.” He pulled him into a tight hug. “Soon.” He whispered.

Eddie clutched him just as tightly, claws digging into his arms. “It’s okay Eds.. It’ll be okay.” He pulled back, slowly. Their eyes met and he could feel that cold feeling wash over him again. -Oh Eddie.- “Remember what we talked about.” After a brief moment Eddie finally nodded, but he still looked just as scared. He gently put his hand on Eddie’s cheek. -Now’s not the time.- With one last smile he pulled back, standing side by side with Eddie.

The guards stopped outside the door. It was silent until the slit in the door was yanked open. “Cuff him, muzzle too.” A guard demanded before slamming closed the opening. With a long, deep sigh, Steve walked over to the pile of metal by the door.

Eddie told him last night the reason he was bound. Apparently when kicking and screaming didn’t work to get their hands off him. Biting and clawing was the next choice. And the choice after that, and after that too. In a barely audible voice Eddie admitted he killed several guards trying to get away. In an even quieter one Steve admitted that he did too.

He picked up the cuffs and lock first, turning towards Eddie. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, and he meant it. He didn’t want to do this. He never wanted to see Eddie locked away again.

“It’s okay.” Eddie whispered back, giving a shaky smile. -Not very reassuring.- He didn’t bother trying to smell the lie. He knew it already.

He slowly, and very carefully, got Eddie’s arms into the cuffs before sealing them with the heavy lock. Just as slowly he picked up the muzzle. If the guards wanted him to hurry they’d have to force him. -Shoot me then assholes. He doesn’t fucking deserve this.-

Clutching the muzzle, his knuckles almost white. He wanted to break it. Instead he stood in front of Eddie, both of them looked a moment away from shattering. “I’ll see you soon okay?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah Stevie… Okay.” Slowly he reached up, putting the heavy muzzle back onto him. The lock clicked heavily into place.

He pulled Eddie into another hug as the locks on the door clicked open. Thunk. “Be strong.” Thunk. “Behave.” Thunk. “We’ll get through this.” The door pulled open. Steve pulled back. The guards filled in around them, their guns aimed at Eddie.

“Out.” One of the guards ordered. When Steve went to move the guns were suddenly aimed towards him. Steve held up his hand. “Not you. Him.” The guard motioned to Eddie with his gun, the other guards led him out. He wasn’t snarling, nor growling.

Only two guards remained with him. They waited a moment before they took up their positions one in front, one behind Steve. And they led him towards the door. But before they left the room Steve’s eyes landed on the key, still laying on the floor by the door. -I have one chance.-

Time seemed to slow.. -Almost.- He took another step forward.. -Not yet.- He almost tripped himself into the guards back from nerves.. -A little further.- They were almost at the door… -Now!-

He pretended to trip, letting his face smack hard onto the tile. -Ow! Fuck!- His hand slammed down onto the ground, directly over the key. -Yes!- He slowly pushed himself up onto his hands, using his thumb to scoop the key into his palm. -They’re going to see. They’re going to see. They’re going to.. Socks!- He slid his hands up to his feet, letting the key slip down the front of his sock, before he pushed himself up fully.

“S-Sorry. Sorry. Still tired I guess.” He mumbled out, dusting himself off. “Ouch.” He rubbed at his cheek. -Really had to sell it by actually getting hurt. Fuc.. Ow.- His heart was beating out of his chest, if they saw-.. The guards snickered at him as the one behind him pushed at his shoulder, making him stumble moving forward. -Did I really just?..- The guards led him out and to the elevator.

He made it back to his room, his heart hammering the whole way. As they turned the corner to see his door -oh great, just what I needed- Brenner was waiting for them. Leaning ‘casually’ outside his door.

“Ah Steven good, glad I caught you.” -Where the fuck else would I be?... Shit did he know?!- He didn’t respond.

“I do hope you enjoyed your evening.” -He has that look on his face again. Stupid smug… Pervert. I bet you got off on it.-

“Yes.. Sir. We did…. Thank you.” He clenched his fists behind his back, to keep himself from doing anything rash.

“Wonderful. And Mr. Munson? Do you think you accomplished your goal?” -Oh yeah asshole. I definitely accomplished MY goal.-

“Yes sir. I explained that his behavior was unacceptable and told him about the rewards that he could earn if he was more.. Complacent.. More understanding.. More cooperative. I also told him if he behaved we would be allowed to hang out again. That seemed to get through to him. I.. I believe his misbehavior was due to loneliness and hunger. But I don’t believe it will be an issue going forward.” -I want to rip your throat out.- Steve cleared his throat. “I thought it was a good idea to allow him to wear my clothes. I know they were a gift.. Sir.. Thank you, but he would know he wasn’t alone and I thought… It would allow him to see the benefits to improving his behavior. What he could gain.” Brenner lit up the longer Steve spoke. -And the fact he smells like me now doesn’t hurt.-

“Oh Steven, this is wonderful! Yes. Yes. Wonderful.” -I seriously think you’re crazier than I am.- “I’ll let my associates know and if we see an improvement in him then I have just the reward in store.” Brenner stood up, giving Steve’s shoulder a rough pat, before walking down the hall. “No tests today Steven. Enjoy your day. You’ve earned it!” He waved off as the guards moved to unlock his door.

As soon as he was locked in his room Steve went over to the cabinet and pulled out a change of clothes. -I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I wasn’t caught!- His old swim sweatshirt and another pair of sweatpants. -I forgot how awful these gowns are. I feel naked… But it was worth it. Eddie has clothes now.. And he smells like me.- He smiled to himself, roughly pulling off the hospital gown.

He pulled on his sweatshirt taking a deep breath in. -Smells like…- His throat tightened. -Dustin. He.. He slept in it when he needed to borrow a pair of pajamas.- He closed his eyes trying to remember that night. -We watched.. Alien. Dustin had it in his backpack. And he.. Did we order pizza?.. No. No, I cooked. I made… I made lasagna! Yeah.-

He took another deep breath in before moving to pull on his sweatpants. He let the leg get caught on his heel. So the camera wouldn’t find it suspicious when he bent down and fiddled with his sock, secretly pulling out the key. His back may be to the camera but he wouldn’t take any chances. -Not if it meant putting Eddie in danger.- He slipped the key up his sleeve, fixing the leg of his pants. He moved his hands into his sweatshirt pocket, letting the key slide in.

He sat on his bed, the weight of the key felt like cement to him. -I can do this. I can do this. I have to do this.- He had to wait until lights out. -I have about a thirty second window. Maybe a minute at most. I can do this.- He had to do it. If he failed.. -Don’t think about that. Don’t focus on the what ifs. Not anymore.- He pulled the hood up over his head, letting the smell of it wash over him. He closed his eyes. He wasn’t tired but he didn’t have the energy to read right now.

Instead he flopped back against his pillow, on top of his blankets. Thinking. He had managed to get a key to free Eddie. -Just in case.- There had to be a way to swipe someone’s keycard. -So far it looks like all of the guards have them. One. Just one had to be obtainable.- He could.. -No. No, that’s my last resort. Well.. That and killing one of them. But I’d rather get it quietly.-

He let out an audible huff. But the keycard isn’t the hardest part. Yes it’s going to be hard, but not the hardest. -How exactly do I get a passcode? I could.. No. But what about?... Shit.. My last resort is looking more and more like my only resort. I don’t want to but I… If it gets Eddie and I out of here.. Last resort. Go through every available option first.-

And he would. He’d comb through every available option. Every possible plan. They needed the quickest, quietest, safest way out. -All three is probably.. Definitely asking too much. I’ll take quick and quiet if we can. We can.. Wing the safety. It’ll be fine.- He opened his eyes staring up at the ceiling. He let his eyes roam around the ceiling, tracing his pattern over and over. -Hellfire.. It really is always Eddie… If we.. When. When we get out of here.. I’ll.. We’ll have to talk.-

He laid there for the next several hours. He physically had plenty of energy to move, to do pushups, or pace. But mentally he was drained. So he just laid there, thinking. About Eddie. About himself. But his thoughts kept drifting back to home. He blamed the scents clinging to his sweatshirts. Dustin, Wayne, Robin. But he kept trying to push the thoughts back, to focus on anything else.

But nothing could stop his thoughts right now. It was like his thoughts were turned on high since he cried to Eddie. -I wonder if Wayne’s okay.- He tried tracing the pattern. -I wonder if Robin still works at Family Video.- He got up to take his dinner tray. -I wonder if Joyce and Hopper are dating yet.- He ate mechanically, not even tasting it. -I wonder if Jonathan and Nancy are still dating.- He gave his empty tray back to the guard. -I hope Eddie’s okay.-

He laid there after dinner just staring at the door. Waiting. His eyes occasionally flicking up to the clock. He tried to focus on what he had read. “When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he-” He started out loud, just to hear it echo in the quiet room… -Bilbo was very rich and very peculiar, and had been the wonder of the Shi-... Oh you little shit!- He ran his hand down his face, he wanted to laugh, a genuine smile splitting his lips. Whoever was watching the camera probably thought him insane. But Dustin had called him Bilbo before. Several times in fact. And while he hadn’t even looked at a copy of The Hobbit, the first chapter of The Fellowship of the Ring had him agreeing. -If I ever tell him he’ll never let me live it down.-

But he had to agree. Bilbo was rich and peculiar, he lived in a house people gossipped about. Steve’s parents were rich, and after he faced the demogorgon people had started calling him odd. That he acted peculiar. Especially when he started to change -for the better-. He also lived in a house people gossipped about.

Bilbo had a remarkable disappearance, and an unexpected return. He already had the remarkable disappearance down. -Now I just need to have that unexpected return. And I will. I will.- They called Bilbo well preserved and unchanged. Well.. Every time he’s been able to look at himself these past two odd years, he doesn't appear to have changed at all. His face looks exactly like it did after he.. Changed. -Owens said he wasn’t sure if I’d age.. Maybe I will become well preserved, unchanged, perpetually youthful… Huh. I mean it’s only been two years, maybe I just haven’t changed much.-

Bilbo had many admirers and no close friends until his younger cousins grew up… -Well shit.. I guess Dustin was right. Well.. I.. Oh man! That kid’s going to be insufferable!.... I can’t wait.-

He glanced back at the clock. It was almost time. -Five… Four… Three…- He took a deep breath. -Two… One…- The lights clicked off. The camera powered down for just a few moments.

He didn’t waste a second. He shot off his bed at an inhuman speed. Between one blink and the next he was at the wall, under his desk. He wiggled out one of the loose bricks he found there. It was unremarkable and unnoticeable to anyone who looked at it. But his vision was better than that of a humans, he noticed. He quickly and carefully, not making any noise, pulled the brick out of the wall. He slid the key inside, on top of a pocket knife and a packet of gum.

Just as fast as he took the brick out, he put it back in and was back in his bed. The exact same position, as if he hadn’t moved at all. The camera clicked back on with a whirl, shifting into night vision. The whole thing took less than thirty seconds. But he was back in his bed far before it would have noticed.

His heart was beating out of his chest. It was an odd feeling since typically he either didn’t feel it, or it was a barely there feeling. Beating far slower than a humans would. Often not at all. -Owens wanted to monitor me for that. Said it seemed to correlate with my emotions, similar to my breathing.. But Hopper.. Yeah Hopper, had stopped him. Said I wasn’t a lab rat… I still can’t figure it out though. It’s like.. It beats when it wants to? I don’t remember what exactly Owens said!..- He sucked in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. He didn’t need to breathe nearly as much as a human did either, most of the time he didn’t need to at all. -Owens said it seemed to just be instinctual. That I remember! He said.. That I had done it all my life so my body still did it as if I needed to breathe to live still. It just.. Feels weird not to. I mean I’m used to breathing and it makes them still think I’m human here so… The kids thought it was great. Erica wanted to see if I’d still be able to drown.. Crazy kid…. I miss them so much.-

Steve held his hand out above his face. He stretched his fingers letting his claws come out, before withdrawing them. He did it again. And again. It did nothing to hold back his thoughts. -I wonder if Robin and Vickie are dating. Maybe she found someone at college.- He let his claws come out again. -I wonder if.. I wonder if they all miss me.- He pulled his claws back. -I wonder if Wayne managed to get that new recliner he wanted.- He extended his claws again.

-I wonder if my parents came back to town.- He let out a groan, pulling his claws back as he rolled over onto his side, away from the camera. -If they did, what would they have found?- He couldn’t remember what the house looked like before he left. -...What did it matter?- He pulled the strings on his hood. -None of that matters. They don’t matter. They didn’t even want…. None of it matters until we get out of here.. It can’t.- It could but he refused to think on it. He tried to push the thought back into the deepest part of his brain. He already let himself cry once. He couldn’t do it again. He wouldn’t be able to pull himself together, not now. -I just need to get us a keycard, a passcode too if I can.. Then we can find a way out.-

---

The door yanked open, jolting him out of the meditative state he’d fallen into. He hadn’t even heard the locks turning.

Chapter 12: A Promise Made

Summary:

Steve goes through it again.
He has a little breakdown.
A promise is made.

Notes:

Warning: Drugs... Brenner is his own warning though. That creep.

The door yanked open, jolting him out of the meditative state he’d fallen into. He hadn’t even heard the locks turning. Steve sat up quickly, his heart racing. Ten armed guards entered his room, surrounding his bed.

“Get up!” One of them shouted. He jumped up and out of the bed as quickly as he could consider normal. One of the other guards grabbed his arm, dragging him harshly into the hallway. His back slammed into the wall. -Shit! What are they?..- Two guns were suddenly aimed at his forehead. His eyes widened. He dropped his arms by his sides standing straight, and as still as possible. He barely allowed them to see him breathe, he was terrified. What was going on?

They were turning his room upside down. His mattress was being thrown against the wall as they searched it for tears. His cabinet was turned upside down, his few belongings being yanked out and thrown onto the floor. Even his desk drawer was ripped out. -As if I have anything to put in it… No! Not my book!- One of the guards grabbed both ends of the book, flipping it upside down, letting its pages flap as they shook it. Before it too was roughly tossed onto the hard floor.

“Did you find it?” Brenner’s voice cut through Steve’s rising panic as he came down the hall, he looked annoyed. -Did they find?.. Shit! The key!-

“No sir.” One of the guards responded. His room looked like a tornado had torn its way through it. Steve didn’t own many things, but every single one was thrown onto the floor.

Brenner turned towards him at the same time he noticed one of the guards using a knife to cut open his mattress. “Steven… We’ve already searched and questioned Munson. So I’m going to give you a chance to tell me.. You were given a key to unlock him two days ago were you not?”

Steve nodded quickly, bordering on terrified. -No use in lying.- “Yes sir I was.” -What if they knew? What if they found..?-

Brenner leaned forward, inspecting him. “Where is it?”

He wanted to take a breath of relief. But he couldn’t. Instead Steve scrunched up his eyebrows, pretending to give it some thought. -Shit. Okay Steve. You’ve done this plenty of times before. Just lie. Lie like your life depends on it. Lie like Eddie’s life depends on it… Because it does.- “I.. I unlocked his cuffs and the muzzle then I.. I put it on the ground? In the same pile?” He looked up, meeting Brenner’s eyes directly. It made the man take a step back. -He talks big. But he’s just as scared of me as the rest of them.-

Steve barely let himself relax on the inside, not letting Brenner or any of the guards notice on the outside. “I don’t?.. I put the cuffs and muzzle back on him in the morning and then left afterwards. I don’t remember seeing a key. I’m quite certain I gave it back to the guards after letting Eddie out.” He nodded, pretending he had nothing to hide. “Yeah! Yeah I did. Because I knocked twice on the door like normal, and I even said thank you too.”

Brenner’s shoulders seemed to drop as he stood up fully, turning towards the guards. “Anything?” The last guard stepped from his room, shaking his head no. “Hmm. I see.” He turned back to face Steve. “We are unable to get a hold of the guards at the moment.” -This is.. The best possible thing to happen to me. Are you serious right now?! This is some… Eddie would have a good reference but yeah! Great!- He focused back on Brenner who was still talking. “But we were quite thorough here.. I suppose I must apologize Steven.” -What?- “You’ve been rather well behaved after all. Just a simple misunderstanding I suppose.” -Oh yeah. Real small misunderstanding. No biggie.-

He felt like his heart was going to explode. This was the single most stressful thing he had ever done, and he’d faced a demogorgon with a baseball bat! “You’ve even managed to get Mr. Munson to behave. So far at least.” -Okay so Eddie didn’t fight them today. Good. Good.- Brenner reached up and gave Steve a pat on the head. -I’m not a fucking pet.- He wanted to rip his arm off. -I will.. One day I will.-

“Apologies for the abrupt search Steven. Do keep up your good behavior.” Brenner hummed looking around. “You!” He pointed to one of the guards. -Was it random? Or does he just know which specific guard was which? They all roughly dress the same, plain black, I mean the bulky ones are usually their leaders but.. Some of them you can hardly tell apart, especially when they wear the masks.- He tried not to grimace thinking about the last time he saw the masks. “Escort Steven to the showers. The rest of you do clean up here.” Brenner turned back to Steve. “Afterwards you’ll get to enjoy breakfast with me. We have a few things to go over afterall.”

Steve nodded, teeth clenching. -Great. That’s just.. I hope you choke on it.- The guard motioned for him to follow, turning left away from his room. -You piece of.. Deep breath. They didn’t find it. They won’t find it. They’ve never found my hiding spot. Well.. They found the other one but.. No. Not this one. It’s safe. Eddie’s safe. He’s okay.- He let himself slowly start to relax the further he got away from his room, away from Brenner.

When Steve was brought into the shower he just stood there. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath until his lungs began to burn. Slowly he let it out. -Breakfast with Brenner.. Great. Just what I wanted… Just. great.- He rolled his eyes pulling off his clothes. There weren’t any spares here. But thankfully those were still clean. He walked over to the corner showers, turning both of them on.

Steve just stood there under the spray. He let the water run over his face, down his chest, his back. Letting it chase the cold from his bones. -Or maybe the cold isn’t why I’m shaking.- He took another deep breath, in, out. He wasn’t in a hurry as there was no soap left out for him to wash himself with. It was hidden within the spray of the shower that he allowed a few tears to escape. -I could have gotten us killed. I could have.. They could have taken everything away. I could have lost Eddie. I can’t.. I can’t do this without him. Not again.-

He pressed his forehead against the cold tiles. Clenching his eyes shut hard enough that white spots danced behind his closed eyes. -Eddie… Eddie..- He wanted to break down. He wanted to scream. -Eddie…- ‘Steve?’ He flinched back, nearly tripping against the wet floor.

He looked around frantically. Was that?.. No. No it couldn’t be. -I’m going insane. This is it, I’m finally going insane. Hearing Eddie when I.- ‘Steve? Is that.. Can you hear me?’ Steve froze halfway under the spray of water. He couldn’t feel his heart beat. He stopped his breathing. Scared to break the spell. -Ed.. Eddie? Are you.. Are you real?- ‘Yeah Stevie. Pretty fuckin’ real.’ -H.How?-

He didn’t dare move. He felt more terrified than he did watching them tear through his room. ‘I have absolutely no idea. All of a sudden I feel this push, a pressure, like how I did when I knew to take your hand. Then I’m hearing you say my name over and over. I um.. I think this one’s on you pretty boy.’ -You think I’m pretty?- His eyes widen. -Shit I uh.. I don’t really know what I did. Or how to stop it. I.. Eddie, are you okay?-

He slowly reached up to turn off the showers, still scared that movement would disrupt whatever it was he did. ‘Yeah Stevie I’m okay. They came in this morning and searched around, interrogated me too but they never said what they were looking for.’ He ran his hands through his wet hair. -I do… I um.. I saw a chance and I kind of.. Took it. Literally. I um.. I took the key they gave me to unlock you. I hid it! Don’t worry. But um.. Yeah they came in and searched me too, they didn’t find it…. Eddie?-

‘Yeah. Yeah Stevie I’m here. You.. Shit man. That’s.. That’s good. Yeah it’s good.’ -Yeah but now I have to go have breakfast with Brenner so.. I’m glad you’re okay.- He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. ‘...I’m glad you’re okay too. Do you think you know how to-.’ -Eddie?... Eds?.. Shit okay. Great. Just something else I can’t control.-

He groaned, running his hand down his face. -Stop it. I don’t need wrinkles on top of everything else… Can I even get wrinkles?- He ran his hands through his hair again, shaking out the water. There wasn’t a towel for him either.

Steve walked over to his clothes, he used the outside of his sweatshirt to pat himself just a little bit drier. He then got redressed, the end of his hair still damp. With another deep breath. -Nerves.. I’m nervous. Whatever Brenner wants it can’t be good.- He walked over to the door and knocked.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The locks clicked open. Steve walked out, following the guard down the hall. Occasionally he ran a hand through his hair, squeezing out some more water. He left several puddles behind on their walk. -Right, skip, skip, skip, left, skip, skip, left, right, skip, skip, skip, to the end of the hall. There’s no locks on the door.. Where are we?- He doesn’t remember ever coming to this side of the floor before. The guard opened the door, standing to the side. With a roll of his shoulders Steve walked in, flinching when the door shut heavily behind him.

“Ah Steven, come. Come. Sit.” Brenner was seated with his back facing the door, a circular table filled with food in front of him. Slowly, Steve walked into the room. It was filled with various machines, the sound of rushing water coming from somewhere nearby. He couldn’t place which direction it was coming from. -This looks.. Similar to the interrogation room.-

He walked over to the only other available chair, sitting down across from Brenner. -No wires? No pads?- He looked down as Brenner pushed a full plate of breakfast in front of him. “We have much to discuss but I think we’d both enjoy some food first. Don’t you?”

He looked down, staring at the plate in front of him. -Eggs. Not powdered but real eggs. Bacon, hashbrowns, a muffin… Hmm.- He subtly flared his nostrils. He held back from flinching again. -Shit.- A repulsive stench filled his nose. He could smell the aroma of the food but underneath it was something.. Vile. -Is it.. Poison? Some type of drug? Shit. Shit! If I don’t eat it he’ll know that I know. If I do eat it.. Fuck!- He wanted to scream.

Steve glanced up at Brenner. The man was watching him, intensely. Slowly he picked up his fork. “...Thank you.” He mumbled, resisting the urge to bend the fork. -Or stick it in his neck.- He shakily stabbed the eggs. -Better just.. Get it over with.- He ignored the slight burn in his throat as he made quick work of the food. -God. Please don’t kill me.-

Besides the burn and the unpleasant smell, the food itself was good. It was filling even. Even more so when Brenner pushed a second full plate in front of Steve. -Definitely drugged then. Guess I’ll find out what they do soon enough.- He ate his second plate, watching as Brenner finally turned to work on his own food.

He allowed his nostrils to unnoticeably flare again. -His food isn’t drugged.. Dick. Wait… Is that..?- When he finished his second plate, Brenner pushed over a cup of blood. -How did I not notice it before?- He looked at the cup taking another breath in. -So food is fair game but the blood isn’t tampered with?.. He probably knows I’d notice. Jokes on you.. I noticed anyway.-

He picked it up, nearly moaning at the first taste. Human. -Please don’t be Brenner’s.. That.. That would be so fucking weird.- He took a longer sip. -He’s staring at me and.. Oh.- He put the cup down with a heavy thud. It suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. Steve blinked several times to try and clear his vision. It was becoming.. -Fuzzy isn’t the right word I’d… Ooh.- He licked over his teeth. The drugs. -Oooh.- He made a clicking noise as he sucked on his teeth. The drugs felt far too similar to the ones the Russians used.. -No.. No, they feel exactly like the Russian drugs. I feel.. Good. But.. But something’s.. Mm something’s different.-

He looked down at the heavy mug in his hands. -You shouldn’t have given me blood afterwards.. Dummy. No, thas’ the wrong word.. Idiot. Mhm. It’s… It’s fighting off the bad bits.- His head gently bobbed in a nod to himself. -Mm a bit slow. But is.. Is.. It’s helping.. The bad bits.- He looked up at Brenner.

“Your smile is creepy.” He admitted. Giving Brenner a toothy, blood covered smile. -Wasn’t forced out.. Gotta.. Gotta let ‘em think is working.. Full effect.- He gently swayed forward in his seat. “And your hair is too thin. Are you sick?” He nodded at the man.

Brenner narrowed his eyes sitting back in his chair. His hands resting in front of his own empty plate. -His smelt normal. That’s jus’ rude. Rude. Rude. Rude.- “Steven.” He blew a raspberry at the name. “..Steven.” Another raspberry, laughter bubbling up with it. “Did you take that key?”

He blew a longer raspberry just to annoy the man. He felt good, this felt good. “Mmm yes.” He nodded, Brenner sitting up quickly. “They threw it at me so I used it to let Eddie out.” The man relaxed back, looking more annoyed.

“Steven-” Another raspberry. “I meant, did you take the key out of the room? Did you steal it? Are you hiding it?” Steve shook his head, still smiling.

“Nooo. No. No. No. I toooold you.” He swayed his head back and forth, his hair flopping wetly. “I gave it back.” -Mmm this.. This feels nice. Feels real good. Gosta’.. Gotta lie though. Gotta.-

Brenner hummed, rapping his fingers against the table. “Good to know.. Now Steven.” He blew another raspberry, a giggle tearing its way out of him. Brenner narrowed his eyes. “Tell me what you know about One.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to hum as he blinked, slowly. “One.. Two.. Three..” He laughed leaning backwards in his chair. -Feel so nice.-

“Steven.” Brenner shouted, once, loud, an order. It was enough to draw him back to the conversation.

“Mm One. One.. One. He was. Ugly. Real ugly. He got into peeps.. Peepses.. People’s. Got into people’s heads.” He nodded looking down at his hands, watching his fingers wiggle. -Eddie has nice hands.- He smiled at his hands until Brenner cleared his throat. He narrowed his eyes until he remembered he was supposed to be speaking. “He. Made them.. Die?” He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Nooo. No, he killed them. They gots broken bones.” He nodded, reaching over to stick his finger into his half drunk cup of blood.

Steve brought his fingers to his mouth, licking it clean. Brenner made a face of disgust. “Mm he got into my friend’s heads. Couldn’t kill ‘em though. Didn’t let him. We.. We went after him?” The other man raised his eyebrows.

Steve nodded his eyes zeroing in on an old stain on the wooden table. His eyes looked wide, wild, he stared at the stain intensely. -What.. Had we done?..- “We.. Went into the… The Upside Down. Nance.. Shot him!” He laughed suddenly, his eyes not moving from the stain as his body shook. “Then we lit him on fire!” Steve nodded to himself. “So much fire.” He whispered, letting his eyes roam up and over Brenner. “Burnt him right up. Watched him die.” -Gonna watch you die… Asshole.- “Then Robs whacked him! With… With her axe! Mhm. Cut his head right off. Made sure he was dead.” He nodded again. “We killed him.”

He straightened up suddenly, like someone pulled all his strings tight. Steve stared straight at Brenner. The man looked.. Horrified. He smiled, all teeth. “You all.. Killed him? You’re sure of it? -Sure sure.. No. Wait we didn’t.. But shhh. It’s a secret.- Steve nodded, more to himself than to Brenner.

“Yup! Took his head off just in case. Eleven said he was dead, dead, this time.” Brenner’s mouth grew tight, his nostrils flaring. -Ooh you’re angry! Good. Good.. Good.- He did his best not to sway his head, but he felt like a balloon. Like any moment he would float away. -Gotta hand it to ‘em. They know how to make some good drugs.-

“I see..” Brenner finally responded after they sat in silence for several minutes. “How are you feeling Steven?”

He slowly opened his eyes, when had he closed them? He blew another, weak, raspberry just to annoy the man. “Mm feelin’ good. Feel floaty… Like a balloon. Gonna fly away.” He wanted to lift his cup, take another long drink of blood. But his arms were feeling like steel.

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re feeling good. I’m going to ask you another question, which you’ll of course answer.” Steve hummed, smiling again. “And then you can go take a nap. Sounds good?” Steve tried to nod, he wasn’t sure if he actually did though. His head felt like cement.

“Good. We’ve been trying to figure you boys out. Unfortunately we only had enough of this modified drug to give one of you, and Mr. Munson is still too.. Testy. To try it out on. But I’ve been informed you’ve already had this once before. That you’d be more.. Susceptible, to it. Of course I’m only telling you this because I’ve been assured you won't remember our conversation later.” -Mm shit.. Do I remember after the Russians?... Do I?-

Brenner leaned forward, his hands waving as he spoke. “I understand you boys can control your claws.” At this Steve looked at his hands, letting his claws come out. -Sharp.- “That’s a good boy.” He just blinked up at Brenner. “I also understand you can see just fine in the dark.”

He didn’t wait for a response before continuing on. “My associates managed to find out what happened to you in the Hawkins lab.” -Oh…. Shit… What exactly do they know?- His thoughts were still too sluggish to panic. “So I’d like to know. What else are you hiding from us Steven? What else can you do?”

Steve slowly pulled his claws back. Blinking. “Mm.” He hummed trying to clear his thoughts. “Can.. Can feel.”

Brenner motioned for him to continue. “Can feel… Eddie.” -Shhh. Secret.- He blinked slowly.

“Munson? What can you feel?” Brenner was almost leaning over the table, waiting for his answer.

“Feels… Feels nice when he touches me.” He admitted. “Been alone.. Like not being alone.” Brenner sat back, disappointed.

“I see. I tho-”

Steve interrupted. He felt as if he couldn’t hold back his answer, his stream of consciousness making itself known. “Missed Eddie. Thought he was dead. It’s nice that he’s not. Liked seeing him again. Likes when he hugged me. Liked touching his hair.” He nodded, looking more serious than he felt. “Felt like something was missin’. But then I saw him.” A small smile came back to his face.

“Steven.. That isn’t what I meant.” Steve hummed, carefully reaching up for his cup of now cold blood. He felt as if he had to strain his arms just to move them.

He lifted it with shaky hands, scared he’d drop it. He took a sip, making a face. “Bleh.” It was cold. But he forced himself to finish it. His thoughts slowly becoming clearer.

“I want to know what you’re capable of.” Steve shrugged, letting blood purposely coat his lips. He knew how much it bothered Brenner. -Don’t let him know anything.- He nodded at his own thoughts.

“You already know. I gots.. Claws.” He demonstrated again, letting his claws out before pulling them back in, letting his hand fall back to his lap. “I um.. I prefer human blood but cow is my next favorite.” He knew this isn’t at all what the man meant. “Um.. I can see much better than you can in the dark.”

“Then a person can.” Brenner interrupted. -You fucking..- He narrowed his eyes.

“Then a human can.” Steve corrected, slowly licking the blood on his lips. “But.. I don’t think there’s much else. I think you all know more ‘bout me than I do at this point.”

Brenner hummed, straightening his posture. “I see.. It seems the drugs are almost at their end. So one last question. Are you planning an escape Steven?”

He forced himself to blink, slowly. To make Brenner think he wasn’t panicking. But on the inside he wanted to throw up. Wanted to scream, to break something. He took a breath before answering. “Nope. Don’t see the point. Where else would I go?”

Brenner, whether he believed him or not Steve wasn’t sure. But he smiled, seeming to relax at the answer. “Good. That’s very good. Because you’re correct. Where else would you go Steven?” He really hated that name. “None of your friends have even looked for you.” He froze, that can’t be true, can it? “Your parents certainly haven’t even bothered to try. They’re all better off without you in their way. Now they don’t have to worry about you losing control and killing one of them.”

-You fucking.. Fuck you! Fuck you no! That isn’t true! I mean sure maybe my parents haven’t bothered to look for me but the Party has! They… They had to of…. Right?- His chest felt tight. His throat felt tight. He felt dizzy. He wanted to throw up.

He wasn’t paying attention. He could feel his heat pounding in his chest. It hurt. He hurt. -They looked for me.. But.. But did they? Were they?... Were they better off without me? Were they really scared I’d attack one of them?.. No they.. Were they?-

He was abruptly pulled from his thoughts as two pairs of hands lifted him to his feet. Two guards on either side of him had holds on his upper arms. But he couldn’t focus. Could barely move his legs, continuously tripping over his own feet. The only reason he didn’t fall over was due to their tight grips on him. He was lost in his own head. He knew Brenner said something before he left but he couldn’t bother to pay attention.

-Did they really want me gone? No they.. But.. Without me they wouldn’t have to look over their shoulders. They wouldn’t have to worry if I had enough blood. They.. They could live normal lives. But.. But they looked for me….. Right?-

He felt a sting in his eyes. His hands beginning to shake. -Did they care that I was gone?- He took a shaky, wet breath in. -Did they want me gone?- He clenched his eyes shut against the sting. He didn’t want to cry in front of them. -Hopper.. Joyce.. D.Dustin.. Robin.. Did.. Did they want me gone?- ‘Of course not.’

-Lucas. Erica. Mike. Nancy. Were they scared of me?- ‘I don’t know what shit’s going through your head but you know that isn’t true.’ He sucked in a sharp breath. Eddie’s harsh tone cutting through his thoughts. -E..Eddie? Eddie they.. They didn’t look for me.. They didn’t look for us.- He blinked back tears as his door came into view.

‘Stevie I don’t know what bullshit you were told but that isn’t true. And you know it.’ He didn’t allow himself to cry until the door slammed shut behind him. He crawled into his bed curling up on top of the blanket. -Eddie.. Eddie it’s true. They haven’t come. They didn’t. They didn’t look. I don’t..- He furiously rubbed at his eyes, willing his tears back. Forgetting the conversation his ass. -I don’t know if they’re scared of me. But.. But they didn’t look. They didn’t come.-

It was silent in his room besides his occasional sniffle. It was even quieter in his head until Eddie, quietly, cautiously, replied. ‘Does it matter?... Stevie… I’m here. I’ll look for you. You and me. Me and you. We’ll get out of here. We’ll get out of this shithole and we’ll find a place just for us okay? You listening to me Harrington?! We’re going to get out of here, together. And we’re going to be okay. Do you understand me?! Steve?!’

-...Yeah.- It sounded weak, even he knew that. -Yeah Eds I.. I understand you. We’re gonna.. We’re gonna get out of here. And.. And we’ll figure everything out. Together. Yeah we.. We can do that.- He rubbed at his eyes, pulling his hood back over his head. Eddie made him feel just a little bit better, a little lighter. ‘We’re going to get the hell out of here and fuck it! If we can’t go back to Hawkins we’ll figure something out. We’ll go live in a castle like Dracula!’

Steve laughed, a smile cracking through. He buried his hands into his pockets. ‘We’ll become hermits if we have to. But we’ll do it together, okay? I’m not leaving you again. I won’t run this time.’ -Okay Eds. We’ll.. We’ll stick together. We can do this. We can.. We’ll go look for a castle.- ‘Say it with me Stevie. We’re gonna do it together.’ -We’ll do it together Eds.-

‘Together.’

-Together.-

Chapter 13: The Pit

Summary:

Steve goes through it again.

The overhead lights buzzed faintly, washing the walls in a sickly flickering off grey. His feet skidding uselessly against the linoleum floor, toes turned inward, legs limp as dead weight. Two sets of hands weighed heavily against his upper arms, fingers digging into his bare flesh with a bruising force. Every pull, every move, sent a fresh wave of fire through his shoulders. Were they broken? Or would the next move simply rip them from their sockets?

His head lolled forward, chin brushing his chest. The muscles in his neck refused to cooperate. But it didn’t matter, he was too far gone, too drained, too shattered. His body felt like a single, swollen bruise. Every inch of skin throbbed with the same heavy ache. Like he’d been pounded into the shape of a person and barely held together.

He wanted to scream, or cry, or move, but nothing came. His limbs hung slack, swinging with each rough step they took. His breath, when his body decided it needed air, was caught in shallow bursts, sharp and ragged. As if the air itself had become too heavy for his body to carry. The floor dragged beneath him like sandpaper against his bare feet. A low moan slipped out, half-voluntary, swallowed by the echoing hallway.

Whoever the hand belonged to, the noise did not deter them from their path. They kept going, hauling him deeper into the cold, humming silence. It took every ounce of energy he had to crack open his eyes. He wanted to hiss at the light, but he didn’t have any strength left. Where was he? What happened?... Oh. Right…

---

Steve and Eddie had managed to keep communicating well into the night. But they still have no idea how to control it, or even what triggers it. But they didn’t let it bother them. They talked about everything and nothing. Most of it revolved around the reason for Steve’s panic.

-Because it’s been over two years Eddie! If they were looking for us, for me, they would have been here by now. They have Eleven. She’s been able to find people before. This isn’t any different.-

‘Okay I hear you I do. But, assuming she hasn’t lost her powers again if we were say.. Not in America, could she still find us?’

-I don’t know I’m not the psychic teen here. I’m just saying. If they were looking, we would have been found.-

‘Yeah no, I get that. I do. And you’re right. But after everything you’ve told me you can’t sit there and think Wayne wouldn’t be searching for you. Do you?’

-Eddie…. I.. I know he would. But it’s been two years. Either he gave up too or.. I don’t know! Okay! I just…-

‘I know.. I know. You’ve made some good points, let’s just.. Let’s just drop it for now. We can ask them later if you want just.. Tell me about the drug. Just in case they use it on me.’

Their communication had dropped sometime in the early morning, in the middle of Eddie telling Steve about the first time Wayne had caught him smoking. It was a story Wayne had already told him, but Eddie’s version was just as amusing.

They had brought him breakfast earlier than normal. That was his first indication that today would be a bad day. His second was when he had begun to feel lightheaded in the middle of eating. He had been relaxed enough due to his conversation with Eddie that he hadn’t noticed he stopped breathing. So he hadn’t smelt that his eggs had been tampered with.

But that wouldn’t matter. Even if he knew he still would have eaten it. He didn’t really have a choice. But it would have been nice to know. He was unconscious, his tray clattering to the floor, before he finished his blood bag.

Steve had woken up his cheek pressed against something cold, hard, and damp. The taste of egg and dust clung to the back of his throat. A throbbing ache pulsed behind his eyes, the pressure in his skull made his stomach turn. His eyes fluttered open, lashes caked in the dust that seemed to float through the air.

He laid still for a moment, letting the chill of the floor seep into his skin, trying to gather himself back up. With a groan he sat up, the light glaring into his eyes. Too bright, too sterile. He squinted, blinking the dust away, as the blurs around him sharpened into walls, into bars.

It had taken him a few moments to realize what was going on. The pounding in his skull being the leftovers of his body burning through the drugs at an inhuman speed. He looked around, looked up.

Above him stretched a dome of glass, massive, towering, seamless. It arched high overhead like a transparent sky, fractured only by narrow steel ribs that crisscrossed like the skeleton of a bastardized cathedral. The only thing that looked out of place on the glass were the multiple security cameras, their blinking red lights mocking him. The light that flooded the room came from the concrete ceiling sitting high above the dome. Their lights grey and cold, like the room itself.

He had pushed himself up on trembling arms, the drugs not yet fully out of his system. The concrete had scraped against his palm, stinging momentarily before his body healed itself. He looked at the room itself. The walls held evenly spaced poles. Cells. Made of identical, heavy, thick, rusted metal bars. No handles, no prisoners. Just him.

A shiver ran down his spine as he turned, almost spinning in a circle. Taking in the room around him. His breath beginning to pick up, until a speaker clicked on with a screech of feedback. Steve had covered his ears, frantically looking around for the source.

“Ah Steven!” Brenner’s voice called out. -Because of course it was him.- “You’re awake earlier than expected!” His voice echoed around the walls, it made the throbbing in his head pick back up.

“You may be wondering where you are.” -Obviously.- “Well.. This is the old fighting grounds of the Grey Room. They called it The Pit. You see Steven, my associates want to see what you’re capable of. And I must admit, I do as well. But until now we haven’t had anything to use.”

Steve swallowed roughly, his mouth feeling bone dry. What could they possibly use to see what he’s capable of? What did that even mean?.. Were they going to use Eddie? The thoughts flew through his head until Brenner continued.

“We managed to secure several fine specimens. Of course we’ll start you out with one. But I have high hopes we can get up to at least three today.” -Three? Three what? People?-

“Of course I’m not heartless.” -Yes you are.- “I’ll be taking into account how the Grey Room used to do their tests here. While I would prefer you do it without aid, I understand that may be asking too much at the moment as you have no combat experience as a monster.” -I will when I… Wait. What?-

He nearly flinched back when two chains dropped down. One held a machete the other.. -Oh..- The other held his nail bat. He slowly reached his hand out, but pulled back at the last second. Was this a trick? How did they get it? Why now?

“Ah yes you see this is your choice. You may however, only choose one. So do go ahead….. Choose Steven!” This time he did flinch, Brenner hadn’t properly yelled at him before. He looked between the two weapons. In the end it wasn’t much of a choice, he picked up his nail bat. It was more familiar. Just as soon as he pulled it toward himself did the chains disappear up into wherever they appeared from. He didn’t bother to look.

He knew Brenner was talking again but he didn’t pay attention as he twirled his bat between his fingers. -Like I never lost you.- He slowly allowed himself to pay attention, did Brenner ask him something? “Of course you’ve faced them before but never like this.” -Wait what? Clearly I missed something.- “But monster against monster was just too good an opportunity to pass up.” -Okay yeah, I’ve definitely missed something!-

He whipped around to face one of the cells as a loud clank echoed through the quiet room. Something was coming up. There was snarling, growling. Then a guttural roar. He knew what it was before he saw it. -A Demogorgon.- Fear gripped him like a vice, he stood stock still, frozen. Until he saw it. Its jaw opened wide, flower-like, and dripping. It let out an ear piercing shriek when it saw Steve. A sound born of something thick and angry, the promise of violence.

It came up on a pedestal, heavy chains wrapped around it. He wasn’t sure if it was to secure it, or to protect it. But it didn’t matter. He took several quick steps backwards until his back hit the far wall, his eyes wide and panicked.

The chains around the demogorgon dropped, his grip tightened around his bat. It threw itself at the cell door, the rusted metal groaning underneath the pressure. But it didn’t give. -Not yet at least.- He swallowed hard, taking in a deep breath. He was going to have to fight it. Would have to fight more after it if anything Brenner said was true.

He could feel his heart beating again, rapidly like the wings of a hummingbird. Steve closed his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath, before slowly letting it out. He had to do this. He had to do this and he had to win. Steve didn’t know how many demogorgons they have, but if he can take out as many as possible, then Eddie would never have to do this. -Not until they get more at least.-

Steve’s eyes flew open, staring directly at the demogorgon. He’d give it everything he had. He let his claws fully extend. Let his mouth feel fuller. -I can’t hold back… Even if it means letting them see the truth.- He tightened his grip on the bat.

“Oh and Steven… Do put on a good show. My associates are watching.” His nostrils flared in anger. But before he could respond, the door clicked open.

The demogorgon charged. Its long claws outstretched, aiming for Steve’s face. He ducked under its arm, swinging his bat. Hard. It connected with the creature’s torso, he hadn’t held back so the force sent it flying back into the wall.

He swallowed hard, his body shaking. He could do this. He had to do this. The demogorgon was getting back up. It suddenly let out a howl. It was the kind of noise that made you run before your brain could catch up to your legs. The kind that stopped hearts… The kind that echoed a response back from the others waiting below. Their howls and shrieks louder than speaker feedback.

If Steve was human he was sure that his heart would have given out by now with how fast it was beating. He swiveled around when he heard the clank of gears and chains. -Another one.- He saw the top of its head coming up into another cell.

A scream tore its way out of his throat as the demogorgon took its chance to pounce on his back. Its claws digging into his back. Its pedal like mouth clamping around his shoulder blade. Steve had been too distracted and it took its chance. He wouldn’t let them have another, he couldn’t.

He rammed himself backwards into the wall. The other demogorgon screeched. The one on his back fell off, distracted. Steve whipped around, he was still trying to keep his speed in check. But he felt dizzy, his breathing wouldn’t calm down, wouldn’t stop. At this rate he’d give himself a panic attack.

The bat creaked with how tightly he gripped it. -No. No I can’t. I can’t lose this. I won’t fucking die here!- He didn’t hesitate as he swung that bat at the demogorgon’s head. It connected, just barely. As the monster dodged around attempting to sink its claws into Steve again.

He managed to spin out of the attack. But another came. The mouth clamping around Steve’s outstretched fist. He screamed, he hadn’t heard the other be released.

He froze. It was a moment of hesitation but it was enough to allow the second demogorgon to also sink its claws into Steve’s side. The first getting up to its full height, screaming in their direction. -I’m going to die.- He blinked. Time seemed to slow as the first demogorgon prepared to lunge. Its arms thrown out at its sides.

Steve wanted to let go of his bat, but if he did he knew it’d be over. With his fist being gnawed off, the other demogorgon was getting closer. Its claws outstretched towards his face, his eyes. -I’m going to die.- He blinked again, slowly. He thought of Eddie. Of Wayne. Of Dustin and Robin. He thought about the life he could have had if he hadn’t been changed. But he didn’t want that life anymore. The life where Eddie was dead, where he was stuck making three dollars an hour, where he was alone.

He sucked in a deep breath. If he died here Eddie would be alone. If he died here he’d never get his answers. He’d never get to-. If he died here he’d never get to apologize to Wayne, for leaving him after he just lost his son. -No.-

He ripped his fist out of the demogorgon’s mouth. The monster screeching in pain as Steve’s claws ripped across and through its mouth. He whipped around. As he did he grabbed the demogorgon’s shoulder. He ripped it off of his back, throwing it into the one charging at him.

The two flew backwards twisting, snarling, screeching, at one another. Steve looked at his hand and wanted to gag. It would heal.. He hoped. But he couldn’t think about that right now. -No more distractions.- He twirled the bat between his fingers, ignoring the pain. He rolled his shoulder, bending his knees. He was ready.

The fight was a blur to him. All he remembers is twisting, twirling, snarling. At one point his head slammed into the concrete floor, not the first or the last time. At another he smashed his bat repeatedly into one of the demogorgon’s heads. Two more came up through the cells. One down, three to go.

He remembers a wet sharp feeling in his arms, at his ankle. There was a snap at some point but he couldn’t be sure what it was. Was it the bat? Was it a demogorgon? He remembers feeling determined as he sunk his claws into a demogorgon’s back, his bat into another’s side.

But what he remembers most is the pain. So much pain. Their mouths, their claws, each movement sending fire racing up his spine. How many times did he smack into the walls? Onto the floor? At one point he remembers being thrown upward, into the air. He broke off a camera when he slammed into the glass.

But in the end, Steve won. He smashed his bat down repeatedly against the last demogorgon’s skull. The other two having been torn apart by his claws. He managed to keep his speed in check, his strength a little less so. But it wouldn’t look too suspicious compared to the data their tests collected.

He remembers standing there, struggling to breathe. He knew he didn’t have to but his body was screaming for it. He remembers falling, his body unable to hold itself up any longer. He can remember noise. Was it someone talking? Steve remembers hearing the door creak open. He remembers praying, begging, that it wasn’t another demogorgon. He couldn’t do it again.

But it was just hands, dragging him out of the room. He remembers cracking his eyes open, blood sticky against his lashes. They passed through a room, he vaguely remembers seeing something on the wall. Then a long hallway. Then darkness as he passed out.

---

‘Steve?! Steve, can you hear me?!! STEVE!?’ He hummed gently, his head bouncing as the guards adjusted their grips. -Mm Mddie. Hurts.-

’Steve! Oh thank God! I could hear you panicking, what happened?!’ Steve hummed again, he tried wiggling his fingers. Nothing.

-Hurts. Fight… Fought… Fought demogorgons.-

Silence, until. ‘Demogorgons? Like… Like the prince of darkness? The demon prince?... Steve? Steve?!’

-Shh. Eddie. Loud…. Mm big ugly things… Demogorgons. Good thing… Not dogs. Couldn’t.. Couldn’t let you fight ‘em. Don’ wan’ you ta fight ‘em. Mm ‘k?- He could hear Eddie’s sigh, practically feel his worry. -It’s ‘k Eddie. I’m ‘k. Gone.. Gonna sleep.-

‘Yeah.. Yeah Stevie just.. Just sleep.’ Eddie whispered but it sounded like echo’s in his mind. He was in pain but he felt like floating away. He hummed quietly to himself as he heard what sounded like a door opening. Between one blink and the next he was screaming again.

The guards lifted him, his arms yanking upwards, as he was brought onto a chair. He could feel his wrists and ankles being shackled. When he opened his eyes his vision was spinning. He quickly clamped his eyes shut again.

The pain didn’t dissipate as he heard the door open again. Voices filling the room making the pounding in his head pick back up. -Science… Scientists.- He felt something worrying in the back of his mind. But even his thoughts were spinning. At the first feel of a needle Steve let himself succumb to the darkness pulling at him. He went limp in the chair, unconscious.

---

Someone was singing. ‘And I can’t get enough of you, baby. Can you get enough of me?’ A groan escaped Steve’s lips as he slowly cracked his eyes open. His eyelashes pulling apart, stuck together like glue. ‘Tonight, I wanna see it in your eyes.’ He slowly looked around. He was laying on top of his bed, the blanket thrown half haphazardly over him. ‘Feel the magic, there’s something that drives me-’

-Eddie?- His thoughts felt sluggish. He felt worse than his fight with Billy and the bats combined. ‘Steve? Steve?! Jesus H. Christ man! I thought you were dead! It’s been three days!’ -Mm technically I think we qualify as dead.- He wanted to laugh, but his chest hurt.

‘I.. I mean you’re not wrong?’ Steve thought he could feel Eddie’s amusement, his worry. ‘What happened? You said something about Demogorgon’s. Are you okay? Are you-.’

-Right.- Steve interrupted. -Yeah the kids, they.. They named one of the creatures from the Upside Down a demogorgon. It uh..- He needed to describe it. To make sure Eddie was ready just in case. -It’s real tall. Long limbs with claws that fucking hurt. It doesn’t have a face just a.. Flesh that unwraps almost like flower petals. And teeth. So many teeth. They’re sharp too. And it’s so, so slimy. It’s disgusting, horrifying.- His thoughts, his head, felt clearer the longer he spoke thought with Eddie.

‘That… That sounds… I don’t really have the words right now. How uh.. How many did you fight?’ There was silence between them as Steve tried to think over his fight…. -Four… It started with one. Then a second one came out of nowhere. I killed the first one of them and then uh… Then they brought in two more so it was three against one. I um.. I killed them Eds. I used.. They had my bat, the one with the nails Dustin told you about. And I used my claws. My um… I.. I used my teeth too. Tore into one of their shoulders… Tore them apart.- The silence stretched until Steve added. -I don’t recommend their blood. Tasted disgusting…. Eddie?-

‘.....Can’t be any worse than the bats.’ Eddie admitted in a barely audible voice. Steve didn’t know his thoughts could even be that quiet. ‘I um.. I ran into some of them before leaving the Upside Down…. A couple of the dog versions of what you just described too. I… I was so hungry. I…’

He didn’t continue but Steve understood him just fine. -Demodogs, the kids called them… Eddie. You did what you had to. Okay? You survived, that’s all that matters.-

‘Yeah…’ Eddie whispered. Steve reached up with a loud groan. But not from pain, not completely. Mostly it was from the stiffness his body felt, having not moved in three days. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself. It did very little to fight off the cold, but he needed the comfort.

-...They took me to a lab afterwards. I don’t.. I don’t know what they did… Eddie? Were you.. Were you singing.. Kiss?- He could feel the laugh Eddie let out. ‘Steve. Stevie. Stevie you.. You know Kiss? Since when?!-

He smiled letting his eyes close as he relaxed back against his pillow. -Well.. If I’m being honest. After you died man. I just… I was going through some of your tapes with Wayne and he put it on. He talked about you through the whole thing and just.. I went out and bought one myself. Listened to it a couple of times and I.. Yeah okay. I gotta admit they’re not that bad. Some of their songs at least.-

‘You bought yourself… Stevie.. You just keep on surprising me.’ He hummed again. -I think i’ll keep surprising you for a while yet Munson.-

‘Oh yeah? I look forward to it, Harrington.’ They both laughed, their bond echoing it like feedback. He felt good. Well physically he felt like he was hit by a bus. But they.. They felt good. Even after everything they’ve been through. Despite everything they would go through in the future. They’d be okay. -Yeah Munson… Eddie. So do I.-

Chapter 14: A Journey in the Dark

Summary:

Steve questions his reality.

He was running, why was he running? His heart pounded in his chest, he didn’t dare breathe. The hallway stretched ahead in a blur of flickering lights and stained off grey walls. Each step slammed against the cold floor so hard he thought his knees might give out. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

Behind him, growing louder with every second, came the pounding of feet. Not one set. Not five. Not even ten. There were too many for him to count, and he couldn’t spare a second to try. They were heavy, frantic, relentless. The sound echoed off the narrow walls, amplified and distorted until it felt like the floor itself was shaking.

He didn’t dare look back.

He told himself it would only slow him down, that any second spent glancing over his shoulder was a second closer to being caught. But the truth was so much deeper, so much scarier. He couldn’t think about it. But he was afraid. Terrified even, to see what was there. Afraid that if he did, his legs would freeze, his heart would stutter, and that would be the end of it. The end of him. He would be caught. He’d never escape.

So he couldn’t look back, he had to focus on what was ahead of him. On the far end of the hallway, where the lights grew dimmer and dimmer. Until it was pitch black. On the corner just ahead, sharp and sudden. Maybe it was a turn, maybe an exit. Or maybe it was nothing.

His bare feet slid across the cold floor, it almost sent him careening forward into the ground. But still he ran. He couldn’t stop. The footsteps behind him multiplying, overlapping, thundering. Like a stampede of nightmares. Whoever was chasing him, whatever was chasing him was fast, and close.

And he knew, with certainty, with a finality. That if he stopped, even for a moment. He wouldn’t even have time to scream. His heart came to a stuttering halt, the same as he did at the end of the hallway.

Dead end.

No door. No stairwell. No exit. Just a wall of crumbling concrete, smeared with something dark that hadn’t yet dried. But there’s only one other person who could have come this way. His eyes widened in fear. He knew. His hands slammed against it, useless, desperate. Hopeful that his strength could give it the final push to dissolve. But nothing happened.

Slowly he turned, as if his body knew what his mind refused to think on. That this was it.

The hallway stretched back the way he came, but it wasn’t the same. Long and stretched, distorted and pitch black. The overhead lights had gone out, swallowed up by the creeping shadows. The only ones left untouched were the few nearest to him. They still flickered, weakly. Casting a shallow pool of light around his feet. The shadows crept closer.

And from the black came silence. The footsteps had stopped. No echoes. No breathing. Nothing. As if the black swallowed up the horde.

He stood frozen, chest heaving as if he was out of breath. But he wasn’t breathing at all. Couldn’t spare the energy. Sweat slid down his spine. He strained his ears for any hint of sound, any clue of movement. But the dark held its breath, waiting.

Then suddenly there was an ear piercing shriek.

A wet, slick sound, like joints popping. Or something turning itself inside out. Then another shriek, this one closer.

He took a shaky step back, pressing himself as close to the crumbling wall as possible. His back wet with the smeared mess of the wall.

Something moved.

From the depths of the shadows a shape began to take form the closer it got. Tall. Thin. Unnatural. Its limbs unfolded wrong, like it didn’t understand how to wear a body. The shadows clung to it like a shroud, only breaking when it lifted its head - and the light caught its face.

Or where a face should’ve been.

It had no eyes. No mouth. No human face. Just a raw, blooming maw like a flower of flesh and teeth. Slowly opening with a sickening, wet squelch. It let out a low rattling sound. Half growl, half breath, and it stepped forward revealing its sharp claws.

It lifted a hand to reveal its prize. His heart sped at an unnatural rate. Within its grasp lay….. Eddie.

Eddie who had blood pouring out of his mouth. His eyes closed, head bowed forward. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t moving. But the creature’s claws were pierced through his chest. His sides ripped open in gashes he knew all too well, for they mirrored his own.

He opened his mouth, but no scream came.

The creature, the thing, the demogorgon finally lunged-

And he woke up.

A sharp gasp tore itself from his lungs as he sprang upright, tangled in sweat-damp sheets. The once comforting scratchy blanket now suffocating as he threw it off. His heart thundered against his ribs, wild and unrelenting. As if it hadn’t yet caught onto the fact that he was safe. That it was just a dream. That Eddie was alive.

But as he pressed a trembling hand to his chest, something inside him whispered. It didn’t feel like a dream.

Not entirely.

-Eddie?- He called out into his mind. But there was no response. Not because its intended recipient was gone. Dead at the hands of a demogorgon. But because the connection was not open.

“Just a dream.” He whispered to himself. The room echoing, silent.

Steve slowly got up onto shaky legs and began to strip his bed. He put the sweat-soaked sheets, pillowcase, and blanket in a pile at the door. He got the extras out of his cabinet and made his bed. He just needed something to do, something to distract himself.

-Eddie’s okay. He’s fine. Probably asleep, or bored off his ass. But he’s okay.- He forced himself to take a deep breath in, then forcefully pushed it back out. He could physically feel his heartbeat slow.

He stretched his arms high above his head, letting his back bend and pop. It would be okay. It had to be. It’s been four days since he saw the demogorgon. Since he killed them. How long until they got more? How long until he had to fight ten at once? How long until Eddie had to fight them?

He shook his head, trying to dislodge his thoughts. It wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on it.

‘Harrington? Everything alright?’ He sucked in a breath. Eddie. Eddie was okay. He was awake.

-Yeah. Yeah I.. Just a nightmare… Back to last names, are we Munson? Thought I was ‘Stevie’?- He didn’t need to see Eddie to know he rolled his eyes, probably all the way into the back of his head too.

‘Aww Stevie I didn’t know you cared so much.’ Eddie joked. ‘But you are good though, right? Just a regular nightmare? Not a.. Not a vision? Or.. You’re okay?’

-Tsk.- Now it was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes. -Yeah yeah don’t get your panties in a twist man. I.. I’m fine it was just.. Not a vision or Vecna or anything. Just a regular.. Nightmare. The demogorgon and this shitty place combined. The usual you know?-

‘Yeah.. I know what you mean. You uh.. You just felt panicked and I could feel the pressure again so I thought you know.. I’d check in and maybe you’d hear me. How.. How goes the keycard hunt? Any progress?’

Steve let out a physical groan as he sat back on his bed. -Nope. I.. I might have a plan. Well.. Technically I have at least three plans but.. One of them includes killing a guard but that uh.. That’s probably the absolute last resort.-

’Yeah uh.. Definitely the last resort man. Let’s pocket that one for now. They’d be watching us like a hawk after that. They only just started letting me walk without a muzzle. You don’t need to be wearing it next. What uh. What are the other two plans?’

-Well..- He laid back staring at the ceiling. -It’s… I have to do something.. Something I don’t want to do for the.. For the easiest one. The other is just.. I have to do something stupid.-

‘Something you don’t want to do? And something stupid? Okay well.. Are either of them painful?’

Steve raised his hand over his head, staring at his fingers. -Not physically no but.. Well the second one could be if I do it wrong but.. I definitely won’t be proud of it, either of them.- He turned his hand inspecting his nails. -But these are really our last resorts. I’m not sure how much longer we can wait.- He let his claws extend, his hand shaking unnoticeably. -They brought in demogorgons. I don’t know how many others they have. But if they bring in anything else… Eds I’m not sure how much more they’re going to put us through.-

He could hear the sigh Eddie let out. ‘..Stevie… As long as you’re not going to get hurt. Whatever it is… We can deal with it after. I’ll trust your plans. I trust you.’ Steve withdrew his claws. Is this what girls felt like then he called them? He imagined Eddie twirling a phone cord around his fingers. He smiled to himself.

-Oh..- His claws came out involuntarily this time. -Eds I…- He took a deep breath. -I just.. Yeah. Yeah no. I can do it. I just.. It’ll be okay. We’ll get out of here.- He turned onto his side facing the wall. -Have you been behaving?- He reached over to the wall, letting his claw scrape into the brick.

‘Psh. You know me Stevie. I’m the model prisoner here… But yeah. I still have your sweater. Don’t worry.’ Steve kept scraping at the brick.

-Oh yeah you’re the definition of behavior. Look it up in the dictionary and you’ll find Eddie Munson’s picture right there smack dab in the middle of the page… I’m just glad you’re okay. I don’t care about the sweater.- He rolled back onto his back an X now scratched into the wall by his head. He could feel Eddie’s laughter. It made him smile.

‘Oh that’s good to know! So you won’t be mad at me if I spilled blood down it?’

-You did what?!- He could feel Eddie’s joy. Oh that little shit.

‘I’m… I’m kidding!’ Eddie’s words broke with laughter. ‘Oh I wish I could see your face!’

-Fuck you man!- But he was still smiling. Steve let his claws withdraw. -Hey Eds?- Eddie hummed in response. -You mentioned you know The Fellowship of the Ring by heart.. Could you tell it to me? I… I’m still having a little trouble reading it. But it’s been pretty interesting so far.-

‘Yeah.’ Eddie whispered. Steve felt something warm. It wasn’t like when he locked eyes with Eddie. This was different. But it was nice. ‘You comfortable?’

-Mhm.- He wiggled down into the uncomfortable bed. He folded his hands on top of his stomach. -Ready when you are.-

‘....Chapter one. A Long- Expected Party…. When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly-...’ That’s how they continued on the rest of their night. Eddie retelling the story by heart until their connection dropped. Steve was comfortable. Cozy even on the rock hard mattress. He was somewhere between awake and asleep when the lights clicked on. The camera whirling back into day mode.

He blinded the sleep from his eyes, a lazy smile on his lips. Whatever the day brought, he’d be okay. They’d be okay.

---

The door clicked open not long after breakfast. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Steve glanced over as the door was pulled open. They haven’t bothered him since they brought him to The Pit. And he didn’t feel like getting up today. But it’s not like he had much of a choice. With a deep sigh he pushed himself up, leaning back on his hands.

“Hello boys. And to what do I owe the pleasure?” He joked, grinning all teeth at the two guards.

“Come on monster. Get up.” He huffed rolling off the bed.

“You’re no fun.” He walked over letting them take their positions one in front, one behind him. He could almost hear the guard roll his eyes. “So.. Where are we going today?” No answer. Not that he expected one.

They led him down the hall. -Part one of the plan.. Go.- “Left. Left. Left, right, left.” He sang out laughing at the guards. -They’re so stiff and straight forward. Not the normal guys. New hires? They’re…- He took a subtle breath in. -They’re nervous. Scared even. Hmm.- They walked down the hallway in a tense silence. Though Steve was entirely too relaxed. The only noise coming from the stomp of heavy boots, and the buzzing of the overhead lights.

They stopped. The door looming in front of them. Steve knew what waited behind it. His heart should have raced, but instead it beat steady, defiant, to its own inhuman rhythm. As if saying he still lives. He’s still a person. “Well.” He started, leaning forwards towards the guard. His chin nearly resting on the man's shoulder. “Do we have to give them a secret knock?”

The guard in front of him paused. Just for a second, Steve thought he might ignore him like they have been. But instead the guard turned, slowly. Without a word he whipped the butt of his gun forward. Slamming it square into the center of his forehead. -Shit!.... Finally!- A dull crack echoed through the hall as his head snapped back. Or maybe only he could hear it. He was a monster after all.

Stars briefly danced behind his eyes before his body healed the injury. His knees buckled, he stumbled back, unbalanced. Directly into the chest of the guard behind him. They both grunted as Steve slid down the man’s front, before he fell with a thump against the floor.

Blood ran over his lips, hot and sticky. Trickling from his nose down to his chin in a steady stream. For a moment he sat there, blinking. Then he lifted his head, slowly, deliberately, looking up at the guard who’d struck him.

A grin returned to his face, crimson stained but beaming. With a practiced ease, a deliberate slowness, he dragged his tongue across his lips. Tasting the blood. His gaze traced over the guards armor, then up to his face, pausing just long enough to make it uncomfortable.

“Well.” He let out a small huff of air, amused. “You come here often?”

Silence.

Tight. Charged.

He chuckled, low and bitter. “No? Just me then?”

The guard raised the gun. Steve grinned, wiping the blood before it could drip off his chin. The door pulled open, a woman in a lab coat standing there. “Well. Hurry up then. Get it inside.” She ordered walking back inside. The gun lowered.

-Thirty two seconds.- He counted from the moment they stopped, to the moment the door opened. Thirty two seconds. The last time he counted it was twelve seconds. He could work with that.

He slowly got to his feet. Wiping the blood from his face. The guard grabbed his shoulder pushing him into the lab. He leaned his head back towards the guard. “What, not interested?” He snickered before going quiet at the sight of the metal table. -Shit.. Collection day. That explains the breakfast.-

He took a deep breath, he walked over to the table willingly. No use in fighting back. He stripped off his sweatshirt, folding it, and placing it on the spare metal table. He did the same with his socks and sweatpants. The only thing he was allowed to keep on was his underwear. Most of the time.

He glanced over at the woman in the lab coat. She raised her eyebrow motioning to his underwear. So today wasn’t one of those days then. -That’s fine. It’ll be fine.- He gripped the waistband ‘Steve, you good?’ -Shit.-

He took a breath letting his underwear fall to the floor. -Yeah just.. It’s collection day apparently.- He used his foot to lift up the underwear, he folded it before setting it on top of his clothes. ‘Oh..’ Oh indeed.

-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to connect us, I don’t.. I don’t want you to feel this. To hear this. I’m sorry.- He stared at the metal table, his hands by his sides. One of the scientists pushed the extra table across the room. ‘Steve.. Stevie.. It’ll be okay. Just.. Just breathe through it. Try to.. Try to pass out or.. I’m sorry.’ Steve slowly climbed onto the cold metal table at the scientist's direction.

-Don’t be. It’s not your fault.- ‘Yeah but you’re having a really shitty day already and-’ No. No, none of this was Eddie’s fault. -I’m not… Having a shitty day or. At least I wasn’t until now. Your uh.. You helped. This morning.. Night? And you’re helping now.. Just.. Could you.. Could you maybe tell me the next chapter? Or.. I don’t think I’ll pay much attention so maybe if you’re not busy. Could you start at the beginning?-

‘Yeah.. Yeah Stevie I’m not busy. They’re just taking blood today. I don’t mind at all. But at this rate we’ll never finish the book.’ Eddie tried to joke, it brought a small smile out of Steve. Barely a twitch of his lips. But it was enough for him, it had to be. The scientists started to move around him.

‘Let’s see.. We’ll start at the very beginning… Three rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone…’ Eddie kept talking, only pausing to mumble out some thought or insult in regard to the scientists working around him. Steve zoned out sometime during chapter two. Their connection cut out during chapter three. Not that Steve understood a single word Eddie was saying. But hearing his voice was nice.

---

He came to with his face pressed against the cold floor of his room.

For a long moment Steve just laid there, groggy and unmoving. A dull throb in the base of his skull pulsed weakly, along with his heartbeat. He was faintly breathing but it was shallow, uneven. The floor smelt faintly of dust and whatever chemical cleaner they'd last used. With a low, aching groan, he braced his hands against the ground and slowly pushed himself up. His arms trembling beneath his weight.

At least they had redressed him this time.

His vision swam, the edges of the room blurring into one another until he blinked several times. Slowly forcing it all to come into focus. He noticed the smell before he saw it. Blood. A tray resting on top of his desk.

Another groan left him as he forced himself to his feet. His legs protested with every movement, knees nearly giving out beneath him. Steve caught himself on the edge of his desk. Breathing hard, sweat already breaking across his back. What had they given him? With a final push he stood. Barely.

His eyes drifted to the tray, they immediately narrowed in disgust. He must have upset them again.

Strips of meat sat in a congealed pile, barely seared, the edges curled and still tinged red. Whatever it was, it looked more scavenged than cooked. Besides it sat a glob of grey. Lukewarm and lumpy. He still wasn’t sure if it was some type of oatmeal, or a pudding gone bad. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. The only half appealing food on there was the uncooked carrots and broccoli, chopped clumsily, tossed onto the tray like an afterthought.

Steve let out a soft, annoyed huff. A grim smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. Yeah, he knew exactly who was working in the kitchen today. The only good thing about the tray was the still warm bag of human blood leaning on the edge. He picked it up cautiously. It smelt fine. Fresh.

With shaky hands he ripped the top open. Each mouthful was a new kind of bliss he didn’t have the words for. -At least I didn’t tear my throat this time.- He smiled at the thought. When he finished he put the empty bag back onto the desk, staring at the tray. -Best to get it over with.-

With a deep sigh he pulled out the uncomfortable chain, sinking into it. -Uncomfortable. Just like everything else here.- His stomach turned at the smell, so he stopped breathing. He picked up his fork, poking at the grey mush watching it jiggle. -Like it has a mind of its… Well now I’m thinking of the Upside Down. Great.. Even more unappetizing.- He grimaced.

“Bon appétit.” He muttered, bitterly, to no one. He licked over his teeth to savor the last remnants of blood before he shoveled a small bite into his mouth.

It was worse than it looked. Bland with a texture of wet sand. The metallic aftertaste wasn’t unwelcome. But it wasn’t pleasant. He winces as he swallowed, chasing the taste with a bite of the so-called meat. Chewing took effort he barely had the energy for. Swallowing had him wanting to gag. The raw vegetables crunched in between his teeth like he was biting into sticks. -Was it always this bad? Or have I just gotten used to the good food they started serving?-

He chewed anyway. Forcing it down. Because no one was going to starve him into submission. Not again. Not today.

And especially not with this crap

He was halfway through forcing down another bite of the nearly raw meat when a noise outside his door made him freeze.

Clack.

Usually the guards were silent. That or he had drowned out the noise they made long ago. But this was different. This was.. A boot? Sharp and close. Too deliberate to be casual. Then another. The soft whir of a radio buzzed faintly through the thick door, followed by a low murmur. Was that.. Someone speaking? The words were muffled too much for even his enhanced hearing to pick up.

Steve straightened instinctively, his shoulders stiffening as he set the fork down with a quiet clink against the tray. It reverberated through his head. Echoed like thunder. His heart had stopped as he strained his ears to listen.

More footsteps. Whoever it was wasn’t just passing by.

There was a brief metallic rattle at the lock. Not opening, just testing it.

Steve stared at the door, blood rushing to his ears. His tongue was thick with the taste of iron and sand, his stomach coiling tighter with each passing second. There were loud puffs of breath coming from outside the door. Like someone breathing, except it was wrong.

Then.. Silence.

Whoever was out there had stopped moving.

Steve leaned forward slightly, eyes fixed on the door. Ears straining. Listening. Waiting.

And then- knock knock.

Two, slow, deliberate raps. Just the once. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His heartbeat was still.

The silence on the other side stretched just long enough to feel wrong. Just long enough to let his pulse start again, hammering against his ribcage.

Then came the voice. Low. Dry. Almost amused.

“Sleep well, Harrington.”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His body had gone rigid, locked in place like something had taken a hold of him. His hands sat motionless on either side of the tray, claws out. Fingers curled slightly into the desk. The taste of the food still lingered on his tongue, but it felt like it belonged to someone else now. Distant, meaningless.

He stared at the door. None of the guards had ever spoken to him like this before. The voice was too calm. Too casual. The kind of voice that didn’t need to shout, because it had nothing to prove. Steve’s breath was still caught in his chest. Held tight. Like if he stayed perfectly still, maybe it would go away. Maybe they would. He couldn’t even think. Couldn’t even call for… Who would he call? Eddie? Eddie who was probably passed out from whatever they did to him today.

The silence returned. It dragged on like a loose thread being pulled, never ending.

Then, finally. Footsteps.

One step. Two. Fading away.

Whoever it was walked away slowly, deliberately. Like they wanted him to hear each step vanish down the hall. Still. Steve didn’t move.

Only when the silence seemed to swallow him whole, threatening never to spit him back out did he allow his lungs to take in air. Stuttering, pulling in air that felt too thin, sharp. He blinked, realizing his vision had started to blur. But not from sleep or dizziness this time. But from the simple fact that he hasn’t moved. Hasn’t even blinked in his panic. His heart still hasn’t slowed.

The fork sat untouched beside him. The food forgotten.

He couldn’t stop staring at the door. Unmoving. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. His tongue like sandpaper in his mouth. Something brushed against the edge of his thoughts, unwelcome but impossible to ignore.

Did they want something? Did they leave something? Or was this just a warning? A threat?

His eyes flickered briefly towards the base of the door, toward the thin crack of barely there dim light. Nothing moved. No shadow, no shape. But the thought itched at him. What if there’s something waiting? What if they wanted him to come check? To let his guard down?

Still, he didn’t move. He couldn’t move.

His limbs had gone stiff, cemented by fear and something deeper. Something cold that started at the base of his spine. Building and spreading outward. He could feel the weight of it now sitting heavy upon him.

What did they want?

The question came like a whisper at first. Then repeated. Louder. Faster.

What did they want?
Why did they come to the door?
Why didn’t they open it?
What did they want?
What did they want?
What did they want?

His breathing quickened, sharp and shallow. The edges of the room starting to blur. Warping in and out of focus as though the walls were pulsing. The air felt thinner. He couldn’t get it in. Couldn’t get enough. His hands were shaking now, fingers twitching beside the tray. Claws now fully digging into the desk. His chest heaved once, twice, like it was fighting itself.

His thoughts spiraled faster than he could catch them.

What did they want? What did they want? What did they want?

Something clawed its way up his throat. Panic. Sharp and biting. His skin buzzed with it, burned with it. Something in his head was screaming. He felt like he was outside his body, watching himself fall apart in slow motion.

Steve pushed backwards, the chair screeching harshly against the floor. He curled forward in the chair, elbows braced on his knees, head bowing towards his chest. His hands tangled in his hair, claws biting into his scalp. He gripped, hard. As if the pressure and pain could anchor him. His breaths came in quick and broken. A stuttering rhythm he couldn’t slow.

Something was screaming. Someone was screaming. Was it him? No. No, it.. ‘You’re okay! I promise sweetheart you’re okay! I can’t do this without you! Please…’ A quiet whisper, but still shouting, echoing in his head continued. ‘Please Steve…. Please.’ Eddie. It was Eddie. His panic called out, reaching like a desperate hand. Calling for Eddie. ‘Please Steve. Just.. Just take a deep breath. Please.. I need you to get through this. I can’t..’ Quiter. An admission he had been scared to share. His breath catching. ‘I can’t.. Can’t lose you too.’

It was like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over him. He gasped in a deep breath of the air his body thought it needed. How long has he been sitting like this? He let his hands fall from his hair, his claws lightly tinted with blood. He sat up, slowly. His back protesting. -Eddie?- He thought he could feel the gasp the other let out. Could feel the relief in his voice.

‘Steve! Oh thank fuck! What happened?! Are you okay?!’ The air came a little easier. His heartbeat, though still fast, stopped trying to punch through his ribs. -Eddie..- Steve echoed again. He knew his thoughts sounded like he was going to cry, because he felt like it. He conveyed so much emotion through just one word. One name.

He took another deep breath. The fear still lingering. But it always did. But for now he was breathing. And the door stayed shut. -Eddie… My Eddie.- His thoughts were whisper quiet now. His eyes felt heavy. The panic leaving him bone tired.

He swallowed heavily. ‘Steve… Stevie.. Are you okay?’ A calm, cautious question. Steve slowly pushed himself from his desk. He stopped himself from looking at the door. He couldn’t.

-Mm. I don’t know? I… I’m not hurt? Just.. Sorry.- He shakily walked over to his bed. If he thought he was hurt before, it was a hundred times worse now. He thought his body might shut down. ‘Don’t…. Don’t you say sorry. Never for that. Do you understand me? Don’t.’ An unsure smile came to his face as he climbed into his bed. -Eddie sounded so sure… Firm. He knows. It’s gonna.. Gonna be okay.-

He curled up on top of his bed. ‘..Of course I do Stevie.’ Had he accidentally said it to Eddie? Huh. ‘I know these things. You’re gonna be okay. Just.. It’s gonna be lights out soon. Get some rest okay?’ He closed his eyes, his heart still beating faster than normal. -Mm ‘k.-

His thoughts came slower. He could hear Eddie speaking but he wasn’t comprehending. Was that all just an illusion? A hallucination?.. No it couldn’t have been….. Could it?

Notes:

Not Eddie calling Steve sweetheart and Steve being too panicked to notice.

Chapter 15: What Is Reality?

Summary:

How much more can Steve take?

There was humming.

Soft and low, drifting from somewhere behind him, threading through the heavy warmth of the late afternoon. Steve sat on the front steps, leaning back onto his hands, fingers splayed across the sun-warmed wood. Eyes closed. The air smelt faintly of fresh paint and summer dust.

He tilted his head back, listening. A familiar tune rose gently in the breeze.

“Is that… The Beach Boys?” He asked, cracking his eyes open, squinting into the golden light.

Behind him came a chuckle, rough and warm, followed by the creak of a screen door swinging open. Footsteps passed across the porch boards, getting closer.

“Sure is, son. Sure is.” A hand appeared over his shoulder. Tanned and steady, two sweating beers hooked between thick fingers.

Steve looked up, smiling as he reached for one. Wayne stood above him, squinting into the sun with that easy, unreadable look he always wore. He uttered a quiet thanks as he took one of the bottles, the cold glass biting against his warm skin.

“You’ve got a metalhead living here.” Steve said, using one of his claws to pop the cap off. “And you’re out here humming Good Vibrations? Thought it’d be more… Master of Puppets.”

Wayne barked out a laugh, deep and genuine as he tapped his bottle against Steve’s with a soft clink.

“Just ‘cause Eds is into that loud headbanging stuff. Doesn’t mean I have to be.” He said, settling in beside him on the steps. “Besides… I got this one off the tape you left in my truck.” Wayne held out his bottle towards Steve.

Steve’s lips parted in surprise. “Oh.” He replied, the sound small. That caught him off-guard. He doesn’t remember having put it on any of his tapes. He reached over, using his claw to open Wayne’s bottle as well.

They both took a sip, the beer icy and sharp against the lazy heat. It went down easy, the kind of easy you only got when the work was done and the sun was low.

The porch rails gleamed freshly white around them, their brushwork still drying in the fading light. It had taken the better part of the day. They’d put off the task for too long, first from laziness. Then from the punishing heatwave that had driven most of the state indoors, clinging to the relief of air conditioning.

But today, the breeze had returned. And with it, a quiet peace.

For a moment, everything stilled- it was perfect. Wayne quietly humming, the fading scent of paint, the weight of the day carried easily between two cold beers and the warmth of company. He thought of only one thing that could make it better.

As if on cue, the distant sound of a rumbling engine broke through the peace. Steve glanced up towards the long dirt path between the trees, just as headlights creeped over the hill. A familiar beat up pickup rolled into view. Wayne’s truck, dented and dusty with the dirt that seemed to cling to everything. Looking a little less miserable than usual.

Behind the wheel, hair wild and curls catching in the sun, Steve could see Eddie. Grinning like a madman. His head bobbing along to whatever he was listening to.

The truck pulled up in front of the house, the engine coughing as it settled into park. Even with the windows rolled up, the music still bled through, Master of Puppets playing as clear as day. Steve could see Eddie drumming against the steering wheel in time with the beast, just before he threw open the door and hopped out. Both feet landing on the dirt with his usual barely contained energy.

“Well well well if it isn’t my two favorite porch gremlins! Like an old married couple waiting for their little Eddie to come home!” He called out, twirling around, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Wayne lifted his beer in a silent greeting, ignoring the fact he’s told him a hundred times not to slam the door. But Steve was already rising before Eddie’s feet hit the ground, a smile lighting up his face.

Eddie bounced up the rest of the dirt path in three long strides. He didn’t slow as he got closer, catching Steve’s hand in his, bringing them into a spontaneous spin that sent them both briefly off balance.

Steve laughed, caught off guard. But it shouldn’t have been unexpected.

Before he could recover, Eddie spun him to face Wayne, pulling Steve in tight against him. His arms winding around his hips, chin hooking over his shoulder. He turned his head slightly, placing a kiss on Steve’s cheek.

“Missed you, sweetheart.” Eddie murmured, voice becoming muffled in the crook of Steve’s neck. The hug lingering just long enough to make Steve’s heart pick up, just a little.

He closed his eyes for a breath, grounding himself in the others warmth. The smell of motor oil, weed, and something unmistakably Eddie surrounding him.

Wayne let out a quiet snort from his seat on the steps. Not mocking, just amused. “Truck’s fixed I take it?”

“Running like a dream.” Eddie said. Still grinning as he pulled back, but didn’t fully let go. Leaving an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist. “You should hear the stereo now. Sounds like angels. Loud, screaming, slightly stoned angels.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t waver. He didn’t say it but the truth was- he was glad Eddie took the truck out today. He needed the time with Wayne.

But having him back was like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place, and he felt complete.

‘Steve.’ He hummed in response as he leaned in, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. He could stay like this forever.

‘Steve.’ He hummed again, eyes fluttering shut. The sun warm against their backs. The sound of Wayne beginning to hum again filling his ears. Everything felt safe here.

‘Steve.’ Eddie said again, a little louder. A little more frantic. Steve’s brow furrowed, just slightly. He didn’t understand why Eddie sounded like that. It was too nice out to ruin the moment. It better be-

‘Steve. Steve, you need to wake up.’ Eddie said- firm now. Urgent.

He could feel the warmth beginning to fade. The humming becoming distorted. The light dimming around the edges. “Wake up?” He mumbled, his mouth felt heavy, wrong.

‘STEVE!’ It was a shout- raw and desperate- and it cut through the dream like glass shattering.

His eyes flew open. The ceiling above him was concrete and cracked, not a setting sun. The hum of the annoying fluorescent lights harsh in his ears, unlike the quiet humming from Wayne. His chest heaved as he sucked in a breath, sharp and shallow. Sweat clung to his skin, cold now. The ghost of that sun drenched porch vanished in an instant, ripped away by the present.

By reality.

He blinked slowly, his heart hammering. The echo of Eddie’s voice still ringing in his head. He looked around. But the room was empty.

And he was alone.

He blinked.

Slow.

Like his body had forgotten how.

The edges of the dream clung to him like fog, sticky and strange. The sun warmed porch, Eddie’s arms, Wayne- it all felt too real. But just barely out of reach, like he could still smell the summer air if he tried hard enough. But the longer his eyes stayed open, the more that warmth peeled away, replaced by something colder. Sharper.

He wanted to move. To sit up. To find Eddie. But his limbs weren’t cooperating. No.. That’s not right. He couldn’t feel them.

His eyes flicked downward, or tried to. His body felt heavy, like it was filled with wet sand. Unwilling. Disconnected. His vision swam when he looked down, before slowly coming back into focus.

With more effort than he should have needed, he craned his neck, a dull ache rippling down the base of his skull. The room was too sterile. Too still. Where was-.. He noticed the straps.

Thick restraints held his wrists down at his sides, tight, made of an unyielding metal. His ankles were held down by the same restraints, fastened to the corners of the metal table that he was on top of. The hard surface pressing into his spine, hard and unforgiving. His skin prickled with sweat despite the chill in the air.

A line ran down his right arm, a needle. Connected to an IV drip suspended above him. The slow drip drip of whatever was inside echoed in his skull. He began to feel the heavy pressure on his chest, the one he knew meant panic. Where is he? What’s going on?

His breath was caught in his lungs. It screamed to be let out, though he knew it was unnecessary. His eyes darted across the dimly lit room, it spinning momentarily. When the room came back into focus he noticed he was cast in a washed out orange glow from a single flickering bulb directly above him.

He could see cabinets lining one wall. Industrial, locked. A metal sink. And a drain in the center of the floor, in the middle of the room. It wasn’t far from where he lay… There was one door and no windows.

And no one else.

Not yet.

‘STEVE!’ The scream cracked through the silence like a whip, loud and sudden.

He flinched back, hard. Head snapping back against the table with a hollow thud. His vision swam. Stars danced behind his eyes. His healing not yet chasing them away.

His lips heavy, dry, parted as if to respond. Was that…? He blinked slowly, trying to force his thoughts to take shape. Everything in his mind was cotton and static. -’Ddie?... ‘Ere?- The words didn’t come out. Not really.

His thoughts were sluggish, slipping through his fingers like water. He tried again, tried to call out this time. But his throat was dry, his tongue thick. All he managed was a raspy breath. Barely a whisper.

But the voice hadn’t sounded like a dream this time.

It hadn’t been warm or laughing or soft like his Eddie.

It had been scared.

Which meant…

Maybe it was real.

But if it was real… That meant Eddie was here.

Eddie was here. Somewhere in this place, but Steve didn’t know what this place was. Couldn’t see him. Couldn’t turn his head to look. Couldn’t move, no matter how badly every part of him screamed to get up. To go. To find him. Find Eddie.

He strained against the numb weight of his limbs, panic blooming hotter under his ribs. But nothing responded. His body feeling too far away, muted and useless.

Still, he had to try. He had to find Eddie.

Then a voice, softer now. Gentle in a way that scraped something raw inside him. ‘Steve. Steve, it’s okay. You’re okay. You were just dreaming you were-.’

-’Ddie? W-Whe’... ‘re you?- The words slurred out tangled in cotton, useless through the static in his head. Silence. Did he say it out loud? Did Eddie hear him? His eyes roamed around, slowly. But it was just the same water stained, cracked ceiling. The quiet drip of the IV. The soft flow of the stale air moving through the vents overhead. Then-

‘I’m in my room. I’m okay. I’ve been here all day. Where… Where are you? You don’t.. You don’t sound so good Stevie.’ Steve blinked again, slow and heavy. But a small, sleepy smile curved at his lips. He started humming- soft and off key- to the last song he remembers. Good Vibrations.

‘Steve?’

-Mm. ‘M ‘ere… S’eepy.- ‘Yeah…’ Came Eddie’s immediate worried answer. ‘Yeah, I bet you are sweetheart. But where are you?’

He hummed again, his smile tugging wider, he felt warm. Hazy. -Mm… Lab. Don’ Don’ know. Ne’er been ‘ere ‘fore.- His eyelids drooped. Each blink came slower, longer. The kind of tired that didn’t end in sleep. But in nothing. The kind that scared him more than any pain ever could, though he didn’t want to admit that to himself. Could barely even think it.

-Am… Gon’... ‘Ddie?-

‘Are you going to?... What?.. Die?!’ Silence.

Then a sharp sound. Wet, broken.

A quiet sob.

‘No Steve! No, absolutely fucking not! If you-’ Eddie’s voice cracked. He sounded frantic now, terrified. ‘If you fucking die, I’ll-’

-Don’ fee’ goo’.- The words barely made it out. His thoughts felt too heavy. Like the last of him was being drained away with each drip from the IV.

‘Dont! Don’t you fucking dare Harrington! I’ll.. I’ll.. I’ll spill blood all over your sweater, I swear it!’

-Mm… ‘Evie.- The correction tried to make it through the thickness in his mind. But it came off too soft, too slurred. Was he accidentally talking out loud? Or was this all in his head? His eyes slipped closed. And this time they didn’t open.

‘HARRINGTON!’

A scream.

Then-

A gasp.

Like breaking the surface after sinking too deep. Like a drowning man sucking down air. His lungs seized as air rushed in with a choking sob. His whole body jolted beneath hands as if trying to get away. Real. Warm, hands. Cupping his face like he was something precious. Grounding him.

”Hey! Hey. Look at me. Come on, that’s it. Eyes on me Stevie. Come on. Just. Just look at me.” Eddie’s voice. Eddie’s face. Close and pale, and wide eyed. Pupils blown, mouth trembling like he’d been a breath away from crying. His hands were trembling too, thumbs brushing Steve’s cheeks like he was afraid he might disappear if he let go.

Steve blinked, dazed and shivering. His heart pounding hard enough it felt like it would crack his ribs. Where was he? What was..? Was he kneeling on a floor?

Was it all a dream? A dream inside of a dream?

What’s going on? What’s happening?

But Eddie was here. And his hands were warm.

And for now… That was enough.

Steve’s mouth opened. But no sound came out.

His throat burned. His lips were cracked, tongue heavy like it didn’t quite belong to him. He blinked up at Eddie, trying to focus. Trying to hold onto the face in front of him before it faded like everything else had. His body felt like it had been dredged up from the bottom of the ocean. Sodden and slow. Every movement dragged through with an invisible weight.

He tried again.

“E-” It barely came out, just a scratch of breath. But Eddie leaned in like it had been a full sentence.

“I’m here.” Eddie whispered, voice shaking. Maybe he had been crying. “I got you. You’re okay. You’re here. You’re s-.. You’re okay.” Did he want to say safe? But he couldn’t. Because they weren’t safe. Not here. Never here.

Steve blinked, hard. A tear sliding sideways with the way his head was tilted. Staring up at Eddie. His fingers twitched, the faintest movement, like his body was trying to catch up with the need to move. His lips parted, slowly. Trying to force the words out.

“Wuh..Wh’...?” The syllables crack in his throat. Weak. Broken. Eddie’s hands were still cradling his face, gentle but firm. Like if he let go Steve might disappear forever. His eyes shined, red rimmed, desperate.

“We’re in your not gym.” Eddie said quietly, so the cameras couldn’t pick up their conversation. He let out a quiet huff at the name. “They… I don’t know much. I just.. They brought me in here and then I.. I don’t know how long I waited but then they.. They dragged you in here. But you’re awake now. You’re okay. You came back.”

Steve frowned. Or tried to. His brow twitched, trying to move.

“D’eam.” He mumbled.

Eddie nodded, his eyes closing briefly. But they returned to his face. Scared that if he looked away too long Steve would vanish. “Yeah. Yeah, you were dreaming. Mumbling too. Scared the shit out of me Harrington.. Steve. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense.” His thumb brushed away the stray tear on Steve’s cheek.

Steve licked over his lips, slow and clumsy. Like he had to relearn how to use his tongue. “Said… Your name?”

“You did.” Eddie answered, with a broken laugh. “Over and over.”

Steven blinked again, it was taking less effort now. “Was… It real?”

Eddie stilled. Then leaned in closer, resting his forehead gently against Steve’s. “I don’t know.” He whispered. “But you said my name like it meant something. And that was real enough for me.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered, heavy again. He wanted to think more on that, but the thoughts slipped past him, like there was a gaping hole where his brain should be. His lips curved, just slightly. He felt as if the weight of the world was held off him for just a moment. It was just the two of them.

Eddie didn’t move. He stayed there, forehead resting against Steve’s. Eyes shutting tight like he was holding something back. Like if he let go of this moment, Steve might vanish all over again.

“Called me in.” Eddie finally admitted, the words barely a breath. “I don’t know how else to explain it. I could feel..” He ran his thumb over Steve’s cheek, just to check he was still there. “One second I was laying on my bed. The next… I could feel something. Cold. I felt.. I could feel it going into your arm. I felt your mind slipping. Like… Like you weren’t gonna come back.”

Steve stared up at him, barely blinking. His limbs still felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. But his eyes were steady now. He could focus. Focus on Eddie.

“I felt.. How relaxed you were.” Eddie went on, voice hollow now. “In the dream like.. Like nothing was wrong. I-I couldn’t hear your thoughts, not really. But I felt the way your fear disappeared. Like something had you wrapped up tight, whispering lies to keep you still. Like… It’s like you were caught by Vecna. I was.. I was terrified.”

He paused, knuckles going white against Steve’s jaw. He quickly eased off, breath trembling. Like he needed to know Steve was here. Steve was real.

“I heard Wayne.” Eddie admitted after a moment of silence, barely audible. “Just.. Just for a second. I don’t know if it was real. Was it.. A memory?” He ran his thumbs gently over Steve’s cheeks. “I couldn’t see it. I just.. I heard his voice.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered. Not from sleep, but from the effort of holding focus. He hadn’t even felt Eddie’s grip. Just his gentle caress. He gathered what little strength he had, and after a moment of dragging effort. Lifted his hand. It shook slightly as it rose, but he let it rest gently, heavily, against Eddie’s forearm. His fingers didn’t grip, he didn’t have the strength. But it was enough to say I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

His voice was a thread, frayed and dry. “Was… Was a dream.” He whispered, his voice feeling like sandpaper. “Just… A good.. A good dream.”

Eddie let out a breath that stuttered halfway through. Like his body was remembering it was possible to breathe. “Yeah?” He asked. “Did it… Feel like Wayne?”

Steve blinked, slowly. His face unreadable as he thought it over. Then a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Beer was cold… Porch was painted. He… He laughed.”

Eddie’s throat bobbed, his mouth parted slightly. Like he wanted to say something, but no words came. ‘A good dream.. Maybe the last kind of safe place left for us. But..’ Eddie had a brief look of fear on his face. ‘Whatever Steve had seen it.. It hadn’t come from nowhere. Something.. Something in the IV, what was in the IV? Something that had let him drift that far from reality. And if.. If I hadn’t heard Steve calling me.. Would he ever have woken up? Or would he.. Would he be..’

Eddie sat back slightly, not yet out of reach. Gaze flittering over Steve’s face. Making sure he was real. He was alive. Making sure he was here. ‘Too close. Way too close.’ Eddie wasn’t aware he was still broadcasting his thoughts. But it didn’t matter to Steve. He could hardly focus on it. Just Eddie’s face. Just Eddie.

“We need to get out of here. I don’t care if I have to carry you through the vents like some damn koala.” Steve huffed out a breath that may have been a laugh. Or just exhaustion. Either way he didn’t move his hand from Eddie’s arm.

Not yet.

It laid there heavy, barely responsive, but deliberate. It was the only part of him he could move with any certainty, and even that took effort. But the contact was grounding. Warm. Real. He could feel Eddie’s skin twitching. Could feel that he too has a pulse right now. Quick and anxious.

And then suddenly, it was gone. Eddie pulled back.

Not far. Just enough.

Steve’s brow twitched in confusion as the distance grew between them. He blinked slowly, the motion still sluggish. Still too hard a task. Eddie’s hands hovered, unsure now. No longer cupping his face with that quiet desperation. Did he do something?

“Sorry.” Eddie muttered, voice awkward, low. “Didn’t mean to uh.. To crowd you.”

Steve wanted to say something. Anything. He hadn’t minded. He hadn’t even noticed how close they were until Eddie backed off, and now the space felt cold. Hollow even. Empty in a way that had nothing to do with the growing silence.

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking away like he’d been caught staring. His whole body seemed to fidget, like he didn’t know what to do with anyone. He pulled a strand of hair in front of his mouth, nervous.

Steve’s hand, now free of Eddie’s arm. Slipped clumsily back down. Resting by his side. He slowly licked over his dry lips. “Y’weren’t.” He mumbled. The words barely more than a breath.

Eddie froze. The quiet settled over them again, dense. Delicate.

Steve closed his eyes. Not out of weakness. But out of something like relief. Something soft. His body still ached, heavy and half numb, but he wasn’t falling anymore. The panic had ebbed, if only for now.

Eddie didn’t move for a second. Then Steve felt his hands, steady now. Focused. They took his arms gently, lifting them as if he was inspecting them. He watched Eddie, not as intensely as before. But he still watched as he turned Steve’s arms inspecting where the needle, or needles apparently went in. “Three.” Eddie answered a question he didn’t even know he had. “Three injection sites. Steve I.. I have no idea what they gave you. They’ve never.. I’ve never had it before.”

Their eyes met. He felt the ice bath feeling wash over him once more. Eddie’s panic. Could Eddie feel his? “I..” He licked over his lips again. “I don’t know either.” He whispered, terrified.

Chapter 16: A Knife in the Dark

Summary:

Steve is traumatized.
Eddie has a plan.
We all hate Brenner.

Notes:

Yes, some of these chapter titles are taken from The Fellowship of the Ring. They're very fitting. Especially some of their chapter summaries. :)

The silence stretched, taunt and fragile.

Then Eddie shifted back, putting more space between them. Not much, but enough that Steve felt the loss again, dull and somewhere deep in his chest. Eddie leaned back against the wall, arms draped loosely over his drawn up knees. His attempt at casual. But Steve could tell he was trying not to shrink in on himself.

“I um…” Eddie rubbed at his jaw, his gaze falling somewhere on the floor between them. “I didn’t want to crowd you again.” He added when the silence stretched too long. Steve’s head rolled slightly toward him, more from gravity than control.

“Y’didn’t.” He murmured, but Eddie just nodded like he didn’t hear, or didn’t believe him. He isn’t entirely sure.

It took him a few minutes but he managed to get his body to cooperate enough to slide over to the wall. He leaned heavily against it. They sat like that for a while. The room quiet. Not the type of quiet that meant they were safe. But the kind of quiet that pressed in at the edges. That made you feel claustrophobic.

Steve’s body still felt like stone, but the fog in his mind was slowly beginning to thin out. Just enough for fear to come creeping back in, stronger this time. He weakly shifted, his back pressing harder against the wall, a dry swallow catching in his throat. “We can’t.. We can’t continue on like this.” He broke the silence. Just quiet enough so the camera couldn’t pick it up.

Eddie nodded, slowly. His eyes still fixed between them. “No… No, we really can’t.” He glanced briefly at Steve before looking away again. Like he was checking to make sure he was still there. “They almost killed you…”

Silence. He wasn’t sure how to respond, how to ease either of their panic.

He tilted his head back against the wall, the movement sent the room spinning. He blinked, slowly, at the dirty water-stained ceiling. “...They almost killed me.” He finally admitted. “But they brought you in here….. To take care of me after.” He let his eyes roam over to Eddie, who sat still. Silent. “But.. They didn’t drug you. They didn’t know you’d be able to save me either…”

Steve glanced down at his hands, they were shaking. “They.. They were going to just bring my body to you.. Weren’t they?”

Eddie let out a shaky breath. “I.. I think so.. Yeah. Guess.. Guess they didn’t plan on us being tuned into each other’s brain radio.”

Steve almost smiled. Almost.

“They’re going to come back.” Eddie continued, even quieter than before. “They’ll let us rest for a day or two but… Whoever it is. The guards, Brenner, the scientists.. The assholes in their white coats. I dunno. But they’ll be back to take us to another lab. Another test, another experiment. And then… They’ll… They’ll do something else to one of us.” ‘To you.’ Was left unsaid, heavy in the air. “And I.. I don’t want to be here when they do.”

A long pause. Heavy between them.

Steve looked over at Eddie. Stared. Like he was trying to memorize every twitch, every hair, everything about Eddie. “We still need a keycard to even think about.. Escaping.”

Eddie. Finally, looked at him. “Yeah.. A keycard, a map, maybe a miracle or two.”

“A bathroom break and a cheeseburger.” Steve added in, it made Eddie huff out a breath of something close to a laugh, but not quite.

“Yeah. That too.” Eddie glanced down, fiddling with a loose thread on. -Oh.- Steve’s sweater. “I’ve seen one on the guard who brings me food. The others usually have it hidden on them but he uh.. Black vest guy? He.. The only one who doesn’t wear long sleeves. He keeps it on his left his, clipped to his belt.”

Steve hummed. Blinking slowly. “Could grab it.”

“Could try to, yeah. But if we miss or he realizes it’s gone before we can get out.. If we screw it up-”

“We’re dead.” Steve finished, voice flat. Eddie nodded grimly.

“I don’t even know if I can stand yet. Or how long I’ll feel like this. Let alone whatever side effects this might have.” Steve admitted, his voice cracking. He felt raw. “Feels like… I’ve fallen into wet cement and I’m trying to walk out of it. But it’s too thick.”

Eddie’s expression softened, he shifted slightly. Almost like he wanted to move closer, but he didn’t. He stayed where he was, fingers worrying at the thread. “Then we don’t do anything yet. Not until you’re okay. Not until we’re both ready. We.. They’ll give us some time.”

He let himself just look over Eddie. Eddie staring right back.

“Are you scared?” Steve asked, after a long breath of silence.

Eddie stayed quiet for a minute longer. Then he nodded, just a barely there movement of his head. “Yeah. I’m scared shitless man.”

Steve blinked, slow. His eyelids felt heavy. He was exhausted. “Yeah… Me too.”

Eddie leaned back, letting his head thump against the wall. His eyes flicking towards the heavy doors, then back to Steve. “But we’re getting out. I don’t care how. I don’t care when. I don’t care if we have to crawl through vents or.. Or through a sewer. Through shit. We’re getting out of this place. And I’m not leaving without you.”

That was enough to finally break through the gloom. He gave Eddie a small, tired smile. His eyes slipping closed, too tired to keep open. “‘Kay.” He whispered, voice barely there. “‘Cause I’m not leavin’ you either.” Eddie didn’t say anything. He just nodded, but Steve didn’t see it.

And for a while they just sat there in silence. Steve half asleep. Their backs against the hard wall. Terrified. Half broken. But not alone.

They’d get out of here.

Together.

---

His eyes cracked open, eyelashes stiff and caked together from too much sleep. Everything felt heavy- his limbs, his chest, his head. A dragging kind of weight that made it hard to remember how to move. Or his own name. He blinked once, twice, slowly as he tried to focus. How long has he been asleep this time?

He braced himself for the pain as he pushed himself upright. A groan echoing through the room. Every muscle felt used and wrung out, like he’d been running from demogorgons in his sleep again. Except this time more of a physical pain. He let his eyes flit around the room, slowly. The same four walls. The same annoying buzzing lights. But something felt.. Off. Different in a way he couldn’t yet place. He hesitated for a moment. -Is this…. Real?-

Steve let his eyes slip shut as he tried to focus. He felt around, not with his hands, but somewhere deep inside himself. Somewhere inside that always hummed when active. He could feel a worry that wasn’t his own. -Got’cha.- He focused on broadcasting, hoping he finally figured out how to use their connection. -Eddie?- He asked cautiously, unsure.

Silence. Until a sudden cold jolt of panic began crawling up his spine. ‘Steve?! Are you okay?’ He shivered at the cold feeling that he knew all too well now. Eddie’s fear. Now raw and loud, similar to its owner. Too big to fit inside a single person. It wrapped around his ribs and pulled tight. He sucked in a sharp breath.

-Mm. Yeah… Tired. In a bit of pain if I’m being honest. But I’m okay.- He weakly rolled his head, trying to lose some of the stiffness, ease some of the pain. The movement felt sluggish, like he moved seconds after he originally meant to. -How long was I out?- Silence, too long to be comfortable.

‘Four days.’ Eddie finally answered. His voice sounded.. Steve couldn’t place it. ‘I… They wouldn’t.. When they came in to take you I tried.. I really tried. I.. They wouldn’t tell me what they did to you. Just.. Just said you needed time… They almost kill you and all you need is time!?’ He sounded panicked now. It was strong enough to cause his own gut to twist with it.

He took a deep breath, letting it all sink in. Four days. He hadn’t even dreamed. Just.. Nothing. -I felt like I was dying… I think I was.’ He admitted. And it scared him. Whatever it was they did to him, he knew if they did it again he wouldn’t wake up next time.

‘I know.’ Eddie cut through his fear. Prevented his panic. His voice was barely a whisper in his head. ‘I felt it too.’

Steve dropped his head heavily into his hands, dragging his palms down his face. He felt disgusting. Days old sweat and grime clinging to him. He could smell old fear clinging to new. He felt exhausted all the way down to his bones. And he hurt. He was in so much pain, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. -Are you in your room?-

‘Yeah.’

-Okay.. Good.- Neither of them said anything for a moment. The quiet buzzed between them. But he could still feel Eddie. Could still feel the hint of panic, the hint of fear they both shared between their bond.

Cautiously Steve broke the silence. -Any progress?-

A quiet hum before Eddie sighed. ‘Sort of. I’ve uh.. Been watching them. They took me out of my room a few times so I noticed.. The same two guards at the end of the hall. There was a swap when I was being brought back. When I checked the clock in my room it seems like it’s a midnight shift change. There’s also some new guys too. They’ve been stationed outside my room. One has a limp, favors his left leg. The other new guy, his partner, he’s the taller one. Takes a break every two hours. They left the slot in my door open once on accident. He leaves his radio, keycard, and some metal bracelet on the ground in his spot. I don’t know why. Maybe they track them? But he’s gone for exactly eight minutes each time.’

Steve blinked, slow, processing. This was more than he’s found out in two years. -You counted?-

‘Of course I counted.. Several times.’ Eddie’s voice was a little sharper now, brittle with the edge of what Steve could only describe as hope. It was accompanied by a warm feeling building in his chest. ‘We only get one shot. So I.. I figured we need to know everything.. Right?’

-Yeah no. That’s.. That’s great Eddie. You did great. That’s.. A lot more than we’ve had. In ever. If.. Maybe they’ll rotate to my room soon and I can figure something out from there.-

‘Well I thought.. If I time it right maybe… Maybe I can get the one with the limp to come into my room. Lock him in and take his keycard. Then you know just.. Get to you and we find a way out.’

-You think you can do that?- He didn’t sound teasing, just questioning.

‘No.’ Eddie admitted. ‘But I should try anyway. We don’t have many options.’

Steve smiled, just barely. Honest, but an idiot who would risk it just to make sure he didn’t die here. -Reckless idiot.- He muttered across the bond, making sure he sounded amused.

‘Takes one to know one, Harrington.’

He snickered -Back to last names are we, Munson?-

More warmth spreading through him, slowly. It felt nice. Good even. Like a balm soothing the pain his body was screaming at him not to ignore. Covering up everything he’d just gone through. ‘Mm maybe not.. Stevie.’ Stronger. Warmer.

There was silence again, but it was different this time. Not empty. Just waiting, the channel kept open between them.

He looked around his room. Something still felt wrong.

The angles were all the same. The walls still had the same caked in dust. There was still his scratched X next to his bed. It was all the same but somehow it just felt wrong. Like whatever they had done had scraped something out of him and left this place echoing.

He dragged a hand through his hair, still half expecting to hear Wayne humming or the loud echo of his truck. Instead it was just the annoying buzz of fluorescent lights. -Something’s different.- Steve murmured. Not to Eddie, just himself.

But the bond between them warmed, awake. ‘Different how?’ Eddie responded. Did he.. He meant to say it out loud. Steve hesitated in his response. How did he explain it without sounding crazy?

-I don’t know. It’s like… Like someone was in here. Which isn’t unusual but it’s like.. They touched everything and put it back just.. Wrong. Wrong enough for me to notice.- He shifted, uncomfortable. The pain in his body screaming for him to pay attention. -Maybe I’m just paranoid?-

‘OR.. Maybe you’re finally catching on to how messed up this place is.’ Eddie said, half joking. ‘I haven’t been treated as well as you so I’ve.. Noticed enough of their patterns. And when they break them? It’s not good. Not for us at least.’

Steve nodded, then remembered that Eddie couldn’t see him. -Right. Yeah. It’s just… It feels like they’re waiting for something. Or.. Or testing something. Like I’m an experiment.- He hated the way that sounded. Cold and clinical. Inhuman.

The silence stretched on for just a beat too long.

‘Well.. We are Steve. We’re just experiments to them. Their test subjects. Their monsters… Their guinea pigs.’ Eddie’s voice was quiet, different. Not afraid of saying it- just admitting it aloud. Like it gave it power. Steve finally laid back. Turning to his side, even though it shot pain up his spine, to stare at the X he carved.

-...I know… I hate not knowing when they’ll come back. Or what they’ll do.- He admitted quietly. Scared. -Or if I’ll..- Steve shifted again, trying to ease the pain and clear the fog he was falling into. -So the guard with the limp..- He tried changing the subject back to the plan. -If we can’t get him into a room. Think he’d be easy to take out?-

‘Yeah.. Tall guy’s too alert. Barely blinks. But the limp guy? He sits like the whole shift, only standing when he has too. When he does, it’s slow. There’s some room across from mine. I think it might be a supply closet? I’m not sure. But he leaves his keycard and stuff in there when he goes to, what I assume, is the bathroom. The room doesn’t have a lock either. But there’s only been two times so far that I’ve noticed them being gone at the same time.’

Steve let out a quiet whistle. Not that Eddie could hear. -You really have been planning.-

‘What the hell else am I supposed to do in here? Jerk off?- They both laughed, it echoed through them like feedback.

-Yeah okay fair point… We can’t move yet. Besides the fact that I can hardly get up. We still need to figure out too many loose ends. Like.. Are we even on the same floor? Where is your room from mine? Do we take the stairs? Or what floor do we need to escape? And we still might need a passcode. But.. I’ll keep my eyes open. See if they rotate those guys to me, I’ll figure out what I can. And if this is all we have.. Then it’s all we have. We’ll manage. But we’re getting out of here Eddie. No sacrificing yourself this time you hear me?’

He could feel Eddie’s presence, heavy and warm on the other side of the connection. Then he responded, strong, determined. ‘Yeah.. You got it. We.. We watch. We wait. And when we see that window, we break through it. Together. No sacrifices. No heroics. Together.’

Steve smiled again, but it felt different this time. More hopeful. -Together.- It whispered between them, echoing.

There was a pause. The bond between them quieting. Then slowly fizzling out, naturally, as if it knew the conversation had ended.

He leaned back, shifting to get comfortable. His body was still in pain, but he’d manage. They’d manage. He closed his eyes again, trying to get some more rest before the guards inevitably showed up to take him away again. He was still here. Still fighting. But he wasn’t alone. They’d get out. Together.

---

He must have drifted.

Not really asleep, just that floaty kind of dozing where you’re too tired to think, but too wired to let go. The connection between him and Eddie fizzled in and out. Like it wasn’t sure if their fear was enough for them to need one another. But he reached out anyway, trying to feel it, to see if he could control it. It was somewhere deep in the back of his mind, a quiet barely there pressure.

He was just about to touch it. Then the door clicked open.

Not the usual thunk, thunk, thunk, of the locks. He hadn’t heard the usual heavy steps of boots coming down the hall either. This was just a push of the door, a sudden burst of air from the outside. Like whoever was opening it didn’t want him to hear.

His body went cold. Steve froze up, eyes still shut. He didn’t even allow himself to breathe. It would only allow the panic to come quicker. Instinct told him not to move- not yet.

Footsteps. Soft. Controlled. -One pair.- His heartbeat picked up, thudding loud in his ears. But he forced himself to lie still. Maybe if they thought he was asleep.. Maybe they’d..

Something metallic scraped across the floor. He cracked open his eyes, just a sliver.

A tall figure in a white coat. Mask on. Clipboard in one hand, a long thin syringe in the other, he eyed it cautiously. -Definitely not a guard.- He moved like he had all the in the world. Like he’d done this a hundred times. -...Maybe he has.-

Steve’s throat tightened.

The man walked over to the side of his bed, setting the clipboard down without looking at him. “Mr. Harrington.” He said calmly, like they were having a casual conversation. The man stared down at his clipboard. “You’re more aware than we expected.. Then we anticipated.” He didn’t respond. His body held tight to prevent from flinching. Though he desperately wanted to move. That voice was..

The man turned slightly. Just enough for Steve to see the glint of a keycard. Though it wasn’t close enough to his fingers. If he could just.. -Come on just a little..- “Though that’s alright. This won’t take long.”

He brought the syringe closer.

-No no no!- His muscles tensed, still sluggish, but fighting back. -Not again.- He couldn’t go under again. He moved.

It wasn’t graceful, nor at the speed he would have liked. It was painful. More of a jerk of panic, legs swinging around the man and off the bed. Steve’s shoulder slamming into the man’s chest as he tried to scramble up, away. But the man didn’t even stumble. Just stepped back like he expected it. Or Steve wasn’t strong enough to move him. He hardly had the strength to defend himself, having been experimented on on top of not having food or blood in four days.

“Hmm. Not quite ready yet.” The man murmured, reaching to jot something down on the clipboard. The click of a pen echoing through his panic. Steve staggered, nearly falling to his knees. One hand bracing against the far wall. His vision spun.

“You’re destabilizing… Interesting.” The man tilted his head. “We may need to up your dosage next time.”

Steve’s pulse pounded. Next time. -Next.. Next time.-

He lunged. He didn’t even know what he was aiming for. The clipboard? The syringe? The man’s throat?

But the man had already backed off, pressing against a button attached to his shoulder.

A hiss. Then the door opened again. -Shit.-

Two guards. One with an electric baton. The other with a gun, already drawn. Steve braced himself. But nothing happened. Not right away.

Instead the man held up a hand. “No need. Let him struggle. It’s more useful that way.” He lifted his clipboard. His pen clicking loudly. The guards slowly closed in.

Steve fought. Weak and half- lucid, but he fought. A jab to one of their ribs, a kick that barely landed. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t fighting to win. Just fighting to live.

It ended with his face smacking heavily onto the floor. Knees digging into his back, arms yanked behind him. Through the ringing in his ears, through the pounding of his heart he had one screaming thought. Eddie.

He attempted to break free of their hold but no use. All it got was his cheek being roughly pressed against the cold tile.

-Eddie!- He reached deep into his mind, fumbling for the thread of their connection. It sparked, weak and static filled, like a dying radio. -Eddie they’re here! They’re..-

‘Steve?! What happened? What’s going on?!’ Eddie responded, but even his thoughts felt thick with sleep.

-I think.. I think they were testing me. Seeing what I remember. He said I’m ‘more aware’. I don’t know what that mea…-

Pain.

A prick in his neck. The soft hiss of an emptying syringe.

And then, nothing.

Chapter 17: Just A Little Longer

Summary:

Did any of that even happen?
A plan is given.
But is it real?

Notes:

There's a conversation at the end of the chapter. It's meant to be read as if it were rushed out in a hurry. Meant to be missing information and skipped over needed points. Enjoy!

Darkness.

Heavy and so thick it felt like it had weight. Like it was pressing in on him from all sides. Was he asleep? Was he dead?

No. No… The dead don’t feel pain. Right?

But God, he hurt. The kind of pain that wrapped around every inch of him like barbed wire under the skin. Dull and sharp all at once. Radiating out from somewhere deep. He couldn’t pinpoint it. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

There were footsteps. He was sure of that. Soft and unhurried. Shoes squeaking against tile, the sound echoing around him. But they didn’t come closer.

Voices too. Muffled, distant. They sounded close, but yet so very far away. Like someone had stuffed his ears full of cotton. Words bled into each other. No matter how hard he tried to focus, none of it made sense.

He wasn’t dreaming. Or if he was, it was the worst kind. Half real, half nightmare, all confusion.

What happened? Where was he?

He couldn’t see. Couldn’t move. He tried to open his eyes. Nothing. Not even a flicker. Just black. Like his body had forgotten how. Or it simply didn’t care to try anymore. Was this real? Was any of it real?

Where was he? Where was… There was someone else. Wasn’t there? Someone had been talking to him before, hadn’t they? A voice that wasn’t like the ones he heard now. Wasn’t cold, firm, distant. It was warmer. Familiar. Where had it gone?

Where was he? Who… Who was he?

He was cold. Why was he cold?

Things seemed fuzzy and far away. The only constant being the persistent pain radiating over his entire person.

But it wasn’t just the voices or the sounds everything. Everything. Felt far away. Even his thoughts seemed to escape him as soon as they came in.

His limbs were there. He knew they had to be.. Didn’t they? But they didn’t respond. Like he was wearing a body that wasn’t his. A coat too big and filled with steel. He could hardly remember what it felt like to move.

There was another sound now. He could hear a… A beeping. Yes he was hearing a beeping. It was coming from somewhere he couldn’t see, a direction he couldn’t place. Faint but constant. Water too. Rushing in the distance. There was a sudden screech. It too was distant but sharp, loud. He let out a quiet, pained hum. Just air really, less a voice more a reminder. Here. I’m here.

Then, silence.

The voices stopped. The footsteps falling silent.

It was only for a moment. But it felt like the room itself held its breath.

Then everything came rushing back. Like everything had suddenly dialed up to a hundred. The voices were shouting now. Still muddled but sounding frantic. Orders, probably. Commands barked through clenched jaws. Still incomprehensible to him. Footsteps moved again. But they had lost their calm, their distance. Now they thundered towards him.

Hands. He could feel hands on him now. Touch. Finally. Something solid. Pressing down on his arms, his chest. Pulling things. Adjusting.

He still couldn’t see. Still couldn’t move. Everything was still dark, still painful, still cold.

Then suddenly there was heat.

White-hot, burning up through his veins. Something was being injected into him. Something fast moving.

He wanted to scream. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. He couldn’t tell.

The fire raced through him, lighting up every nerve. His spine arched- or tried to. His body spasmed- or wanted to. But nothing quite moved the way it should. The pain had shape now. Sharp edges. Searing.

He thought maybe this was it. Maybe this was what dying actually felt like. Not peace. Just heat and confusion, too many voices all at once.

And then just as slowly as he came too.. He was gone again.

---

“Hmm. Interesting. If you look at the results from the last one they differ from-.” The voice faded off before he could hear what the differences were. Not that it mattered. He had no idea what they were talking about.

His finger twitched. Everything was suddenly loud again. More hurried footsteps. More shouts. The beeping grew louder.

Then suddenly the heat was back, shooting up his arms. He tried to scream. He wanted to. But all that came out was a weak barely there noise. Like the last of the air was being pushed from his chest.

He went back under again.

---

He surfaced slow. Like crawling up from the bottom of a pool with rocks in his pockets.

He tastes the air first. Sharp and dry. His throat felt rubbed raw, like he’d swallowed sand. He coughed, or tried to. It came out in a wet rasp, not nearly strong enough to relieve the pressure in his chest.

Then came the light. Not bright, but dim and artificial. Cold white. -Not dead then.- Buzzing overhead. It stung through the cracks of his lashes. He blinked, slow and sluggish. His eyes felt like they’d been glued shut. Where…

Steve turned his head. Or maybe it turned on its own. He couldn’t tell. Everything hurt, but it was quieter now. The world having gone from screaming to whispering.

He was in a different room. Not his. Not the grey not gym. Not their hangout room, or any lab he’d been in before. Clean. It was too clean. And quiet. -Shit.-

They moved him. He didn’t remember when. He didn’t remember anything after the pain. After the fire in his veins.

He flexed his finger, just barely. The others only twitched. It hurt, but they moved. At least it was something. There was something else. Something in the back of his mind. ‘-ause if you die on me I won’t be able to handle it.. Not. Not here Stevie. And… And Wayne will be so pissed at you.’ Eddie. And he was.. His name was Steve. That’s right. Steve.

His fingers twitched again, attempting to reach out. Yes.. That was Eddie. The warmth was faint, like a memory. But it was still there deep in the back of his mind. ‘I felt it Stevie.’ Eddie’s voice cracked. ‘I felt it, whatever they gave you. I couldn’t… Steve, you were gone. You were fucking gone, and I..’

Steve licked over his dry lips, swallowed hard. He tried to find the energy to respond. Tried to gather his thoughts. Nothing. He blinked, slow, sluggish. Then, even his thoughts sounded hoarse. -Mm.. Not.. Gone.-

The relief that crashed through their bond almost made him dizzy. Like a rain shower in the middle of a hot desert. ‘Steve! I didn’t know if… Jesus. I thought.. You just disappeared. You were screaming and then just.. Nothing. I couldn’t even feel you.’ His voice was small, scared.

He could feel Eddie pacing. Not literally, but emotionally. His nervous energy moving fast and sharp behind his ribs. -Sorry.-

‘Don’t… Don’t apologize. Fuck! Just.. What. What happened?’

Steve tried to piece it together. What he’d heard. What he’d felt. What he remembered. It was a blur. Pain, hands, voices, a fire in his veins. -They… Put something in me.. Big dose… Burned. Everything. Everything hurt. Then.. Nothing.-

Eddie was silent. But the feelings didn’t fade. If anything they intensified. Made his chest hurt, his ribs shake.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

‘I thought you died. Just… Just for a second.’ The words were quiet. Honest. Crushed.

Steve swallowed again. Let his heavy eyes close. -Not yet.-

‘Don’t joke about it.’ He hummed. -Not joking.- He cracked the barest smile, not that Eddie could see. -If I was dead I wouldn’t be stuck on this shitty… Bed?-

‘Yeah? I’d say the afterlife probably has a better thread count.’ He tried to laugh, he tried. Silence fell again. Comfortable only in the sense that they were both too wrung out to say more. Steve let the quiet settle. Let the pain fade back as he laid still. Click.

‘Can you move?’ Eddie broke through the silence.

-No. Not much. Just.. Twitching my fingers.. Everything hurts.. Again.-

A pause. Then Eddie, softer. ‘Okay.. Okay, that’s okay. Just.. Stay awake if you can. I’ll try to keep talking.’ He let out a quiet groan as he forced his eyes back open.

-How.. How long?-

He heard Eddie snort. ‘As long as I need to Stevie.. Or.. Did you mean how long were you out?’ He hummed in response. Too tired for words. ‘A little over a day. No one came to take me so..’

Steve let that sink in. Or maybe he was just too tired to think about anything else. Slowly, he let another thought broadcast across the silence. -We need that keycard.- Click.

‘Yeah.. Yeah we do.’ There was something new in Eddie’s voice now. Determination. Buried under his their fear. ‘I’ve been watching again. Timing their routes, their shift changes. I think.. If they think you’re still down, they’ll be more relaxed. If it’s just me I can.. I can use that.’

Steve exhaled, slow. Painfully. -Risky.-

‘I don’t care.’

-You should.-

‘I don’t.’

Silence again. Then Steve let his eyes close, just for a second. Click. A quiet beep sounded somewhere behind him. His body tensed, every nerve suddenly awake and screaming. -Don’t do anything yet.-

‘I won’t. Not without you.’ The bond went quiet again. Not closed. Just… Resting. Waiting. Click.

His eyes shot open, a sharp hiss leaving his lips. -Eddie?- Silence. -Eddie?... Eddie?!- Still nothing. Not even static. The thread that he knew should feel solid, should feel warm. Now it felt like it had been cut. His heart started to race. Several quiet beeps filled the room. He tried to swallow down the panic clawing at his chest.

He couldn’t sit up. Couldn’t move. But his senses were awake now. Alert.

There were new sounds. Faint but they surrounded him. A whir of something mechanical above him. The hiss of hydraulics. A soft shuffle of fabric. The hum of electricity changing pitch. Click.

Something had shifted. Like someone had attempted to erase his edges. Things were distorted.

A shadow moved just outside his vision. Subtle. Like someone, something, was stalking him. Watching. Waiting. Click. Steve’s heartbeat picked up.

He wasn’t alone anymore. He could feel something. Someone.

Footsteps, careful and deliberate, echoed in the room.

He turned his head as far as he was able, which wasn’t far. But it was just enough to catch a blur of movement. A figure. A lab coat. Gloves. Masked face. This one was slower. Watching. -Not a guard.-

They didn’t speak. Didn’t even acknowledge him. Just walked to the far corner of the room. He noticed a cabinet that he hadn’t seen before. They bent down to unlock it, typing a code into a small, worn keypad.

Steve’s fingers twitched at his side. He strained his mind to pull on the bond again. To try and reach Eddie. Nothing. Just an empty void.

“Vitals elevated.” Echoed around him. Like the voice was the room itself. -No. No.- He noticed the masked figure stood still, staring at him. “Aware but unconscious.. Movement restricted…. Much higher tolerance than expected.” The voice echoed again.

He tried to look around but the room spun briefly. He looked back to the masked figure and flinched, or would have if he could move. The person stood directly next to him. He hadn’t even heard him move. But the person was holding something in their gloved hand. A syringe.

“Let’s adjust the dose.” The voice echoed again. Was it behind him? Around him? Was it him? Click. Steve’s stomach dropped.

“No.” He rasped, voice raw and weak, but desperate. “No-” The person didn’t react to him. Just moved closer. Calm. Practiced. Like Steve was just a data point. An experiment.

He tried to lift his arm. To move away. Nothing. He tried to scream, but he just cracked out an exhale.

And then..

The lights flickered.

Just once. A single, stuttering blink.

But it was enough. Enough for the figure to pause, glancing up at the ceiling.

And in that tiny hesitation, the bond sparked back to life. Raw, hot, and panicked. ‘STEVE?!’

He could’ve cried. Eddie. He tried to respond, but his thoughts were swimming. Something felt hot in his neck.

“The subject is resistant.” The voice echoed, too calm for the panic bubbling within Steve.

The figure in front of him flicked the end of the syringe. “We should attempt-” The voice cut out as an alarm suddenly blared around them. His body tried to flinch, his muscles seizing up. But nothing happened. The figure jerked back, startled. The syringe fell from its hand hitting the ground, shattering. “Containment breach. Containment breach..” A new, distorted voice echoed. “Containment breach. Sublevel twelve… Containment breach. Containment breach.…. Containment breach. Sublevel twelve.” It echoed.

In between one breath and the next the figure suddenly disappeared. Steve’s vision swam. He could hear a door bursting open. But he couldn’t see it. Yelling, but he couldn’t understand it. It sounded like someone was giving orders. -An evacuation?- “Harrington.” A new voice called out. Quiet, cautious. “Harrington. I need you to wake up” He knew that voice. How did he know that voice?

He could hear the echo of an alarm, but it was growing distant. Something was wrong. Something had shifted. He tried to swallow but his body no longer felt like his own. “Come on. Come on.” He could feel a light pressure on his arm, but it felt so far away. “I need you to wake up. Come on I need-.”

---

His eyes shot open. A large gasp filled his lungs with air. He looked around frantically.

Next to him stood a man in a lab coat, he looked older than the other scientists. He looked.. Scared? Steve blinked slowly. Was this.. Was this real? The man had one hand lifted in front of him, fingers splayed like he was trying not to spook a wild animal. “Harrington.” He said again, softly. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe for the moment.”

Steve didn’t believe him. He was never safe. Not here.

His chest heaved, he didn’t need it but his body screamed for air. His muscles felt like they’d been cut and stitched back together. His hands twitched at his sides, but he couldn’t lift them. He wanted to speak but all that came out was a low, pained wheeze.

“Don’t try to talk. Just listen, we don’t have much time.” The man said quickly. His voice low, urgent. “I let out some of those monsters to cause a distraction. But they’ll manage to stop them eventually.” He rushed out, reaching into his pocket. Steve’s eyes widened. He tried to move away, but his body wouldn’t cooperate.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I need you to focus, okay? You need to remember what I’m going to say.” He pulled a keycard from his lab coat. “I know what they’re trying to do with you. I can’t… This isn’t what I signed up for. This isn’t what either of you deserve.”

The man unclipped his keycard. “I’ve noticed you scenting the air. I’ve noticed the way you and Munson stare at each other, the way you communicate. And if I’ve noticed.. It wont be long until they catch on and then.. What they already have planned is bad enough. They’re bringing in something… Horrifying.”

He moved around unhooking the IV’s Steve didn’t notice he was attached to. “I don’t know what you can smell. But if you can smell lies then you’ll know I’m being honest with you.” He stopped, looking Steve dead in the eyes. “I just want to help you both.” He waited until he saw Steve’s nostrils flare before continuing.

“They have me in here to make sure the monster doesn’t get in. I.. Volunteered to stay behind. So I could do this… But this.. Their work. It was interrupted, so it’ll need to be restarted. However, they can’t start over for another few days. Or it’ll mess up their results.” He glanced up to look at Steve. -Determined.- His mind supplied. -And telling the truth.-

“I’m going to dress you. That way they won't have to so that this.” He held up the keycard to show Steve. “Can be kept hidden. But.. I’m sorry we can’t let them find it so I’m going to have to.. To put it into your underwear. Just.. Remember later not to let them see it.”

Steve’s fingers twitched again, like he wanted to reach out for the keycard. He swallowed, it burned. His head lolled to one side as he tried to move it to nod. But it went wrong. He was forcing his eyes to stay open. Forcing himself to stay focused. The world was starting to distort around the edges, the alarm still blaring in the distance. Had any of what he experienced been real? Had he even talked to Eddie? Had he ever made it back to his room? He glanced behind the man, red warning lights were still strobing against the wall. Bathing the man’s face in blood red flashes.

“I’m going to get you both out of here.” The man’s voice cut through his thoughts. He felt the man at the waistband of his underwear. He felt the cold keycard being clipped to the inside of it. He let out a weak, painfilled groan as his legs were moved when pants slid on them. “I really need you to pay attention now, okay?”

He tried to respond. Opened his mouth trying to force the words out. All he could do was a weak whine. He stared at the man. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He gently pulled Steve’s arms up to slide his shirt on. White hot pain shot down his spine. “I’m going to monitor the camera for when you wake up. Let Munson know about this alright?” He tried to nod, his head didn’t move. He just stared.

“This is going to be a lot of information but I trust you’ll be able to pull it off. The keycard. It’ll open your door from the inside. Right under the handle there’s a slot for it. Barcode goes in first. In and out quickly.. There’s a room you were taken to not that long ago. You had breakfast with Brenner there, do you remember?” He managed to let out a weak groan, blinking. He was trying his best to focus. He needed to ignore the pain, to remember what this man was saying.

“Go back to that room. You’ll hear the sound of rushing water. I need you to follow it. You’ll find it’s source in a room with.. What’s in it doesn’t matter. In there will be a large metal vent against the back left side of the far wall. It’s industrial so you and Munson will fit through. I’ll make sure it’s open and the fans are off.”

The man turned to the table controls, lowering it with a whine of hydraulics. “I need you to follow the vent up. It’s going to be a bit of a challenge but your claws should be able to pierce the metal. Follow it up and you’ll come out on sub level nine.” He leaned down, gently checking Steve’s pupils.

“From there you’ll be on your own for a while. I recommend finding the stairs and taking them, just to be safe. They might be able to shut down the elevators. You need to follow them up to level six. That’s where you’ll find the exit.” -Eddie.- His thoughts began to filter back in. -How… Eddie.-

The man gently pushed his arm behind Steve’s head. His other going under his knees. “Brace yourself. This is going to hurt. But I need to move you.” He waited a moment, giving Steve time before he slowly, with effort, lifted Steve from the table.

Steve groaned, pain lighting up every nerve as his head flopped back against the man’s arm, useless. His legs swinging as the man moved him over to a flat metal cart. “I needed to move you before they do, just to make sure the keycard won’t move.” He stared at the man, blinking in acknowledgement.

“Like I said.. You need to get to level six. It’s a parking garage. I need you both to get out as fast as you can, alright?” Steve blinked again, keeping his eyes closed for a moment. He sucked a deep breath in, it was all too much. “Okay just.. There’s a lot of woods, we’re surrounded on all sides. I need you both to run straight into the woods from the exit of the parking garage. There's only one place you can exit from so it’ll be easy. From there just.. Run as straight through the woods as you can. The second you’re out of your room I’ll make my move, you get Munson and get out.”

“H…” He breathed out, trying to get his mouth to form words. The echo of the alarm ‘Containment breach’ still sounding, though no longer distorted. “H.. How.” He licked over his lips. “G.. Get.. Eddie. W..Where?”

“Ah yes. Munson got moved not that long ago. His room is two halls over from yours. Take a right outside of your door, take the turn at the end of the hall right. Then all the way down take the left. His room will be the fifth door on the right. Understand?” -Right, right at the end of the hall, left at the end of the hall. 5th door on the right. Got it.- He blinked again, hard. “Good. The keycard will unlock his door as well.”

“G… Gua-.. Guards-?” He tried to continue, but he was too weak.

“Ah yes. I have someone on my side for that. Once you’re awake and ready to go, give a thumbs up to the camera and I’ll give the signal. They’ll make sure the guards by your door are gone. Once they are you need to get out and find Munson quickly. Now his guards might be more of a problem. But if they’re still there.. I trust you’ll be able to handle it.” He tried to nod. He was only able to twist his neck, just barely. But it seemed to be enough.

The signal for the containment breach suddenly cut out. The man froze before he hurried out an explanation. “Once you’re in the woods you run straight. You’ll find a road, just a single lane. You wait there. I’ll find you both alright? Stay out of sight, stay quiet. I’ll find you both before they do. I promise.”

The man moved over to grab a syringe. Steve’s eyes widened in fear. “I know. I’m sorry. But I need to sedate you now. If I don’t it would seem too suspicious to them. I’ll only give you a small dose.” The man paused, the syringe inches from his arm. “I almost forgot.. If you run into a keypad use the code seven, one, five, nine, eight. Repeat it back to me. Seven, one, five, nine, eight.”

He swallowed hard, his throat felt like it was on fire. “S-Seven…. O-one.. Fi.. Five.. N-Nine.. Ei-Eight.” The man nodded and tapped his arm twice.

“I’ll see you soon, Harrington. And Munson too. Just a little longer now… Good luck.”

His body screamed in pain, his heart hammering. But he smiled at the man. His eyes slipping closed at the touch of the needle.

He’d get out of here. They’d get out of here.

As long as the man wasn’t lying. As long as this wasn’t a trap. -I didn’t even get his name.- Was his last thought before he slowly slipped out of consciousness.

Chapter 18: Hope

Summary:

A plan is had.
A plan is made.
Hope blossoms.

Steve woke up in waves.

It started slow, like dragging himself up through molasses. First he could feel the familiar, uncomfortable, bed underneath him. Then the buzzing of the fluorescent lights. Then it was the smell. The stale moldy, slightly dusty air that settled around him. The world felt thick, muffled, and too bright all at once. Like he was underwater or..

Or maybe he was back in that dream. Was it a dream? His body was a slab of aching nerves, each muscle bruised and humming with its own particular brand of misery. But… But he was alive.

Pain. It was the first thing he could be certain of. The reason he knew this wasn’t a dream. For the pain was clear now. Deep, sharp, digging its claws into his back. A ringing ache in his chest, dull fire in his arms. Like every last piece of him had been ripped apart and crudely sewn back together. His bones felt like chalk. But he was alive.. Barely. And he was awake now. That had to count for something. Right?

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the grainy blur. The ceiling above him was familiar, white with a singular water stain that spread out in an odd blob. He was in his room again. Back in the box. How long had he been asleep this time? How long-... Where had they taken him? Did he… Did he really almost die? Or was that a dream too?

For a minute, he just laid there. Letting the ache in his bones die down, trying to keep the panic at bay. It curled behind his ribs, ready to strike at any moment. He tried to flex his fingers. His right hand twitched, his left hand didn’t respond. His legs still felt heavy. But at least he was still dressed. That was go-.. Keycard.

Everything suddenly came rushing back to him. The keycard in his underwear. The man, scientist? The containment breach. The plan. Eddie.

Eddie.

His eyes shot toward the corner of the room, toward the camera. He could barely see it without moving his head, but he knew it was there. Knew it was watching. But he could hardly move, couldn’t let Eddie know about the plan yet. Right, yes. Eddie.

He closed his eyes, reaching inward, fumbling clumsily though the fog that clouded his thoughts. -The bond. Is it still there?- He may not have control over it, but he knew how to find it. The back of his mind. The part he kept hidden even from himself. -Focus on it.- The part of himself he protected the most.

Nothing.

Until-

Soft. Distant. Muted, like someone was whispering in the middle of a storm. But it was there. -Eddie.- It was barely a whisper, more breath and sound. He touched the bond, gently. Like he was afraid it would shatter. He remembers what it felt like to be cut. -Had that been real?-

-Eddie.- He tried again, just a little louder. This time, he felt something ripple in return. Faint. Uncertain. He clenched his jaw, forced himself to push forward. He had no idea what he was doing, just knew he had to do it. He had to find some way to control it, to get through to Eddie. -Eddie!- He tried again. Louder. Focused so heavily on the bond he could feel a pulsing, pounding beginning at the base of his skull. -Eddie!-

His eyes shot open. His heart pounded like it was trying to break through his ribs. The pain made his vision flicker, but he clung to it like a lifeline now. -Eddie!- He pushed as loudly as he could. This was his mind. His voice. His Eddie. He could do this. The only thing in his life he could control right now. He didn’t have a choice.

‘Steve?’ Quiet, unsure, a barely there response. Like Eddie was unsure if he heard him.

Sweat had gathered on his forehead, ran down the back of his neck. His head throbbed. The world spun. But he did it. He finally did it. -Eddie.- Steve whispered across their bond, tears threatening to spill. He wanted to cry. To break down. But he couldn’t, not yet. -Eddie I.. I’m alive. I’m.. Okay.- He smiled shakily. He did it. He actually did it.

‘Steve? Jesus H. Christ man! I… Steve I..’ He sounded raw, broken.

-Eddie listen we.. We.. I don’t know how much time we have, okay?-

‘What do you-’

-Just listen please.- Steve interrupted. -They had me.. I was..- He couldn’t get it out. Why couldn’t he get it out?

‘..Stevie.’ Eddie began, like he was forcing himself to be calm. ‘I heard you screaming. I don’t know.. I don’t know what they were doing to you but I felt your pain, your panic. I felt how terrified you were. Then.. Then there was the alarm. It went off and I was so… I thought you.. Are you okay?’

He glanced down at his right hand. It was shaking. Weakly, he forced it into a first. Progress. -I.. That was.. Real? The alarm?- A quiet acknowledgement rippled from the bond. -Then… Then what they did doesn’t matter.-

‘Steve it-’

-Not right now.- Steve interrupted. -I’m.. I’m in a lot of pain but I.. I need you to listen. Okay?-

‘Yeah. Yeah Steve, okay.’

-Just.. There was a man. A scientist. He let the demogorgons out as a distraction. If.. If that was real then..- His hand shook as he forced it up. Forced his limbs to cooperate as he slid his hand into his pants, feeling down the front of his underwear. The keycard. He pretended to scratch an itch for the camera.

-Eddie.. He.. He gave me a keycard.- Steve thought he could hear the shock of breath Eddie sucked in. -If.. If this isn’t some sort of trap he.. He told me how to get to you. How to.. How to get out he… He.. If it really happened then I.. He didn’t smell like he was lying. He said he wanted to.. Wanted to help us.- He clenched his eyes shut, willing the tears back down.

‘Steve…’ A long pause. The silence heavy between them.

‘Do you think… I’ll go with you on this one. If you trust him. If you trust that this isn’t just ano-.. Just a trap. I’ll trust you. I trust you. So I’ll follow your lead.’

-I think it’s our only shot. Unless.. Unless you think you’ll be able to get the keycard from your guards?-

‘No..’ Came Eddie’s immediate reply. ‘No I don’t. I was.. There was.. I just don’t. If you.. If you think he’ll really help us. If we can get out.. I say we take it.’

-Yeah.- He weakly reached up, pressing his hand against his eyes. His movements felt a little stronger. -Yeah I mean.. If-If he was really lying what’s the worst that can happen? They kill us?... Eds if we don’t try now… We’ll never get another chance and.. We’re gonna die here anyway. At least.. At least I will. If they keep going.-

Silence.

A heavy weight settling between them, pressing down on him. He would have worried the bond closed if he couldn’t feel the strength of it now. The hum of Eddie just at the back of his mind. Because whatever he did, it worked. It was a small win, but he’d take it.

‘Steve I… Are you okay? It’s been.. It’s been. You were gone for a while. The last time I saw you, you were nearly dead in that shitty grey room. Are you okay? Really?’

-I’m not going to lie to you.. I can’t really move right now. Everything hurts. I think.. I mean you told me I died for a minute so..-

‘Steve.’ Eddie cut in. ‘I.. I never told you that?.. I haven’t seen you since the gym. I talked to you after you woke up back in your room but.. I heard you screaming. I could feel your pain. I tried to call for you a few times but nothing. I felt the bond open the other day and I tried to call out to you, I hoped you’d hear me but.. I haven’t heard from you since the day you woke up.’

The panic he had tried to hold back. That all consuming feeling finally broke free from where it was hiding deep in his chest. ‘Steve.’ He could hear Eddie but it was being drowned out by the loud beating of his heart. It had kicked into gear the moment he heard the truth. Had it all just been some messed up dream?

Was this even real? ‘Steve?’ His hand gripped his chest, clenching his shirt between his fingers. His claws came out instinctively, ripping into his shirt, into himself. He talked to Eddie about the guards, right? That was real.. Right? They talked.. They talked after he woke up. He was asleep for four days.. Right? ‘STEVE!’

No. No, he needed to focus. Needed to calm down. To tell Eddie the plan but.. But.. He forced himself to suck in a deep breath, it felt like wet sand. He realized he hadn’t been breathing this whole time, his lungs hadn’t been forcing breath in which meant… -How long has it been? How long since.. Since you last heard from me?- The quiet, terrified question filtered through his panic.

‘...Steve it’s been..’ A breath held between them. A barely there response. ‘Twelve days.’

Twelve.. Twelve days.

He had been in that lab for twelve days. What had they done to him? What did they make him do? What did… What did they do to Eddie? What was taken from them? From him? -Oh..- He finally responded.

-Eddie I… Shit!- He forced another deep breath in. He didn’t have time to panic. He couldn’t. But… They knew he didn’t need to breathe. His lungs had been wrung dry, like he hadn’t taken a breath nearly the entire time. That’s fine.. That’s fine he can work with them knowing. If all works out they’ll escape but.. If it doesn’t.. If this is just a trap.. No! No he couldn’t afford to think like that.

-The uh.. I’ll deal with it later. Okay? I can’t.. My body is still waking up right now but I need to.. I need to tell you the plan. Okay?-

‘Yeah… Yeah Stevie whatever you want. Just.. I don’t know where I am anymore, they moved my room. And.. Yeah just. Just tell me the plan.’ He took a deep breath, forced it in and then back out. He did it again. And again. He couldn’t panic. They needed to move as soon as possible, as soon as he was able.

-I know. He told me. I don’t.. I don’t know if this will work out. But we have to.. We have to treat it like it will, okay?-

‘Yeah. Yeah of course. So.. How?..’

-He gave me a keycard.- He could still feel the echo of Eddie’s shock through the bond. -And a code. We have to.. There’s a room not too far down from you that we need to get to. There’ll be a vent.-

He felt the echo of Eddie’s laugh before he interrupted. ‘I told you.. We crawl through a vent. Let me guess, a sewer too?’

-Tsk. No. You gonna let me continue?-

‘Yeah. Yeah. Sorry.’

-As I was saying. We crawl through a vent and we need to make our way up to sub level nine. From there we just.. Take the stairs to level six… I hope you brought your running shoes, Munson.- He joked, trying to lighten their situation.

‘Oh yeah totally! I have brand new Nikes right here. Bought them with daddies credit card.’ He let his lips twitch, an almost smile.

-Good. Because I don’t know what level we’re on but the vent takes us to nine so.. From there it’ll be about.. Fourteen flights of stairs. Just about. Plus whatever climb we have to make in the vents.- He heard the groan Eddie let out.

‘Fourteen?! Well… Well fuck! After this I’m never running again, you hear me? Don’t ever ask me to go to the gym with you Harrington!’ Steve let out a quiet laugh, letting his amusement flow through their bond.

-Yeah Eds.. I won’t. After this we’re getting cheese burgers and.. I don’t know, do you like cheese fries? Screw it, we’re getting them anyway. We deserve it.-

‘And beers.’ Eddie adds in. ‘We’re getting cheese burgers, cheese fries, and beers. It’s a date.’

He opened his mouth partly out of shock, partly to respond aloud. But he slowly let it close. A date.. Yeah, that would be nice. ‘Tell me about the rest of this plan, oh wise one.’ Eddie added when the silence stretched too long.

Steve rolled his eyes, he could feel the pain slowly beginning to edge away. -Yeah yeah. I’ll hold you to that y’know… So. Okay. So I use the keycard to get out of my room. He said the guards should be handled but I’ll make sure I’m ready just in case. Yours might be a problem, maybe the ones in the hall too but.. I’ll take care of it.-

‘Be careful. They’re strong and.. I don’t foresee them giving either of us blood anytime soon.’

-I will. Don’t worry. But uh.. I just use the keycard to get you out and we run like hell to the vent… He said we might need to use our claws in there. Um anyway.. From there we take the stairs like I said. No elevators. He said they can probably shut them down.-

‘What about the code? You said he gave you one?’

-Right yeah. Just in case I forget it’s.. Seven, one, five, nine, eight.-

‘Seven, one, five, nine, eight. Got it. What else?’

-Okay so.. He said the exit comes out of a parking garage on level six. That there’s only one way out from it so we need to take it as fast as we can. From there we just need to run straight.- Steve licked over his lips, nervously. They could do this. They had to do this.

-He said this place is surrounded by woods but we need to run straight through them from the parking garage. We’ll eventually come across a single lane road. We need to wait there out of sight. He promised to find us before they do. So you know.. Just.. A lot of running.-

‘That all?’ Eddie asked, mockingly. But his voice had a hint of worry, buried under it, an edge of hope.

-Yeah Munson that’s all.- He parrots back, remembering how Eddie was in the boathouse. His attitude with Dustin. Dustin who.. Would he see him again? He let his amusement filter through. -Yeah.. Yeah we can do this.. Right?-

‘Yeah Stevie.. We can do this.’

-This.. Eddie this is.. This is real.. Right? Tell me.. Tell me this is real.-

‘Steve.. Steve. I promise. I promise this is real. I promise we’ll get out of here. And if.. If something goes wrong. If this guy is just another asshole messing with us.. We’ll deal with it. But we’re gonna get it out. And we’re gonna get out together. This is real. I’m real. You’re real. We’re really gonna get out, okay?’

-Yeah.- He responded weakly. -Yeah okay. This is real. We’re.. We’re really gonna get out of here.-

‘Yeah.’ Eddie responded.

Silence settled over them. More hopeful than before. Not pressing, just quiet. The bond thrumming, alive, between them.

He took a deep breath in, forcing his lungs to fill.

They were so close. They’d get out of here. Together.

Because someone was finally helping them.

Because there was finally some hope.

Because there was a keycard hidden just beneath the waistband of his underwear.

And for the first time in ever, they had a way out. An actual plan.

He just had to hold himself together a little longer. Just a little bit longer.

---

He had dozed off sometime after their conversation, his body needing the rest to ease his pain.

A groan left his lips as he rolled over, his arm flopping lazily over the edge of the bed. -’Gone get outta here.- Steve thought. He doesn’t know how long he was asleep this time but his body felt lighter. He was still in pain, but he no longer felt weighed down.

‘Yeah we are.’ Came the quiet, hopeful response. He tensed up, just for a second. Until he realized it was just Eddie.

-Eddie?-

‘Yeah?’

-Didn’t realize the connection was still open…. Hey um.. Did we..- How does he even ask? Did I dream everything up or did we discuss a plan? Was everything before just one big dream? Or did we really… Is this even real? -Did.. Did I tell you about there being something wrong with my room? Or did I.. Did..- He couldn’t finish the question. Couldn’t ask what he needed to know.

‘Yeah.. Yeah Stevie you did. We talked for a little while after you woke up. That was real.’ He let out a breath of relief, he didn’t know he was holding. ‘We talked about… The guards.. I um.. I promised you no heroics and I.. Yeah sorry. I.. Nevermind um.. The connection closed but I think. You were definitely dreaming when it opened. I heard you screaming ‘no’ but then just.. Nothing. Silence like.. I don’t know man but I could still feel you. Like a pressure behind my eyes but you were quiet.’

-Oh.. Sorry.- He closed his eyes tightly. So it was a dream then.. The scientists in his room, the guards. But how did he know? How did he know that he wasn’t dreaming now? Was there a difference? Was there.. Something had to be different.

‘Steve?’ He let out a quiet hum of acknowledgement. ‘I tried calling you a few times now.. It’s okay. This is real. You’re awake. But that was.. That was the last time I heard from you. Listen man I can.. I can almost taste your fear. I need you to..’ A beat of silence until. ‘You still have your book?’

He glanced over to his desk. -Yes?- He answered, confused.

‘You can’t read in dreams. I know you have trouble reading but this isn’t like that. I mean you literally cannot read in a dream. The words don’t just scramble around, they’re not even words. It’ll be impossible to read if you’re dreaming so just.. Just open it. If you can.’

Steve let out a long groan as he slowly forced his body into sitting up. -Yeah just.. Give me a second. I feel like I got hit by a truck again.-

‘Again?!’ Steve hummed, forcing his body to stand on wobbly legs. He hasn’t stood in twelve days. At least.

-Yeah.. Well it wasn’t really a truck but my dad had this rental once. Some type of suv I think. I was.. I was in the garage practicing with a baseball bat and he just.. Pulled in. Didn’t get to try out for the team that year.- There was a moment of silence before Eddie breathed out.

‘What the fuck?’ He shrugged, or attempted to. It still hurt. But he tried, even though he couldn’t be seen. Looking over to his desk a small tired smile split his lips. The Fellowship of the Ring sat in the middle of it, just like he left it. He slowly made his way over, each step gaining more strength, more confidence.

He picked the book up with shaking hands. He couldn’t bring himself to even glance at the cover as he opened it to the first chapter. If he couldn’t read it.. If none of this was real.. He slowly looked down. A breath he didn’t know he was holding escaped. -But so far trouble had not come; and Mr. Baggins was generous with his money.. Okay so.. So this is real.- He closed his eyes, bringing the book to his forehead. This was real. This is real. He’s not dreaming.

‘It’s real Stevie. This is real. I mean sorry that you’re really in this shithole but it’s real.’

He let a tired laugh echo down their bond. -Hey.. We’re gonna get out of this shithole so.. I’m just sad that I have to leave my book behind.- He lowered said book, letting it rest open on the desk.

‘We can get you another copy. When we’re out of this place.’

-Yeah.. Yeah okay. I don’t know how soon I'll be able to run but.. It won’t be long. Make sure you’re wearing my sweater Munson. I don’t want to leave that behind.- He slowly walked over to the cabinet, pulling out his sweatshirt and the last pair of sweatpants.

‘Yeah, yeah, Harrington. I um… I haven’t taken it off recently so it’s all good. You’re just lucky I was wearing it when they moved me.’

-Oh yeah I’m the lucky one… Why did they move you?- Steve slowly pulled off his grimy tshirt, pulling on the clean sweatshirt. He had to maneuver around to take his pants off so the camera couldn’t see the outline of the keycard. But he played it off like he was shy.

‘Because I.. Because they’re assholes. Just because they like to fuck with us is why.’

-Hmm. Well.. I.. I hope this works out.- He admitted quietly. So quiet he wasn’t sure he broadcasted it until-

‘Yeah.. Me too.’

Notes:

Thinking of publishing chapter 19 today too. Might. Might not.

Chapter 19: Nerves

Summary:

Steve pretends to read.
They're terrified.
What does freedom mean?

Notes:

Some AMAZING fan art was created for this fic by one of my awesome readers. You can find it Here

Steve sat back down on the edge of his bed. His arms ached from the short walk across the room. His legs trembled faintly beneath him, unused to supporting his weight. But he was up. He was dressed. He’d moved, and nothing had stopped him. That alone felt like some kind of miracle.

The room around him blurred, though not from pain this time. His gaze had simply gone distant. The truth of it was still sinking in.

This was real. He was real. They were going to get out of here.

Steve let out a slow, quiet breath. The room felt too still in the aftermath of their conversation. He could hear the quest whispers of the guards outside his door. Those annoying lights buzzed overhead. Somewhere above him, footsteps echoed. But in this room, there was only him. And the echo of Eddie’s voice, still lingering down their bond like a smoke that hadn’t yet cleared.

They were going to try.

Really try.

And if it worked. If they got out. What then?

His hands flexed subtly. How claws extending before he allowed them to withdraw, grounding himself with the feeling. Something normal. Something that had no wires, no needles, no pain. Something that didn’t need decoding or caution.

But freedom didn’t feel as simple. It didn’t feel light. It sat on his chest like a question too big to answer yet.

Steve thought of the feeling of grass under his feet. Or air that didn’t taste like filtered recirculation. Of silence that didn’t mean surveillance.

He thought of Eddie.

He pulled his fingers back, like he wanted to clench his fists, but didn’t. There was no going back to what came before. Not really. Not after everything. Even if the world stayed the same on the outside, he wouldn’t. They wouldn’t.

He let his claws come back out. -I don’t know what we’re supposed to do when we’re free.- He thought to himself. Not into the bond. Just himself. He didn’t need Eddie to worry. But the silence didn’t answer. Nor had the bond fizzled out yet.

He pulled his claws back and closed his eyes, letting a tired, quiet thought drift towards the feeling he knew was Eddie. -If we get out… If this works. I want to see the sun again. Real sun. Not this flickering artificial bullshit. I don’t care if I get the worst sunburn of my life. I don’t care if I can’t stand it and I overheat, I want to stand in the sun.-

Nothing came back at first.

Then a slow, warm hum. Not words, not yet. But enough.

Steve let himself picture it, just for a second. Eddie beside him, his hair a mess. He was still wearing Steve’s sweater, the sleeves pushed halfway up his arms. His tattoos on display. Laughing at something stupid. Free.

The image cracked something open deep inside him. -Don’t lose the sweater Munson.- No answer. Just a quiet thrum of warmth again.

Steve leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.

They weren’t free yet.

But they were close.

And that was more than he’d had yesterday.

The warmth through the bond faded to a soft, barely there pressure. Present. Quiet. Comfortable. Still there. Steve let it sit with him, let it anchor him as he stared down at his hands, but he wasn’t really looking at them anymore.

He was thinking. About what it meant if this actually worked.

About what came after.

And it scared him more than he expected.

Freedom wasn’t just an escape. It was space. Choice. Responsibility. It was a world that had gone on without them. It was people that had stopped looking. Names that didn’t mean anything outside these sterile grey walls. He could feel that weight beginning to settle at the base of his skull, the kind of pressure that didn’t come from bruises, or drugs, or exhaustion.

What did he even have left out there?

Was he still Steve Harrington out there? Or just another ghost? Just another name written as a victim of Hawkins. Did they make up some cover story for him this time? Did he have some unknown illness that he succumbed to?

The bond stirred again, gently. As if reacting to Steve’s inner panic. A thought drifted in, loose and faint, but real.

‘Still with me Harrington?’

Steve didn’t answer right away. He let his claws come back out before slowly pulling them back in. The faintest of nods accompanying his eventual reply.

-Yeah… Just thinking.-

A pause, but not a cold one. Just the kind of silence where someone waits for you to finish your thoughts.

-I keep wondering.. If we make it out of here, if we actually do it… What the hell are we supposed to do next?-

Another pause. Then-

‘You mean besides the whole surviving and not getting dragged back part?’

Steve huffed softly. It might’ve been a laugh, if it didn’t feel so hollow. -Yeah.. That part too.-

A beat. Then, softer, a quiet response. ‘I don’t know man. Honestly? I haven’t gotten past the door. The idea of it. Of walking.. Running. Out of here and not looking back. That’s the furthest I’ve let myself go.’

Steve could almost see him- arms crossed, staring at his own dirty grey wall. Lips pulled into a line that almost looked like a smile, but wasn’t quite. They probably both seemed crazy to whoever was watching them on the cameras. Maybe it was the scientist . Or maybe just another guard.

-What if it’s not enough?- He asked before he could stop himself. -What if it works out and we escape and.. And there’s just nothing left for us out there?- That one hung in the air between them longer. Long enough that Steve considered trying to force the bond closed himself. To pretend he never said it.

Then Eddie’s voice returned, steady, but quiet. Not jokes this time. ‘Then we build something new. Together.’

Steve closed his eyes. Swallowed hard.

The quiet annoying buzz of the lights overhead suddenly became louder, too loud. His room felt too small again. The air too still. But Eddie’s words didn’t leave him. They curled around his chest like a thread, thin but strong, tethering him in place.

Together.

Steve reached out again, not with words. Just a presence. And Eddie was still there, still a light pressure behind his eyes. A warm feeling in his chest.

They sat like that, in their separate rooms, in silence. Not saying anything else. Not needing to. Just.. Knowing.

Eventually, Steve laid back down, curling onto his side. He let his hand rest over his eyes.

They weren’t free yet.

But maybe… Maybe they would be. Maybe they would be free together.

And maybe. Just maybe, that would be enough.

---

The tray still sat on the edge of his desk near the door, mostly empty. He didn’t remember eating. Only the rhythmic scrape of his fork against the metal, the way he chewed without thinking, without tasting. Like his body had decided on its own to keep going. On autopilot. But Eddie had been right, they didn’t give him any blood.

The room was dim now. The overhead lights not yet fully off, just lowered, muted into a sort of sterile twilight that left the corners of the rooms untouched. He hated this part of the day the most. The waiting. It was almost lights out.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, his hands laced together loosely between them. Waiting.

The bond was quiet. Not closed, it hasn’t yet fizzled back out, maybe it never would. Eddie was likely doing the same. Conserving energy. Keeping his head down. Waiting for Steve to say it was time to act. But he couldn’t. Not tonight. He needed another meal at least. But he was waiting. Not for a shift change, but for lights out.

For the camera to shut down.

Every night, like clockwork. The camera in the corner would click softly and go dark for a handful of seconds. Long enough to breathe. Long enough to move if he was quick enough, careful enough. Long enough to matter. He’d counted it a dozen times by now. Sixteen seconds, give or take. It was all he needed was sixteen seconds. It didn’t feel like a lot but down here, sixteen seconds was everything.

Steve shifted slightly, stretching out his legs. The ache in his side flared up, a stubborn reminder of the last ‘test’. But he didn’t react to it. He couldn’t afford to. The last time the camera had caught him grimacing, they’d logged it and sent him to the labs the next morning for scans. A waste of time, and something he couldn’t afford right now. He’d heal by morning, hopefully, usually. But it was a reminder that they were always watching.

But not for those few precious seconds.

He glanced towards the corner, eyes catching the faint flickering red light.

Still on.

The silence pressed in around him, thick and mechanical. The low hum of the air vent in the halls. The occasional distant clang of a metal door closing. The distant thunk of a lock turning. Somewhere far below, he thought he could still hear the remnants of that earlier chaos. The containment breach. But maybe he was just paranoid.

He rubbed his palms against his sweatpants. Breathed in through his nose. Out through his mouth. This part always made him nervous. The waiting.

What would be waiting for them on the outsi-

The lights suddenly flicked off with a soft click. The camera powering down just for a few seconds, the light disappearing with it.

He didn’t waste a second. But he needed to conserve his energy for what he knew was coming.

He shot off his bed ignoring the ache in his bones. He was faster than a human would be, but slower than he would have liked. Steve crossed the room to the desk in three quiet steps. He knelt down under the desk. With practiced ease he slid the brick from its hold. Instead of putting the keycard inside he took out the key, pocket knife, and packet of gum he stashed in there previously.

He quickly stored them in his pockets. The key going into his sweatshirt to stay close at hand. The pocket knife and gum into his sweatpants. He quickly slid the brick back in and got back onto his bed. Before the camera could power back on he reached into his underwear and grabbed the keycard. It slid in next to the key, the weight felt heavy to him. Like it knew exactly what was going to happen before he did.

Steve took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He could do this. They could do this. He laid down, his back facing the camera when it clicked back on with a quiet whirl. He needed it to look like he went to bed at lights out. So they’d have no reason to suspect anything.

---

Morning came. Or at least what passed for morning in this place.

The lights had clicked back on suddenly. The room being suddenly washed in the sterile bright light without warning. Steve blinked against it, already sitting on the edge of his bed. He hadn’t really slept. Not deeply. Not enough to dream.

Breakfast arrived the same way it always did, through the slot in his door. The metal tray shoved in like he wasn’t standing right there. Scrambled, powdered, eggs. Two pieces of toast, and a pale piece of fruit that might’ve once been able to pass as an apple.

He ate all of it without tasting a thing.

Now the tray sat empty again, pushed neatly aside on the edge of his desk. The room was quiet. The camera in the corner whirred as the lens adjusted with each of his movements, always following.

Steve sat on his bed, The Fellowship of the Ring opened in his hands, thumb holding his place somewhere near the edge. His eyes drifted over the same paragraph again and again without registering the words.

He turned a page, slow, deliberate. The bond buzzed faintly in the back of his head, like a soft knock on a door.

‘You still pretending to read?’

Steve let out a tiny huff of air, no more than a whisper of breath. He kept his expression flat, his face angled just enough to make it seem like he was focused on the page. -Yeah. You’d think they’d be suspicious with how fast I’ve been getting through this thing.-

‘Maybe they think you’re finally learning to enjoy literature. I’m proud of you Harrington.’

-Bite me.- He turned another page, slower this time. Letting the book rest more naturally on his knee.

‘If I could reach you, I would sweetheart.’ Steve blinked several times. The edge of his mouth twitched, just barely.

The silence stretched between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore.

-How’s your room?- He finally asked.

‘Same as yours I assume. Grey and soulless. Like a dentist’s waiting room but occasionally with way more needles.’

Steve snorted softly. The kind of laugh that never made it past his throat. -I miss the sky.- The words slipped past him before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant to say it. He definitely hadn’t meant to send it to Eddie.

The bond was quiet for a second. Then a whispered reply. ‘Yeah. Me too.. I used to sit on the roof of the trailer at night. Just to look up at the stars.’

Steve blinked at his book, slowly. He didn’t see the words. Just thought of the memory of grass. Of summer air. Of a faint breeze coming off the woods behind his house. -When we get out of here… I don’t want to go back to being who I was before.-

‘Yeah?’ Eddie responded, confused.

-Yeah. I mean… I was trying not to be that guy I was in high school. I was doing better. But.. It just still wasn’t real. Not all of it at least. It was more like.. Like a costume. I don’t want that again. I want.. Something quiet. Honest.-

‘Yeah… Yeah okay. Then we’ll find it. You and me. You know.. After we burn this place down.’

Steve smiled again, soft and tired. -Yeah. Alright. You and me.-

He turned another page. But he didn’t read a single word.

But it didn’t matter. Not today.

Today was about pretending.

Tomorrow would be different. It had to be.

---

The rest of the day passed much the same.

Steve pretending to read from his book. His thumb would trace the curve of the spine, muscle memory turning the pages at regular intervals. The camera never stopped watching. It never blinked. So he played the part. Complaint, calm, subdued.

The silence was occasionally broken.

A low comment from Eddie would drift through the bond like a thought half formed. Sometimes it was a joke, dry and sardonic. Sometimes it was nonsense, a hum of a tune, the name of a monster he was trying to remember. Sometimes Steve responded. Sometimes he didn’t.

And sometimes something slipped. A quiet thought Steve hadn’t meant to share. The way his ribs still ached when he breathed in too deep, even though he knew he didn’t need to breathe any longer. How the eggs tasted chalky and like cardboard at the same time. How his legs still trembled slightly, even now.

Eddie never called him out on it. Just listened. Let the quiet admissions hang in the air. It was comfortable.

But the tension was there. Not loud, but steady. A weight behind his sternum that refused to leave. A jitter low in his gut. His hands didn’t shake, but they wanted to. He knew Eddie could feel it too. Could feel the way his thoughts came a little too fast, or not at all. The way he had to keep reminding himself to slow his breathing. The way some of his responses were just a beat too late.

‘You okay?’ Eddie asked, eventually. Quiet. Careful. Like he already knew the answer.

Steve’s eyes flicked to the corner of the room where the camera sat. Still blinking red. Still watching. -Yeah. Just… Waiting.-

A beat passed. Eddie didn’t press him. ‘It’s okay to be scared, you know I am.’

-I know.- He didn’t say he was scared too. He didn’t need to. Eddie already knew. They were sharing the same cage afterall, even if the walls weren’t the same.

The hours dragged. The afternoon faded into something closer to evening. There was no sun to track. Just a clock on the wall that ticked too loud for his enhanced ears.

Dinner came and went. Steve ate in the same quiet routine as before, barely noticing what he was putting in his mouth.

Then it was just him and the book again. The hum of electricity in the walls. The bond, always open now, settled somewhere in the back of his mind like a pulse.

Waiting.

They both were.

---

The next morning came without ceremony. Steve felt there should have been some bigger feeling, something else. Something more.

But the light overhead just flicked on as usual. The same tray slid through the slot in the door. The same food, lukewarm and bland. Steve ate every bite, his hands steady, face unreadable.

He didn’t taste any of it. But his stomach was too tight to care, wound with nerves he couldn’t afford to show. He didn’t pace. Didn’t fidget. Didn’t let his eyes dart toward the camera even once.

He just sat, back straight, posture calm. But inside, his mind was churning. Today. It had to be today.

He kept the thought quiet. Buried. If it spilled through the bond, Eddie didn’t comment. Which meant he probably already knew. But there was nothing either of them could do right now. Nothing left to do but wait.

Wait for what, he wasn’t sure. All he had to do was give the signal and it would be go time. But he just… Steve was scared. He was willing to admit it. What if this was all a lie? What if the man had stopped waiting for his signal?

Steve was staring at his book again. Letting the pages turn when they should. His eyes scanned the lines but he didn’t read them. His heart thudded like a clock winding down. He forced himself to breathe, slowly. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. Let the routine keep him still. Let the stillness keep him safe. He couldn’t afford to slip. Not now. Not when they were this close.

The bond was quiet but present. Like a hand held loosely in the dark. Not speaking, not pressing, just there. It grounded him. Reminded him that he wasn’t doing this alone.

By the time afternoon rolled around he was sitting on the edge of his bed. Book laying forgotten behind him. Not fidgeting. Not pacing. Just waiting.

Calm.

-Eddie?- Steve finally broke their silence as he stared at his hands. He let his claws come out before pulling them back in. He was nervous.

If they didn’t do it today, the scientists would come back. They’d make him dream again. Make him.. They only had one chance at this. One chance to be free. One chance and if they didn’t take it, it was over. He wouldn’t survive another two years of this place. But today he finally felt stronger, more confident.

He glanced up at the clock. Twelve-thirty. Lunch time.

‘Yeah?’ Eddie responded. He sounded.. Steve couldn’t place it.

-I was thinking… It’s time. I’m strong enough now.-

‘Are you sure becau-’

Steve interrupted. -We can’t wait any longer. They certainly won’t. They’ll bring me back there and I.. We need to go. And we need to go now. Are you ready?-

A pause.

Until-

‘Yeah. Yeah Steve let’s do this. Lets get out of here.’

Chapter 20: The Ring Goes South

Summary:

The plan is enacted.
But will the monsters make it out?

Notes:

Warning: Guns, violence, and blood.

My longest chapter yet! Also probably my best!

Steve stood slowly. Defiant. Determined. But utterly bone deep terrified.

He could feel his heart thudding wildly in his chest, too loud in the silence of the room. Every beat like a countdown. This was it. Everything they’d talked about, everything they’d planned in hopes and quiet thoughts, in fear. It all came down to this moment.

No second tries. No resets. If this failed, they wouldn’t get another chance.

He swallowed hard, tongue thick in his mouth. The taste of stale air and nerves clinging to the back of his throat. His stomach twisted painfully, but he didn’t let himself double over. He forced his spine straight, squared his shoulders. He wouldn’t be afraid. Or well he would, but he wouldn’t let it stop him.

This place had taken enough from him. From them.

He was done waiting. Done hoping someone else would save him. Save them.

If they were getting out, it would be by their own hands.

He just hoped the man was still watching the camera. He hoped the signal would be seen. And more than anything. He hoped they would survive this.

He sucked in a deep breath. Turned slowly, deliberately, toward the camera embedded in the wall. The ever watching eye. The leash around his neck. He stared into it, jaw clenched. Every muscle taut with the pressure of the moment. He knew whoever was on the other side, if anyone was still on the other side, was watching. Waiting. Judging whether this was it. Whether the pieces were in place.

He stared up defiantly. He refused to back down. He’d give it everything he had to get them out.

His hand wanted to shake but he didn’t allow it. He wouldn’t.

Steve raised his hand.

Fingers curled.

Thumb lifted.

Just a thumbs up.

Simple. Quiet.

There should have been more to it. A switch. A siren. Some dramatic grand gesture, one final show of rebellion. But in the end, it was just that. An ordinary thumbs up.

One last act of defiance.

One final message, we’re ready.

For a moment nothing happened.

Then suddenly-

The camera’s tiny red light flicked off.

A second later, the overhead lights followed. His room plunged into darkness. One he had no trouble seeing through. And in the silence that followed, Steve heard something that made his breath catch.

The other cameras were shutting off. The other lights clicking off.

One by one. Down the hall. Like dominos falling in the dark.

‘Steve?!’ Eddie’s voice crashed into his head like thunder, raw and frightened.

-It’s time.- He answered, already reaching into his sweatshirt, fingers brushing against the hidden edge of the keycard. Cold and solid against his fingertips. Real.

He stepped toward the door, legs trembling beneath him like he hasn’t used them in years. His whole body felt like it was vibrating, humming with static and adrenaline. And something wild that wanted to bolt in every direction.

He paused, his breath stilling. What if the guards were still outside? He listened carefully. Could still hear their frantic whispers. They were still posted outsi-

As if summoned by his dead, someone barked an order from somewhere down the hall. His heart beating too loud for him to focus on the words. But it didn’t matter right now. He could hear them leaving. Boots pounding against the tile. Running. Away.

The two guards stationed outside his door, always two, always whispering, rushed past. He could hear their hurried footsteps disappearing down the opposite end of the hall. Exactly the way he needed them to go. Away from him. Away from Eddie.

-Hold on Eddie. I’m coming.- Steve pushed through the bond, firm and steady, even if his hands weren’t.

He lifted the keycard.

Found the slot directly under the handle, and slid it in.

Nothing.

He tried it again. In and out. Quickly.

Nothing.

His throat tightened. His hands grew small tremors. No. No no no no. He looked at the keycard, was it fake? Was this all just some-..

Barcode first. He heard the man’s voice echo in his head. The distant memory cutting through his panic. -Idiot.- He thought to himself. He had been too drugged to remember something so important.

He quickly flipped the keycard around and slid in the barcode.

In and out. Quickly.

The door gave a soft click. The lock opening. Thunk. Thunk Thunk.

His fingers tightened around the handle.

This was it. No going back.

He slowly pulled the door open.

And stepped out into the darkness.

The hall was quiet, but thick with tension. Like something waiting to snap. He drew in a slow quiet breath, straining his ears. A faint hum of voices. Whispers. The hurried shuffle of boots. And fear. He could smell it in the air now. Sharp, acidic, and not his. Not entirely.

He was scared, sure. But the fear that hung heavy in the corridor didn’t belong to him. It belonged to them. Those that thought they could keep them caged like animals.

-Eddie’s room.- He shook himself from his thoughts. Focused. Determined. Turning right, away from his own door. Steve squared his shoulders. He tensed for a moment, preparing himself. -All the way to the end, then a right.-

He pushed his body forward, muscles coiled tight, his heart hammering. The hall flew past him in flickers of barely there shadows to his enhanced eyes. He rounded the first corner too fast, nearly slamming himself through the far wall, catching himself on unsteady feet. -Just a little farther.- He pushed through the bond. -Almost there. Almost to you Eddie.- He didn’t care if Eddie could hear the words or just feel the urgency bleeding through. He just needed to make it.

Getting to the end of the hall he skidded to a stop. Forced himself to wait. To listen. If he turned left, Eddie’s room would be the fifth door on the right. But there was a problem. He wasn’t alone anymore.

Voices. Two of them. Hushed, panicked, hissing over each other. The guards. Right outside of Eddie’s room.

He sucked in a silent breath, heart hammering against his ribs. Their words didn’t matter, but the fear in them was easy to read. They knew something was wrong. They were on edge, they were ready.

But Steve didn’t have time to wait them out. He didn’t have any time.

They had guns. He had claws. Speed. Fangs.

It was two against one. It wasn’t a fair fight.

But it didn’t have to be.

It just had to be fast. He just needed to be what they always said he was.. A monster.

He turned the corner. Silent. Swift. Controlled.

The guards didn’t see him at first. He wasn’t close enough, clinging to the shadows. And they were too busy arguing, heads turned towards each other, tense and twitchy.

He was on them in a second.

The first one turned. Too late. Steve slammed into him, tackling him to the wall with brutal force. The man barely had time to raise his weapons before Steve’s claws were out, slicing through thick fabric and skin, sending the gun clattering to the floor. Blood sprayed in an arc as Steve’s claws raked across his chest, his throat. A guttural snarl making its way up his throat.

The other guard shouted. Stumbling back, weapon rising. But Steve didn’t give him the chance.

He moved like a shadow with teeth. A blur of instinct and fury. His body twisted mid air, a feral leap that ended with him slamming into the second guard’s chest.

They crashed to the floor. The man screamed, gun going off once- a deafening roar that missed entirely, ricocheting off the ceiling.

Steve’s hand clamped around the man’s wrist, forcing the weapon down as the other hand, clawed and blooded, ripped the gun away. He bared his teeth, his fangs. His eyes practically glowing in the darkness as he slammed the butt of the stolen weapon against the guard’s temple. Once. Twice. Again and again until the man stopped moving.

Panting, Steve staggered back. Both guards lay in a heap of blood. Unmoving.

He was shaking. Not from fear, not anymore. But from the wild trembling adrenaline of what he’d just done.

Not human. Not anymore.

But free. Almost.

And Eddie-

He turned, fingers scrambling for the keycard again. -Five doors down.- He told himself, steadying his breath. -Fifth door on the right.- He didn’t stop. He didn’t look back. Steve found the door, breath ragged, blood still dying on his hands. He slid the keycard , in and out, fast.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

The door opened with a quiet hiss. He walked in, or would have. But as Steve went to move forward he froze. It was oppressively still. And empty, almost clinically so.

Empty except for him.

Empty except for the chains that rattled gently when the door was opened. They hung above where they were bolted into the ceiling, leading down to a figure kneeling ram rod straight in the center of the room.

Eddie.

He was on his knees, unable to even lean back on his heels. His ankles were stretched out, strapped down away from him. Arms twisted behind his back in cruel high restraints that forced his shoulders into unnatural angels. Those same heavy cuffs from before. The same inhumane muzzle strapped tight to his face. His back was arched just slightly from how high his wrists were drawn. Not enough to suspend him, but enough to steal all relief. To keep him locked in that same torturous pose.

Steve’s breath caught.

Eddie looked up. Slowly.

His eyes found Steve’s- red rimmed, dull with exhaustion. But as he took in the mess standing in the doorway, bloodied, breathing hard, wild eyed. His expression softened.

Eddie’s brows lifted just slightly. The corners of his eyes crinkled. Like he was smiling under that goddamned muzzle. His hair was a mess, wild and nearly matted over. His borrowed sweats had a tear down one leg. The bright yellow sweater, now dull with dirt and grime.

Steve let out a low, guttural growl, from deep within his chest. “Eddie.” He whispered, like a prayer. Like a promise.

He went to step forward, but something inside him just.. Snapped. None of it mattered. Not the tear, not the sweater, not to blood, or the guards. None of it. What mattered was Eddie was here. He was real. He was in front of Steve and he..

Seeing Eddie like this again, shackled. Caged. Treated like some kind of rabid animal when he was the kindest person Steve has ever know-

He didn’t think. He didn’t need to. All he saw were the chains. And the look in Eddie’s eyes.

His hands grabbed the middle of the length of chain, fingers curling around the thick steel.

And he pulled.

Muscles strained, teeth bared, a vicious growl tearing from his throat. The metal groaned in protest, links bending beneath his inhuman strength until-

SNAP!

The chain ripped from the bolt in the ceiling with a scream of torn steel. But Steve didn’t stop. He moved to Eddie’s side. Eddie who fell onto his ass the moment the chain fell. He quickly ripped the cuffs from his ankles, the steel pulling away from the floor as if it were never attached.

Steve, breath ragged. Suddenly grabbed the cuffs binding his wrists behind his back. Eddie made a startled noise behind the muzzle, eyes going wide as Steve grabbed the lock of the steel mold and crushed it. Not cleanly. He used too much force, it caused the mold to scrape his hands, tearing at his skin. But the cuffs bent.

He forced it open with a loud growl of effort and fury. The moment Eddie’s arms fell free, his whole body collapsed forward with a whimper. Steve caught him. Kneeling down to cradle him close with shaking hands.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered fiercely, voice trembling with relief.. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He repeated like a mantra, pressing his face against the side of Eddie’s head.

The muzzle. It shouldn’t still be there.

Steve snarled low in his throat, pulling back. His fingers tried to slip under the tight metal straps, but they wouldn’t budge. So instead, he gripped the front plate. His fingers curling around the edges, nails digging into the slits near Eddie’s mouth. And with a growl, nothing short of rage- he ripped.

The metal gave away with a sharp snap, the pieces falling apart like shattered glass.

Eddie gasped- his fist unfiltered breath in who knows how long. Lips split, jaw aching, but finally free. He sagged forward, collapsing into Steve’s open arms, forehead pressed to his shoulder, shaking like a leaf.

Steve held him tighter. “I’m here.” He whispered. “I’m here. They’re not putting you in that thing again. I swear to God, they won’t.”

He pulled back, just enough to press their foreheads together, rough and ungraceful. His hands gripped Eddie’s arms like an anchor. Their bond thrummed in the space between them- hot, raw, and alive.

Nothing else mattered.

Eddie was here. Eddie was alive. He wasn’t chained anymore. And he never would be again.

They were getting out.

Steve’s voice was quiet, but urgent. “Can you stand?”

“I…” Eddie’s throat clicked as he swallowed, voice sandpaper rough. “I think so?”

Steve rose first, then carefully helped Eddie to his feet. His legs trembled, unsteady. “Why are you.. Why did they do this?” Steve leaned in again, forehead to forehead. He just needed a second. Needed to breathe.

Eddie’s voice cracked as he answered. “I…” Eddie sucked in a short breath, his hands weakly reaching up to grip Steve’s blood soaked sweatshirt. “I just wanted to.. You were gone for days. I got worried I.. I couldn’t. I wanted to. To find you.”

Steve gently pulled back, gaze darting over Eddie’s face. The deep, angry marks the muzzle had left behind. The hollowness in his cheeks. The red rimmed eyes. He looked like he hadn’t eaten. Or slept in days.

Eddie looked away, eyes cast down. “I tried to pull it off.. Our plan. It was.. You were right. It was stupid, risky. It was.. It was a trap. And I-”

A loud clang shattered the moment as the alarm system flared to life, bathing the room and hall in a bright red strobe.

“Shit.” Steve breathed, heart lurching. “Tell me later. We need to move.” Eddie nodded sharply.

Steve took his hand, gripping it like a lifeline. He wasn’t letting go. Not now. Not ever again. “We have to.. I know how to get there from the showers which.. We need to. To loop back to my room.” He took a shaking breath in, trying to steady himself.

“Okay.: Eddie rasped. His knuckles almost white from how tightly he was gripping Steve’s hand.

They slipped from the room together, Eddie glancing back at the guards bodies. But Steve pulled him forward, they had to go. They moved quickly down the hall, pausing at every turn. Steve kept making sure Eddie was okay, that he wouldn’t slow down.

Twice they had to flatten themselves against the wall as groups of guards sprinted past, radios crackling with panicked orders. “Found them!” Someone yelled behind them. They both froze, their grips tightening in fear.

“They’re.. Jesus! One of those monsters ripped them apart!” Steve winced. Eddie looked at him, his expression undreable. But he didn’t flinch away.

“I don’t care.” Steve muttered, voice firm, cold. “They had you like.. That.” Eddie nodded once. Slow. Silent. No guilt in his eyes, just understanding. There wasn’t room for anything else. Not now.

They rounded the last corner toward Steve’s room. It was still too quiet. The door, cracked from when Steve had broken out earlier, stood just as he left it. No guards. No movement. “Come on.” Steve whispered, tugging Eddie along behind him. “It’s… It’s far. But we’ll make it.”

Eddie gave his hand a brief, firm squeeze. “Let’s do this, Harrington.” The name settled between them like armor. Not Steve. Not Stevie. Not until they were free. Steve nodded, just the once. And they started moving.

-Left from my room.-

The emergency lights buzzed overhead, painting their faces in red. The air felt charged, thick with tension and static.

-Right.-

Steve led the way, pausing at every junction. Listening hard for footsteps or nearby orders. Eddie stayed close behind, his breathing steadier now, his legs more confident. His hand never leaving Steve’s.

-Skip.-

They passed the first turn. A shadow darted across the far end of the hall. But it vanished as quickly as it came. Their hearts beating wildly. They didn’t dare speak. Didn’t even think to one another.

-Skip.-

The second turn they ignored, slipping quietly through the gloom. The distant voices of guards making themselves known.

-Right.-

They reached the corner and turned, heart beats drowning out their own quiet footsteps. Steve was counting every step, just to keep himself focused. Eddie’s grip was like iron.

-Skip.-

They moved past another hallway, red lights flickering down its length. Distant yelling. Someone barking orders. A loud slam of a door.

-Left.-

They slipped into a narrow corridor, its walls different from the others. Metal, sweating with humidity. The alarm echoing, bouncing off of it. They were getting closer. Steve could feel it.

-Skip this turn. Skip that turn.-

The last two hallways were quiet. Almost too quiet. Steve didn’t like it, but he kept going. They had to. No hesitation now.

-Right.-

They turned the final corner-

-And skidded to a stop.

They had almost managed it. Almost made it halfway without issue. The showers were just ahead, from there they could continue on right. But there was a problem. A lone guard. Fully armored, weapon raised.

It was too dark, he hadn’t seen them yet. But he would, any second now.

Steve moved before he thought. He shoved Eddie back behind the wall, throwing up his arms to protect-

Too slow.

Eddie was already moving. A blur of speed and fury, too fast to track. Steve barely saw him leap, just a growl and the crash of bodies as Eddie slammed into the man. The gun clattered across the floor.

There was a snarl, something primal and raw.

And then-

Silence.

Steve rushed forward. The guard was down. Blood on the wall. His throat-

“Eddie.” Steve breathed, grabbing his shoulders. Eddie blinked up at him, dazed. His mouth was dripping red. His fangs still bared.

“I..” Eddie started. Then swallowed thickly. “That was.. Really violent.” His voice shook. Just a little. Steve didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, he reached out and cupped the back of Eddie’s neck. Pulling him in close until their foreheads touched. He just breathed in for a second. The scent of Eddie, their fear, the scent of blood. Letting it ground him.

“You kept us safe. Kept us alive.” He whispered. “You saved me.” He added when there was no response. At that Eddie slowly let out a shaky breath and nodded, just once. Closing his eyes.

“We need to move.” Steve added, his voice just as quiet. They couldn’t stop to breathe. Not now. Not when they still had to run. Steve spared a single glance at the downed guard before tugging Eddie forward again.

Blood still dripped from Eddie’s jaw, his fangs only half retracted. He wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of Steve’s ruined sweater. But the blood just smeared across his face. Neither of them said anything else. They couldn’t afford to.

Steve tugged Eddie onward. -Right.-

The hallway beyond the showers was narrowed, more sterile. Red warning lights flickering sporadically. Somewhere behind them, the alarm still echoed, but it was fainter now. Either they were getting deeper… Or the facility was saving power for something worse.

-Skip that turn. Skip this turn.-

Steve moved quickly, counting turns under his breath. Eddie stuck close behind him, breathing hard but steady. Their bodies forcing them to breathe to keep the panic at bay. They passed another empty hallway.

-Skip here too.-

Footsteps.

Steve froze. Pulling Eddie into a shallow storage recess carved into the wall. Just in time.

Two guards swept past, walking fast, rifles ready. But they weren’t looking for them here, hidden in the dark. They were headed in the opposite direction, towards the showers, the way they had just come. Steve held his breath, arm across Eddie’s chest. Keeping them both flush against the wall.

The guards passed.

Silence.

Eddie turned his head just slightly, lips brushing Steve’s ear. “Close call there Harrington.”

Steve exhaled, slowly. “Yeah.. Let’s keep moving, Munson.” He gave a weak smile as they peeled themselves from the wall.

-Left.-

The warning lights grew further and further apart. Everything around them hummed with power, like they were brushing against the nerve center of this place.

-Not here. Not here either.-

They were halfway there when Steve came to a sudden stop again, holding his hand out to stop Eddie. A door up ahead clicked open. And out stepped a full squad of guards.

-Eight.. No, ten.-

He looked around frantically. -There!- He yanked Eddie into the shadows of a maintenance room. The door having been thrown open in a hurried search. They didn’t dare try and close it. They crouched behind the doorway, hopefully hidden in the shadows. Steve’s arm tightly around Eddie’s middle. Holding him plastered tight against his chest.

Boots. Loud and heavy as they marched down the hall. Voices. Low, angry.

“Looks like they’re headed to the command floor.” A gruff voice announced. “They left a trail… Riled said he found claw marks in the floor paneling near Sector three.”

“Orders?” Another asked.

“Shoot on sight.” Steve’s throat clenched. Eddie’s hand found his again, gripping tight. One by one, the soldiers moved past them. Heavy boots. Clicking metal. They soft whirr of guns at the ready.

They didn’t look over. They didn’t look down.

They didn’t see them.

The last guard turned the corner. Gone. Safe. For now. Steve didn’t breathe until five full seconds passed. Then he leaned in, whispering to Eddie. “That’s close call number two.. I think.. I think that scientist is leading them away from us.”

He could feel Eddie swallow. Could feel when he took a shaky deep breath. “Yeah lets.. Let’s make use of it.” Steve nodded, getting back up. He reached out to help Eddie up, their fingers interlocking.

They quickly got back out into the hall. -Left.-

They moved again, faster now. The lights were somehow back on down here. Or maybe they never fully turned off- casting long, dim shadows that made the sterile hallways feel haunted. But the corridor ahead was familiar. Steve remembered this path. Pale grey walls. Evenly spaced out doors with frosted glass panels. Offices. Labs. They were close.

-Right…. Skip.. Not here.. One more.-

Then the sound hit them. A head thud, slow and methodical. Thump…. Thump…. Thump….

Steve turned sharply. Just in time to see him. A six foot nine heavily armored guard storming down the hall behind them. Tactical vest, reinforced helmet, flashlight slashing through the shadows. A walking wall. His boots landed like weights with every step.

Steve swallowed hard, somehow they hadn’t been seen yet. But their luck was running out. “Shit.” He hissed. “Go. Just.. Just run! Until the end of the hall!”

They both took off down the hall. The man letting out a loud “HEY!” When he finally noticed them. They didn’t stop. A loud crack, a pop of gunfire. Steve ducked instinctively, the bullet hissing past his ear and smashing into the wall ahead of them. Concrete dust exploding into the air. Too close. Too fast.

But they couldn’t stop. Didn’t stop. Steve reached out, gripping Eddie’s hand just in time to yank him out of the way, as another shot fired. This one so close it buried itself in the wall exactly where Eddie’s head had been half a second before.

The hallway blurred around them as they ran. Steve’s heart pounded, his legs burning. He wanted to speed up, he knew Eddie did too. But they needed their energy for the stairs. For the climb up the vents. So they continued on, the guard growing closer.

And then- there.

They paused as they came to the end of the hall, the door where Brenner had once offered him breakfast and false kindness. His stomach twisted just thinking about it. They didn’t have a lot of time, the guard behind them thunder down the hall. He strained his ears, to listen for the rushing water. His eyes flitted around. -There!-

Without thinking he yanked Eddie to the right. Their heart beats never slowing, their bodies forced to breathe as the guard was closing in on them. A low growl of frustration came from behind them. The guard was almost on them. Until-

Steve’s eyes widened when the rushing picked up, got louder. He didn’t hesitate. He slammed open the nearest unmarked door and shoved Eddie through. He dove in after, slamming the door shut and throwing his weight against it. His eyes quickly scanned the room, breath ragged. He needed something. Anything. To hold the door.

But Eddie was already moving. Already had the same thought.

Without a word, Eddie turned toward a tall metal shelf, ignoring the boxes stacked on it. With a grunt, he shoved it over, the crash rattling the room. Steve winced, if the other guards didn’t know where they were. They did now. But he didn’t stop him. There was a second one that Eddie pushed over as well, using it to barricade them in.

They looked at each other for just a moment. Just a second.

Eddie’s chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths. His face pale beneath the blood drying along his jaw. But they looked at each other. And Steve smiled, a laugh bubbling out of his throat. It was shaky, half crazied, but real.

“There.. There should be.” He started, and then his eyes caught on it. “There!”

In the back left corner, partially obscured by stacked crates, was a vent. A large industrial one, cover already removed and lying on the floor like someone had wanted it to be seen. Steve flinched as the pounding against the door resumed. Louder. Angrier. He could hear reinforcements. More boots slamming down the hallway toward them.

Steve walked over and dropped to one knee, yanking the crated out of the way. He peered inside the vent. “A little narrow. But we can manage. Might just squeeze our shoulders a little.” He turned back to look at Eddie.

Eddie who didn’t respond, but he nodded. Just the once, jaw clenched. But there was a flicker of resolve in his eyes. Blood crusted at the corners of his mouth. He looked ragged, ruined.

But alive.

Steve leaned back in toward the vent, bracing one hand against it as he looked back.”I’ve got you.” Eddie nodded again, firmly. More determined as he walked over. “You go first. I’ll catch you if you fall. I promise.” With one last final nod Eddie kneeled down, one hand inside the vent.

Another, louder, more urgent bang sounded against the door. They both flinched, but Eddie continued forward. “Any type of gas comes out of you Munson and I’m pushing you back down this vent, got it?” He joked trying to lighten the mood. To get Eddie to say something, anything.

Eddie let out a small chuckle as he disappeared into the vent. “Yeah, yeah Harrington. No passing gas. Got it.” Steve quickly followed behind him as the shelves rattled violently.

The door wouldn’t hold forever.

But for now-

They were moving forward.

---

It was hot.

Hot wasn’t the right word. It was sweltering. Closer. Suffocating. Like breathing through a wool blanket inside a furnace. But Steve didn’t have the space to dwell on it. His claws scraped into the metal again with a screech, piercing the next joint for leverage. “Shouldn’t have worn the damn sweatshirt.” He muttered through clenched teeth, sweat dripping off his brow and into his eyes.

“Probably not.” Eddue mumbled, his breath ragged and loud. His voice echoed faintly in the narrow metal tunnel. “Would rather have had a sewer. Honestly.”

Steve snorted, but it sounded more like a wheeze. They’d been climbing for forever. Or maybe it just felt that way. The metal walls vibrated with each movement, amplifying the creaks and groans of their slow ascent. Eddie had slipped twice already. But Steve had caught him both times. No hesitation. His grip like iron.

“Think I’m gonna hurl.” Eddie said suddenly, the words bouncing weakly off the vent walls.

“You throw up on me Munson, and I swear I’ll leave you here to rot.” Steve groaned again as his foot slammed against the metal, his body lifting another inch.

“I said think, not will.” Eddie muttered, and let his forehead thunk against the metal wall. “It’s just fuckin’ hot.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Steve blinked away the sting in his eyes and peered upward. Then, finally, he saw it. A faint curve of light. A bend in the vent that ended in a slitted grate. He could’ve wept. “Almost there.” He breathed. “There’s the final vent up ahead.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Eddie hissed, louder now. But he still wasn’t looking up, like if he moved his head he would slip down again. They forced themselves higher, muscles burning, joints screaming with effort. One foot. One hand. One scrape and pull at a time.

When Eddie finally reached the end, he shifted awkwardly, elbowing the grate the best he could. It gave a little. Just enough. “Hold on.” He whispered, and then lifted one of his legs up, balancing precariously. With a groan, he pushed.

And it burst open with a loud clang.

Eddie slithered out first, collapsing onto the floor with a groan like he’d just been reborn. Steve followed, slithering out and landing onto his hands with a grunt. Steve looked around. They were inside some kind of utility room. Low lights flickered above, casting everything in a sickly yellow. The floor was cold, tile. Damp in places. Pipes ran along the wall and ceiling, some leaking, some steaming.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie popped his T. “I never want to see another air vent again.”

Steve had to agree with him. He leaned down, weakly helping Eddie up, his claws quickly retracting. Breath finally steadying as he breathed in the, still stale, but fresher air. He scanned their surroundings. “We need to find the stairs.” He said quietly.

Eddie nodded, wiping his face on the sleeve of his ruined sweater. “You see any kind of map?”

Steve shook his head. “No. No signage. Not yet.” His voice dropped lower. “And I don’t know this level either.”

They were on a completely new floor, hopefully the one they needed. He narrowed his eyes, stopping his breath to listen closer. No footsteps. No voices. Just the hum of old wiring and the slow drip of condensation. Steve reached for Eddie’s hand out of instinct, and Eddie didn’t hesitate. Their fingers laced as they made their way out of the room and through the new corridor. Each footstep soft but sure.

Around the corner, a metal sign bolted to the wall. Steve breathed a sigh of relief.

“RESTRICTED ACCESS - SUB LEVEL NINE; MAINTENANCE”

His eyes zeroed in on a piece of paper sticking out of the corner of the sign. With a shaking hand he reached for it. Smudged, half torn. A folded piece of paper with the small writing ‘Harrington’ on it.

“Is that-?” Eddie began. Steve flicked open the small piece of paper. It had two dots on it and a clearly outlined path. ‘You are here’ and ‘Stairwell C’.

“Yeah.. Yeah it’s.. He left us a map.” He wanted to cry. They could do this. They had to do this.

Steve traced the path with their joined hands. Two turns. “Left. Skip.. Skip.. Right.” He whispered. “It’s close.”

Eddie nodded once. Steve quickly glanced at him. They could do this. They’d finally get out of here.

They moved quickly, like shadows sliding past the flickering lights overhead.

Somewhere below them, alarms had started up again.

But up here?

It was too quiet.

And somehow that was worse.

---

The hallway stretched ahead in eerie silence, lit only by the flickering overhead lights. They moved as quickly as they dared. Silent, swift, barely breathing, only to make sure they weren’t alone. Steve’s hand was still laced with Eddie’s, and neither of them were willing to let go.

“Left.” Steve whispered as they were coming up to a turn.

“Skip.” He muttered as they passed a four way break in the hall. Pipes gurgling noisily from an open door.

Another skipped turn and then-

“Right.” The corridor narrowed, the air growing heavy, damp. There, tucked at the very end of the hall behind a thick grey door marked Stairwell C, was their way up. They made their way over quickly, silently. Steve grabbed the handle and pulled.

It didn’t budge.

“Shit. Wait.” He reached around until he found a keypad on the opposite wall. The screen was cracked. But he pushed at the numbers anyway. It gave a pathetic beep before the light finally blinked out.

“Fucking.. Broken.” Eddie whispered, glancing behind them nervously.

Steve didn’t answer. He allowed his claws to slip back out. His mouth tightening. With a low growl, he shoved his hand into the seam between the door and frame. With a twist and a deep groaning wrench of metal, the latch snapped loose.

The door creaked open.

“Remind me never to piss you off.” Eddie mumbled as they stepped inside.

Steve smiled looking back at him. “Trust me.. I will.” He looked around. The stairwell was narrow, lit by a single overhead bulb that buzzed faintly. Rust stained the corners of the walls. The smell of old concrete and stagnant air clung to the place.

Steve looked up.

And up.

And up.

“Jesus.” Eddie whispered. The staircase spiraled on forever, steel and grey, each level marked with faded, spray painted numbers on the wall. Just ahead of them in faded red:

“Sub Level Nine.” Steve’s stomach sank. “We need the parking garage on level six that’s.. I might’ve lied to you. Only thirteen.. Fourteen flights? Well.. Seeing how long some of these are I’d say.. I think we’ve established I'm not good at math Munson. But it… It seems like between each floor is at least three or four flights so… Fuck!”

Eddie groaned. “... You’re kidding right?”

Steve turned back giving him a flat look. “You think I’d joke now?”

Eddie slumped against the railing. “Thirteen. Fourteen. One hundred. Doesn’t matter. You’re outta your mind Harrington.”

Steve turned around, something strange flickering in his eyes- like hope strangled by exhaustion. “I know you’re tired. I am too. But we’re not stopping. Not here. They’re not throwing us back in a cage.”

Eddie looked at him for a long moment, eyes dark, face unreadable. Then he straightened up. “Yeah.. Yeah, okay.” He flexed his hands, claws already sliding free, his jaw set like iron. “If we need to do fourteen. We do fourteen. We need to do a million… I’ll complain about it later.”

Steve nodded, letting his claws out as well. They stared up the stairs. One step at a time.

Every creak of the metal beneath their feet echoed into the silence. Every heartbeat drummed louder in their ears.

They were going to make it.

They had to.

The first few flights were manageable. Gruling, sure. Each step felt like hauling a boulder. But adrenaline kept them moving. Steve could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, sweat soaking through the back of his ruined sweatshirt. Eddie wasn’t going much better, wheezing softly every few landings, but he didn’t complain. Not once.

By the seventh floor, their pace had slowed. Their steps were heavier. Each landing felt like a victory, though a hollow one. Every turn of the stairwell was the same peeling paint, buzzing lights, the echo of metal under their feet.

Steve pressed a hand to the wall, head down, breath shallow. “You good?” He asked, not looking at Eddie.

“Define good.” Eddie rasped beside him, gripping the rail hard enough that it groaned underneath him, threatening to dent. “I’m upright, not bleeding out. So… Probably have to go with.. Better than I was earlier but.. Feeling like shit.”

Steve let out a breath that could’ve been a laugh. Could’ve been a sob. “Okay. Let’s.. Let’s keep going.”

They pushed forward.

Around the ninth flight, Steve suddenly threw an arm out, stopping Eddie cold. “Wait.” He whispered. “Do you hear that?”

They both froze, breaths held.

From somewhere above. Metal clanged. Sharp and loud. The unmistakable sound of boots hitting stairs.

But then it faded off. Distant. Echoes bouncing from another stairwell, maybe even another floor.

Steve’s hand lingered in front of Eddie’s chest. “False alarm.” He muttered. But they stayed still for another full minute before continuing.

By the twelfth flight, Eddie was limping. Every step looked like a new wound. Steve wasn’t doing any better. He’s gone quiet, jaw tight, hand occasionally resting on the wall for balance. Their claws having retracted a while ago, too tired to stay sharp.

Then. On the thirteenth floor. Steve stopped again.

“Cameras.” He breathed out.

Eddie blinked, dazed. “What?”

Steve reached over and slowly turned Eddie’s head. “They’re back on. That one..” He pointed up to the next set of stairs. A red light blinking on the camera mounted just above the landing. “That one wasn’t on a minute ago.”

Eddie swore under his breath. “Do you think they-?”

BOOM.

The stairwell door above them exploded open.

Shouts rang out. Heavy boots pounded down the stairs towards them.

Steve yanked Eddie back instinctively, trying to shove him down the flight they’d just climbed. But there was no time. From below, another door flew open.

They were surrounded.

“NO!” Steve snarled, claws snapping out as guards grew closer. He didn’t hesitate. He threw himself forward, lunging at the nearest guard, slamming him into the wall. The man crumpled with a grunt, but another took his place. A baton cracked across Steve’s spine. He snarled, twisted, claws slashing blindly. Blood sprayed across his face.

Eddie was right there with him, fangs bared, a growl in his throat. But there were too many. And worse, they were too exhausted. Their bodies dragging from the endless climbing, their limbs heavy and shaking.

A pair of arms wrapped around Eddie, yanking him backwards into the wall. He screamed and kicked, slashing his claws against a visor. It cracked, but not enough. Another guard lunged for Steve, slamming a taser into his ribs. The current tore through him. His scream echoed through the stairwell.

Eddie growled, throwing himself forward, tearing the guards away. Steve didn’t waste the chance and got up quickly, claws catching the throat of the guard in front of him. Both of them stumbled back, regrouping as the guards began closing in.

Steve reached out. Eddie reached out. Their hands met. Fingers clenched tight.

Then-

Suddenly they were being yanked in the opposite directions. Eddie screamed, his claws dragging sparks against the metal railing. Steve twisted violently, tried to reach out, tried to scream but then-

Click.

Steve froze. Mid motion. Mid breath, his scream never making it past his lips. A horrifying stillness flooded through him. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. Panic crushed him. His eyes widened as the holds around him grew tighter. No. No no no no. This isn’t a dream. This wasn’t one of the labs. This was real- he knew it was real. He was so sure this was real. He was so-. He could read. He could read the signs so this.. This was real.. So why couldn’t he move?

Somewhere behind the static in his head, he could feel Eddie down their bond, screaming his name. It felt like pressure building in his skull. But he couldn’t respond. He couldn’t move.

And then she appeared. A woman in a white lab coat stepped into view, descending the stairs like this was a goddamn lecture hall. Her heels clicked against the concrete. Her lips curled.

“Well.” She said smoothly, her voice echoing through the stairwell. “This was a nice surprise. Good training for our boys though.” Steve recognized her. She’d been in several of his previous labs. She’d smiled just like that while they’d strapped him down.

She held up a syringe, flicking it with practiced fingers. “But all good things must come to an end.” She said.

Steve wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. He wanted to rip her apart. But his body was paralyzed. Every limb locked.

He could hear Eddie, yelling his name out loud now. Screaming for him. Steve moved his shoulder, a growl building in his throat. The woman pulled out a pen like device from her coat.

Click.

She smiled wider when he didn’t move again. “Aren’t you just a well trained little monster?” She mocked. Steve’s eyes darted over to Eddie. Eddie who went quiet. The bond suddenly silent. But ice cold. His face pale. Wide eyed and terrified.

Eddie stood frozen, but conscious. Not the same way Steve was. He was being held back while a guard was approaching him with a new muzzle.

“No-” Eddie whispered out quietly.

The woman came closer toward Steve, syringe at the ready. “Time for your fun to end.”

“Please.” Eddie breathed, barely audible. Begging.

It was like everything crashed into him at once, and something inside Steve shattered.

He’d swore.

He swore!

Swore to Eddie they’d never put a muzzle on him again. Something inside him snapped. He was no longer frozen in fear. His body moved before his mind did.

With a snarl, he ripped his arms forward. The guards behind him flying forward over the railing with the force of it. He slammed his shoulder into the woman, sending her tumbling hard down the stairs. The syringe shattering in her descent.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t think. Claws tore through kevlar. Throats. Arms. Helmets. He was an avalanche of rage, of claws, teeth, and fire. Guards fell around him like paper. Blood sprayed in arcs across him, across the walls.

But there were too many. And he was too tired. Exhausted from everything they’ve been through today.

He wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t going to make it.

He needed to get to Eddie. He needed to-

A shot.

He turned toward Eddie- just in time to see it.

Time slowed. The fear on Eddie’s face. The smoke curling from the barrel. The bullet flying straight for Eddie’s forehead.

Hands grabbed at Steve from behind.

No.

A pressure building in his chest.

Steve sucked in a deep breath. And he screamed.

A sound so raw it didn’t feel human.

And the pressure exploded. It was like something broke free as it clawed its way up and out of his throat.

Power ripped through the air like a tidal wave. Guards were flung backwards. Concrete cracked. The bullet seemed to stop mid-air, reversed, and slammed back and through the shooter’s skull.

He was screaming. His throat shredding itself with the force. And then-

Silence. Just as soon as it began. It was over.

And then, the guards were gone. Crushed, scattered, bleeding out, or worse. The stairwell was littered with bodies.

The building pressure eased as Steve stood there shaking, panting, throat raw and burning.

He lifted his head. Eddie was still standing.

Alive. Eyes wide. Terrified. Covered in blood.

But alive.

And Steve feels.. He didn’t think.

He crossed the space between them in two heavy steps, grabbed the front of Eddie’s blood covered sweater, and yanked him forward.

Their mouths collided. Not soft. Not gentle. Bruising. Desperate. Everything fell quiet. Only the sound of the breaths between them, harsh and uneven.

Steve pulled back, slowly. Panting hard. His hands slid from Eddie’s sweater, falling limp at his sides.

Eddie stared at him. Eyes full of unshed tears. Still trembling.

Eddie who opened his mouth, and all that came out was a broken, whispered. “We need to go.”

Steve just nodded, and they turned for the next flight of stairs.

They didn’t speak. There wasn’t the time or the energy for it. Steve just grabbed Eddie’s wrist and pulled him forward. Their feet pounding against the stairs- unsteady, stumbling. His muscles burned with each motion. Blood, sweat, maybe even tears. It all blurred together. He didn’t care.

They were moving.

Flight after flight. The walls were stained with blood and things he didn’t want to think about. Every landing marked by torn railing, broken glass, and the stairwell full of the metallic stench of blood. Eddie stumbled on the third step of the next level, his hand slipping off the broken railing before Steve caught him, pulling him upright again.

“Keep going.” Steve rasped, voice hoarse from screaming. “Just.. Keep going.” Eddie didn't answer. But he didn’t stop. His legs were shaking. His breath wheezed in and out, shallow and desperate.

Level Four.

Level Five.

“Almost there.” Steve muttered. It sounded like a lie, even to him.

They paused for half a second. Steve with his back pressed against the cracked concrete wall. Eddie bent forward, hands on his knees, chest heaving.

Thump…. Thump…. Thump. Heavy boots echoed up the stairwell. Distant. But fast.

Eddie’s head snapped up. Steve’s claws came out on instinct. But the sound shifted, echoed strangely. It wasn’t in this stairwell. Not yet. “Go!” Steve hissed, pushing himself off the wall, dragging Eddie back into motion. Until-

Level Six.

The final door loomed in front of them, grey steel and heavily reinforced. But locked.

With a growl Steve threw his shoulder into it, and the handle gave way with a clang, the door slamming open into-

The parking garage.

Steve took a deep breath, concrete but fresh air. The evening sun giving off a dim lighting. Rows of cars. Cement pillars stretching out like a maze. A low hum buzzed from overhead fluorescent lights.

They both froze for half a breath, eyes scanning. No immediate guards in sight. But behind them- shouts. A door slamming open below them.

“There!” Eddie gasped, pointing to a wide opening at the far end- dark trees visible just past the edge of the structure. Steve didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Eddie’s hand and ran.

Not long after boots hit the cement where they had been standing. Yells erupted. The cold garage air bit at their sweat drenched skin, but they didn’t stop. They couldn’t stop.

Cars blurred past them- black SUV’s, old sedans, maintenance vans. Gun shots cracked behind them. Concrete chipped near their feet. “Like fucking storm troopers.” Steve grunted out. He thought he heard Eddie laugh but-

Suddenly Steve wrenched Eddie around a support pillar just as another shot rang out. They crashed against the hood of a car, then shoved off again, sprinting harder. If you asked him how he knew to do that, Steve would have no idea what you meant.

His lungs burned. Eddie was limping again. Steve wanted to carry him- almost stopped to. But then they were there. At the edge. The garage ended in a single lane road that curved off to the right. But it wasn’t the road they needed, it was the woods.

“Go!” Steve growled, pushing Eddie forward. He tripped, landing hard on his knees. But he scrambled back onto his feet. No words. Just breath. Just movement.

They ran.

Straight out of the garage and into the woods. Into the cover of shadows. Thick branches lashed at their arms. Roots caught their feet. But they didn’t stop. Behind them, guards reached the garage edge. But they didn’t follow. Not immediately.

But it was too late.

Steve and Eddie were already gone.

Swallowed by the forest.

The only sound now was the crunch of leaves and their gasping breaths. And the pounding of their hearts.

Still alive.

Still running.

But free.

For now.

Chapter 21: Farewell to Lorien

Summary:

They did it. They actually...
Somethings wrong.

The forest was silent.

Too silent.

They had run for what felt like hours. Their bare feet pressing into soft earth, step after step, the adrenaline quickly fading into fatigue. Steve could still hear the pounding of their footsteps from before- phantom echoes behind his ears. But now it was just them.

Distantly he could hear birds chirping. Their calls dying down as the sun began to set. These woods were deep and old, the kind that swallowed outside sounds and scattered light.

But neither of them trusted the quiet.

Steve kept glancing back. Each new sound, a snap of a twig, or a rustle of leaves had his claws popping out. But his hands shook now. The adrenaline leaving behind a bone deep ache in its absence.

The blood he was covered in had dried and begun flaking off, an uncomfortable tightness from it on his knuckles. His ribs ached from where the taser had hit. His entire body pulsed with tension.

And he knew Eddie couldn’t have been much better. His back having slammed into concrete. His knees hitting the ground, hard. The position he was forced to hold in his cell. Because it wasn’t a room. Wasn’t even close. That was a prison.

Steve sucked in a shallow breath, unneeded now that the panic has passed. But the paranoia dug deeper with every step.

No shouts.

No boots.

No guards.

“We need to just go as straight as possible.” He finally muttered, voice gravel thick. Each word pulled like an open wound after his scream. “He said we’d find a road and to just.. Wait.” Eddie nodded stiffly, but didn’t speak.

So they trudged on. The sun occasionally making its way through the branches, just barely enough to let them know the time. Occasionally they had to climb over a fallen tree or around a hole in the ground. But they weren’t running anymore. However, neither of them dared to stop.

Each twig made Steve flinch. Each gust of wind made Eddie’s shoulders jerk.

They moved with purpose. But their heads kept swiveling like prey animals. Steve hated that feeling. He hated how familiar it was these days.

Eventually. Finally. After what felt like hours of walking, the woods began to thin out. A slope angled downward. Steve let out a slow breath as they stood staring at the tree line, just out of sight. He risked a glance towards Eddie.

He looked awful. His curls were limp with sweat and grime, half clumped together. Smears of dried blood caked across his face. He was still limping, but more from exhaustion than an injury. And he had an arm slung across his ribs like something was broken.

But it wasn’t that that made Steve pause. Because he knew he looked equally as bad.

It was the distance.

Eddie hadn’t looked at him once since they’d run out of that parking garage. Not once. His gaze stayed fixed forward, or on the ground. His jaw was tight. His whole body stiff, like he was holding something back.

And it hurt.

Steve opened his mouth, trying to find the words. Something. Anything.

But nothing came. Just the forest, whispering around them.

“Not the road.. Just a creek.” Eddie finally muttered, barely above a breath. Still not looking at him. “Road might be nearby. Could stop for a second.. Get the blood off our faces. Then keep going.”

“Yeah.” Steve said, voice low. “Okay. Sure. Good idea.” But he didn’t move.

He just watched Eddie take a few steps ahead of him, the tension radiating off him in waves.

Steve’s fingers twitched to reach out. -That kiss… God! The kiss!-

He hadn’t meant to do it like that. -But everything had just been too much. The running, the vent, the ambush, the syringe, the muzzle.. Eddie’s fear. The look in his eyes when they’d almost..-

He swallowed hard. He’d been terrified. He still was. And for that one second, all he wanted was to feel something else. Anything else. Anything real that wasn’t fear or pain.

And for a second, he’d thought maybe Eddie had needed it too. Wanted it.. Wanted him.

But now..

Now Eddie wouldn’t even look at him.

Steve’s chest tightened. He started after Eddie. -What if.. What if he doesn’t even like guys and I..- He followed through the last set of thick trees. Ducking under a set of low branches. -What if I was reading it wrong and now everything’s..- He stepped over a cluster of large roots. -What if he doesn’t want me around him anymore?-

They pushed past the trees and down the small slope, stopping at the edge of the creek. The water ran clear and cold, rushing over smooth stone and packed earth. The kind of silence that hung here felt older than them both- deep and patient and unbothered by the mess of blood and grime they brought with them.

Eddie moved first, sinking to his knees at the water’s edge. He didn’t hesitate. He plunged his hands in and scrubbed hard at his knuckles, his face, the dried blood flaking off into the water. His movements were fast. Efficient. Like if he moved quickly enough, he could scrub away everything they’d just been through.

Steve watched him for a second longer. Then dropped to his knees beside him. The cold hit like a shock to the system. He hissed quietly as he submerged his hands- his knuckled scraped raw, skin torn from both the struggle and the wayward branches. But he scrubbed anyway. Watched the water bloom red for a moment before it faded downstream.

The silence between them stretched heavily again.

Steve kept his head down, rinsing the blood from his face. From his hair. He didn’t stop until the small reflection, muddy and scattered, stared back at him, pale and tired. Eyes too wide. Lips faintly swollen.

He glanced sideways, just a flicker.

Eddie was still focused on his hands. Jaw clenched. Shoulders stiff. Avoiding him completely.

“Hey.” Steve said quietly.

Eddie didn’t respond.

Steve looked back down at the water. He let out a slow, audible breath. “... I didn’t mean to make it weird.” He added, voice barely louder than the creek itself. “Back there. The kiss. I just…”

He stopped. Ran a wet hand back through his hair. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Eddie froze. Just for a second. Then, slowly, he stood. Wiping his hands off on his torn sweatpants. He still didn’t look at Steve. “I know.” Eddie said, voice hoarse. “It’s not… I’m not mad. Just…” He trailed off. Swallowed. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel right now.”

Steve nodded, eyes back on the creek. “Yeah… Me neither.”

The silence returned. But this time, it didn’t feel quite so permanent. The birds slowly fell silent around them. The sky above the canopy growing darker by the minute. At least they could see in the dark. The guards couldn’t.

Steve stood slowly. His whole body ached. He cast a glance down the creek before turning to look through the trees ahead. Hoping the road was close. Hoping the scientist kept his word. Hoping the silence between them wouldn’t stretch again into something permanent.

“The road.. It’s gotta be close now.” He murmured. Eddie nodded. Still quiet. But this time he looked at Steve, just briefly. Their eyes met before he broke away.

It was a start.

---

They crouched low at the tree line, only breathing to scent the air, muscles taut with anticipation.

The sky above them was near black, heavy with clouds that swallowed the moon, and kept them hidden in the night. Only a scatter of faint stars blinked through the veil, doing little to light the path ahead. Everything else was darkness- thick, still, and endless. It was perfect for them.

The woods behind them felt like a wall, pressing close. The trees cracked softly in the breeze, their branches whispering against one another like they were trading secrets in the dark. The only movement was the occasional rise and fall of their shoulders, or one of their feet shuffling to fight off stiffness.

Steve’s eyes scanned the sliver of road ahead, they were just out of sight from any prying eyes. The road was just wide enough for a single car. The kind of road someone might use to hide something they weren’t supposed to be doing. Like keeping the two of them trapped and tortured in a lab.

He glanced at Eddie, who was crouched beside him. One arm pressed against the trunk of a tree. His eyes never left the road, both of their ears straining for any sign of life. That same tension sat in his shoulders, high and tight like it had been since the kiss, since the escape, since everything. But now there was something else to- something more than just fear. It was hope. Sharp edged and wary, but it was there.

They were so close.

But still, no sign of the man who promised to find them. No headlights. No voices. Nothing.

Steve felt like he was vibrating from the inside out. If this was another trick… Another lie. -Please.. Please just let this be real.-

Suddenly-

A crunch of gravel in the distance. Low at first. A steady hum following behind it. The sound slowly growing closer.

A car.

The two of them sank lower, pressing into the thick underbrush. Eddie’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm, pulling him down further as they both waited, watched. The vehicle was coming from the direction of the lab. Not ahead of them. Behind.

Steve’s heart picked up again. -No. No no no no.-

He could hear the gravel crunching louder now, the slow roll of tires. The headlights hadn’t yet come around the curve. But the engine was getting louder, clearer. They didn’t dare speak.

Eddie’s eyes met his- wide, sharp, warning. Steve nodded once.

They held still.

The underbrush shifted slightly as the breeze picked up, cool and sharp against their skin. It would have felt good if his heart wasn’t hammering in his chest, loud enough he was sure the car would hear it. Steve could feel his bruises aching again, too exhausted to heal properly. Every nerve in his body was screaming. -More blood.. Would fix this.- His thought came slow and sluggish as headlights slowly came around the corner.

Too slow.

It was a black van. Blacked out windows, no specific markings, no front plates. It slowed as it approached a spot near the tree line. Right where they were hiding.

Steve’s stopped breathing. -They know.. They found us.-

The engine idled. Then. The driver’s side door opened.

A man stepped out.

Not a guard. Not the woman. No body armor. No baton. He looked… Familiar?

He stood there in a plain grey sweater, black pants. And a baseball cap pulled low.

The man slowly stepped a few feet from the van. His hands were clearly visible. Empty. He looked around slowly, cautiously. Then he faced the trees, speaking softly. “Harrington?”

Steve didn’t move. Not yet.

The man waited a second, then continued. “We don’t have long. If you’re out there, now’s the time.”

Still nothing.

Then he turned, glanced behind him at the road, and said in an even lower voice. “I can wait sixty more seconds. Then I have to go. You know what they’ll do to you if they catch you out here. You know what they’ll do to him.” Eddie’s hand clenched around Steve’s wrist.

Steve didn’t hesitate anymore. He recognized the voice. It was him. The scientist. The one who gave him the keycard, their escape route.

Slowly he rose out of the tree line, hands lowered at his sides. “Yeah.. I’m here.”

The man didn’t flinch. Just looked him over, and nodded. “Did Munson make it out with you?” -As if I’d leave him behind.-

Eddie stood up, coming to stand beside him, nervous. “Yeah.”

The man jerked his head toward the van. “Get in the back. Quickly.”

Eddie hesitated, just for a second. But Steve was already moving, staying low as he jogged over to the road and across the van. Eddie followed quickly behind him, the bond singing of his nerves.

They pulled themselves into the back of the van. Doors slamming closed. The man climbed back into the driver’s seat and threw it into gear. No words. No explanations. The engine growled as the tires spun and kicked up loose gravel. And just like that, they were gone.

Out of the woods.

Away from the lab.

Speeding down a nameless road into the darkness.

And for the first time in hours, maybe even days. Steve let himself relax.

---

They were huddled in the back of the van, their backs pressed against opposite walls.

Eddie had his knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. Steve sat with one knee bent, an arm draped loosely over it, the other hand curled tensely in his lap. He kept sneaking glances over at Eddie. But Eddie’s gaze stayed fixed firmly on the floor. Or on the window, watching the blur of trees pass them by.

They had been on the road, if he had to guess, half an hour. Maybe more, maybe less. Before the man finally broke their silence. “I understand you boys have no reason to trust me.” He said, voice calm, measured. “But I meant it when I said I just want to help you.”

Steve leaned forward, staring at the back of the man’s head. “Yeah? And why’s that?” He knew he shouldn’t sound so angry. The guy has saved their lives, risking his own neck to do it. But Steve’s voice still came out hard, bitter. The adrenaline hadn’t left his system yet, not fully. It felt like it never would.

The man let out a quiet breath through his nose. The noise amplified in Steve’s ears. “I just.. Wanted to do good in this world. It’s all I’ve ever tried to do. When they.. When I was approached for this job, it was supposed to be about saving people. Not… Not torturing them. Not experimenting on unwilling subjects.”

Eddie let out a hollow laugh, dry and sharp. “Yeah, well. The road to hell, right? Paved in good intentions and all that shit.” He spit the last word like venom. Steve glanced back at him. Not judging, not upset. Just looking. Watching. Wishing Eddie would meet his eyes, but he didn’t.

The man in front gave a quiet nod. “I suppose.. Yes, you’re right. But like I said. I never had any intentions of being part of something like that. What they were doing to you, to both of you. What they were planning… It wasn’t something I was willing to be a part of. Getting you both out.. It’s the right thing to do, Maybe the only right thing I’ve done. And if all I can do is make it right by you both for the rest of my life… I’ll be alright with that.”

Neither Steve nor Eddie responded. The silence crept back in, thick and tense. Steve stared at the dark outlines of the trees blurring past outside. Eddie hadn’t moved. The man cleared his throat. “There’s some snacks on the back seat in front of you if you’re hungry. Water too. Unfortunately I couldn’t sneak any blood out. But the food’s clean. I swear, nothing’s tampered with.”

Steve glanced up, toward the rearview mirror. The man met his eyes there, just for a second. No lies. Just tired honesty. Steve gave a curt nod. He leaned forward, reaching over the seats, grabbing three water bottles and a plastic bag full of snacks. Gas station stuff mostly. Chips, granola bars, several packets of trail mix, and pretzels. He set it down between him and Eddie.

-Hey?- He pushed the thought gently across their bond, watching Eddie’s face for any flicker of emotion. A soft, reluctant hum answered back. -He doesn’t smell like he’s lying or anything. We can.. I think we can trust him.-

Eddie’s jaw twitched. His eyes flicked up to Steve, just briefly, then dropped to the bag. He didn’t answer at first. Then, quietly. ‘Yeah.. Okay.’ He reached forward, pulling out a bag of cheetos, and sat back, peeling it open with slow, methodical fingers. Like he was trying to buy time. Steve watched his hands, the bruises around his arms that still hadn’t healed properly.

Steve’s own fingers fidgeted on his knee. The nervous energy wouldn’t go away. His skin itched. His mouth felt bone dry even after he took a sip of water. He wanted to talk. Wanted to explain. Apologize. Wanted Eddie to say something. Yell at him. Scream at him. Anything.

Instead, Eddie just crunched on a cheeto.

Steve closed his eyes, leaning back against the cold wall. -I didn’t mean to screw things up. Not… Like that.- Eddie didn’t answer. But the bond sat still and quiet. Not closed, not somehow blocked. Just.. Silent.

Eddie took another bite. Another loud crunch in the silence.

The van rolled on. The road twisted and dipped, trees flying past in the dark. Where were they going? He was too exhausted to care. As long as it was far, far away from the lab. Steve opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. -I was just scared.-

Still no answer.

-I didn’t mean for it to be… Like that. I just… I didn’t want to feel… I didn’t want to die without ever-

“Don’t” Eddie said out loud, interrupting his thoughts. His voice was rough but quiet. Still looking at the bag of cheetos, not at Steve.

Steve went quiet. Swallowing thickly. He nodded, though Eddie wasn’t looking. “Okay.” He whispered.

They sat in silence again. Outside, the woods gave way to open land. And the van rolled on, carrying them farther and farther from the pain, and the torture they’ve known. And toward whatever waited next.

---

It was after a stop for gas two hours later, that Steve finally spoke up again. “So um.. Where exactly are we headed?” His voice was quiet.

From the front, the man glanced briefly into the rearview mirror, though he couldn’t see either of them. Both Steve and Eddie were laying flat on the floor. They’d ducked down the second they’d merged onto the highway proper. Too paranoid about being spotted.

“I have a place,” the man started. “Just outside the city limits of Hawkins.”

Steve’s head turned up fast, brows knitting together. “You think… We should go back to Hawkins?” He felt it instantly, the spike of unease that echoed through the bond. Eddie didn’t say anything, but Steve felt it anyway. That flicker of tension just under his skin.

The man’s voice stayed steady, almost apologetic. “It took a lot of consideration. But unless you two have anywhere specific in mind you’d like to go?... It’s the best option. I’ve got a place set up- quiet, remote, completely off grid. Of course you don’t have to stay with me. But I plan on staying around. If you need a home or just.. Somewhere safe. It’ll be there. Besides..” His voice dropped slightly. “I can’t exactly go back to my life either.”

There was a pause. Then Eddie exhaled- a soft breath, nearly soundless. But Steve heard it loudly in the stillness. “... I think. It’s a good idea.” Eddie murmured. “I mean.. If we don’t have anything left there, we can crash at yours. At least for a little while.”

Steve turned to look at him, heart clenching when Eddie began speaking. The first real words since that firm ‘don’t’ hours ago. He searched Eddie’s face, half hidden by his hair, the rest obscured by the awkward angle he was laying in, like he was attempting to stretch over the window.

“Yeah.” Steve said softly. His voice came out lighter. Steadier than he felt. “Yeah. Okay. Hawkins it is.” A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, soft, tentative. But Eddie didn’t return it. But he didn’t turn away either.

That felt like enough for now.

---

Later, with the road stretching endlessly. Steve broke the silence again. Eddie starting to finally doze off beside him, his head tucked just shy of Steve’s shoulder.

“I never did ask… What’s your name?” Steve asked, voice pitched just loud enough for the man to hear, but not disturb Eddie.

There was a pause, like he was processing what Steve said. Before the man chuckled under his breath. “It’s a mouthful. I’m fairly certain my parents gave it to me out of spite. So you can just call me Richard. Or Rich. Or just ‘Doctor’ works as well. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Steve grimaced faintly. “Yeah.. I think I’ll stick with ‘Doctor’. My dad’s name is Richard.”

The man, Doctor, made a quiet noise of understanding. “Doctor it is then.”

---

The van stopped again, just shy of dawn. Another back road gas station, quiet and skeletal in the darkness. The man filling the gas tank in silence while Steve laid still in the back of the van.

He was half listening to the hum of the powered off van, the noises humans would never be able to hear. Half listening to Eddie’s soft, even breaths beside him as he finally fell asleep out of exhaustion just moments ago.

When they were moving again, Steve spoke up, his voice barely more than a breath. “Where.. Where were we? Where was the lab?”

The man’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror before turning back to the road. “Middle of nowhere. Trust me.. It’s better not to think about it.”

Steve let out a soft hum, looking up at the roof.

---

It wasn’t long after that when Eddie shifted in his sleep. A slow, drowsy roll that ended with him plastered up against Steve’s side, laying over one of his arms. His head landed on Steve’s shoulder with the boneless heaviness of someone too exhausted to care.

Steve sucked in a quiet breath, the first one in hours.

His eyes darted down to Eddie’s face, relaxed, peaceful. So different from the stiffness, the silence, the walls he’d thrown up earlier. For a split second, Steve let himself feel it, the weight of Eddie against him, the warmth, the quiet. -He’s..- He closed his eyes tightly. No. No Eddie already made himself clear.

“How far are we?” He whispered out, holding himself still. Too nervous to move.

“A couple more hours.” The man replied gently.

Steve nodded, though no one could see it. “Oh.” His hand moved almost of its own accord, trembling just slightly as he brought it up to gently rub at Eddie’s back. Soft, tentative touch. Just to let him know he was there.

That he always would be.

---

He didn’t realize he was broadcasting across the bond.

He was just trying to think, to breathe, as his fingers traced slowly the Hellfire logo across Eddie’s back. His arm having gone numb a while ago, but he didn’t dare pull away.

He didn’t want to risk losing this.

-I don’t know what I did.- Steve’s thoughts were quiet, threading into the bond like smoke. -And I don’t know how to fix it. I just.. I thought you… I thought… I thought wrong, I guess. I’m sorry.-

He didn’t notice the way Eddie’s lashes fluttered. Didn’t see the sliver of brown beneath them as his eyes cracked open, just for a second.

The van jostled as they hit a rough patch of road, a loud thud beneath the tires, and Steve instinctively tightened his arm around Eddie. Careful, protective. Making sure he didn’t bounce or wake.

-I don’t think I could handle it if you didn’t want me around anymore. I don’t…- He exhaled shakily. -I’m sorry. Just let me.. Let me fix this.-

Still half curled around Steve, Eddie’s eyes slipped closed again. Not asleep. But pretending to be. Like it made the closeness easier to bear. Like if he didn’t move, didn’t speak, he could stay here, just for a while longer.

He burrowed in subtly, his nose brushing the curve of Steve’s throat. And from somewhere deep in the quiet between them, a whisper threaded through the bond. Soft. Not quite words. But it felt like one.

Please.

Steve stopped breathing again. He didn’t know if it came from him or Eddie.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

Outside, the sky was beginning to pale at the edges. The stars fading behind a slow, grey light. The kind of dawn that didn’t bring comfort, only exhaustion.

They were still hours away.

But for the first time in a while, Steve let himself close his eyes too.

Notes:

Oh Steve... You're breaking my heart.

Chapter 22: The Great River

Summary:

It gets worse before it gets better.

Notes:

I'm sorry.....
(Yes, there is a reverse Doctor Who joke in here.)

They had been walking for over an hour. And though they were not talking. Eddie stuck close at his side. Their bare feet crunching quietly though the dead leaves, as the man- Doctor, limped ahead, leaning on a cane. An old injury from something long forgotten he said. And he was older than he looked. Something that surprised Steve who thought him younger than his father.

But there were no roads here. No defined trails. Just direction- forward. No signs, no landmarks. Just blind faith that the man leading them wasn’t walking them straight into some elaborate trap. -Protect Eddie.- Steve reminded himself. The thought echoed quietly. A vow.

Steve took a subtle breath in. The forest around them was alive with the smell of damp pine, moss, and a thousand small creatures moving around them. But something unfamiliar tingled at the edge of his senses, something new. Like wood and metal, but different. He shot a glance toward Eddie, who was doing his best to burn holes into the doctors back by sheer force of will. Not that the man had done anything to deserve it. It was more about proximity. Steve’s proximity.

As the strange smell grew closer the man finally spoke up, voice low, even, meant only for them to hear. “It’s just up ahead… It doesn’t look like much, but wait until we get inside.” Steve stole another quick glance at Eddie. His face was unreadable, but his eye roll said enough. -Yeah… Me too.- Steve thought to himself.

As they broke past the last cluster of trees, they found themselves staring at a cabin. Small. Run-down looking. -Looks smaller than Hopper’s.- Steve thought. -There’s no way we’re all fitting in there.- Eddie’s side-eye told him he wasn’t the only one who thought that.

The man, Doctor, led them up a single creaky, wooden step and into the cabin. The interior was sparse but tidy. A small sitting area with a round table and two mismatched chairs to the right. A kitchenette tucked into the left side of the cabin. And there were two doors near the back. -Probably a bedroom and bathroom.- And a wide bookshelf was crammed tightly against the middle of the left wall, stuffed with old paperbacks and scientific journals. -Somehow.. It looked bigger on the outside.-

“Like I said.” The man broke the now awkward silence. “It doesn’t look like much.. But it’s safe. That’s what matters.” He paused, glancing at them. As the silence stretched on he slowly made his way to the bookshelf. “I’ve never had to use it before. Hopefully, I get this right.” Steve and Eddie exchanged confused looks, though they still haven’t spoken.

Then, the doctor reached behind the shelf. A soft click echoed, followed by a faint hiss and the whir of hidden mechanics. “I’ve had someone I trust make some very specific modifications down here. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start. Of course I plan on adding more in terms of comfort soon enough.”

Steve opened his mouth to ask a question- then quickly closed it again when the bookshelf began to slide open on its own. Shifting aside to reveal a thick metal door. The man quickly entered a code. The door thunking open to reveal a set of stairs leading… Down.

He swallowed heavily. -Out of one prison and into another.- The thought wasn’t meant for anyone but himself. But Eddie turned toward him sharply, eyes narrowing. Shit. Has he broadcast that? Opps.

“Now.” The man began as he led them, slowly, down the long set of stairs. “The button is behind the dark blue book. And the code’s the same as the one I gave you before. Seven, one, five, nine, eight.” Steve followed reluctantly, with Eddie close behind him. The walls began shifting from raw wood to dense, clay colored cement as they made their way down.

At the bottom, a long hallway stretched ahead. Long and sterile, but oddly warm.

“There are many different rooms down here.” The man began, voice echoing in the quiet. “And we’re far enough underground that no one will hear you up above. That combined with the fact I’ve had this built to be heavily reinforced. Ah, and that door up there is thick enough you’ll be protected should anyone try anything.”

He started to walk down the hall, ahead of them. His cane clacking against the dusty floor. “You can come and go as you like, you boys aren’t prisoners. Not here. But there’s bedrooms, a kitchen, showers, a gym, even some computers. Medical supplies too. And! I’ll be securing a steady supply of blood soon for you both.”

He turned into a room and flicked on the light. Steve and Eddie hovered at the doorway while the man moved around with a practiced ease, setting a kettle on the stove. The room was washed in a soft bright light. The metal cabinets reflecting the off white walls. A large round table sat in the middle. Several items lined the walls but Steve could hardly pay attention to them. -Is that.. Is he making tea?-

“Now I…” The man started, then paused when he noticed their wary stance. “You can come in. Really. Come sit.” Steve hesitated, then moved toward the table. His hand had twitched out instinctively toward Eddie’s arm, but stopped mid movement. He sat instead, back straight and tense.

“You boys are free to do as you like, I’ll try to give you your space. Down here, it’s for you. Of course I must admit to you there are some security cameras.” They both tensed up. Eddie froze, still halfway into sitting. Steve was ready to yell before the man hastily continued. “Not in the bedrooms or bathrooms!” He held up his hands. “Just at the entrance. And one by the gym mats, just in case of injury. There’s also some outside. And in the emergency containment room.”

“...Emergency.. Containment?” Steve blinked, his voice tight.

“Yes, yes.” The man nodded, busying himself with pouring steaming tea into mismatched mugs. “In case of.. Well, an episode. If one of you loses control, or just feel unsafe even. It’s there for you. The walls are reinforced. It’s secure. You can’t break it from the inside, and nothing is getting in from the outside. It’s meant for protection. Not punishment.”

Steve inhaled slowly, testing the air. No fear. No deceit. Not even discomfort. Just truth- steady and quiet. “Hmm.” He let out a breath, slow and steady. “I think…. Thank you but.. It’s just a lot right now.” He looked down as a mug slid gently across the table toward him.

The tea smelled like honey and mint. He didn’t drink.

But he didn’t push it away either.

---

The sound of the man’s cane tapping up the stairs echoed long after the hidden door clicked shut behind him. Then… Silence. Not the uneasy kind from the woods or the fearful kind from the lab. Just quiet. Heavy and stretched too thin.

Steve sat back at the round table in the kitchen, the man having given them a brief tour not long ago. Now he sat there, elbows on his knees, staring at the half-empty mug still in front of him. It had long gone cold. Beside him, Eddie was slouched in one of the mismatched chairs, arms crossed over his chest, socked foot tapping restlessly against the tile floor.

They both smelled like unscented soap and clean cotton now. Sweatpants and long-sleeves shirts the doctor had given them. Generic, soft, impersonal. No logos. No color. Just plain grey and black. Safe clothes for unsafe people.

Dinner had been sandwiches. Simple. Dry turkey on white bread. No mayo, no mustard. No flair. Neither of them having the stomach for much else.

Steve had hoped the shower would clear his head. It didn’t. He’d stood there too long, letting the hot water scald the back of his neck, replaying every word he’d failed to say and every second Eddie had refused to look at him.

Now they were alone. Finally. And it didn’t help.

He glanced over, just briefly. Eddie hadn’t moved. He hadn’t looked at him all day. Steve’s hands curled into fists on his knees. -Say something. Anything!- But his throat closed up tight.

The silence pressed in. A small hum from the fridge was the only sound between them. He thought, maybe, if he waited long enough.. Eddie would break first. He was so loud and full of energy before. But now…

Now Eddie looked like he was barely holding it together. Not angry. Not anymore. Just… Guarded. Shut down.

Steve swallowed. Cleared his throat. “Hey.” He said, barely more than a whisper.

Eddie didn’t look up.

Steve tried again. “You… You warm enough?” That earned him a shrug. Not a sarcastic response. Just… Nothing. He nodded to himself. Right.. Of course.

He stared down at the table. His mug. Eddie’s barely touched sandwich. The chair between them felt like it might as well be miles wide. “I didn’t mean to-...” Steve started, then stopped. The words died in his mouth before he could shape them.

Eddie finally looked at him. Slowly. His eyes were rimmed red, not bloodshot. Not from crying, not quite- just tired in a way Steve had never seen before. An exhaustion that went deeper than sleep. “You didn’t mean to what?” He asked, voice quiet but sharp enough to cut. “Didn’t mean to kiss me? Didn’t mean to kill those guys? Didn’t mean to hurt me?”

Steve flinched like the words had slapped him. He dropped his gaze to his hands. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He said, voice low. Fragile. “Any of it.. I didn’t want to-..” He stopped again, jaw clenching. Useless. Coward. Every word tasted like ash.

“But you did.” Eddie said, still sharp, still low. But steady now. “You hurt me Steve. You-...” He broke off with a sharp breath. “I don’t even know what that kiss was!” His voice cracked, and suddenly he was on his feet, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. His palms slammed against the table, making Steve flinch again.

“You wanna protect me?!” Eddie shouted, fingers curling into the wood. Not claws. Not yet. “By lying to me?! By pretending like that kiss was just-.. Just nothing?!” He swore under his breath, then turned sharply, storming over toward the door.

“I don’t know if I can be around you right now.” He threw over his shoulder. The rest hung in the air, unspoken- I don’t know if I can trust you. He paused in the doorway, but didn’t look back. “I’m not leaving.. You wanna fix this? Fine. Try to fix this. But I’m done talking tonight.”

Then he was gone.

Steve stayed frozen at the table, staring at the door.

And in the thick silence that followed, the tears finally came. Slow and silent. Sliding down his cheeks as he sat there alone in the too quiet kitchen, hands clenching into his sweatpants. The weight of it all finally pressing down on him.

The fridge hummed. Somewhere else a clock ticked. Behind the silence, Steve’s shaky breaths sounded wrong. Too shallow, too loud. He pressed a shaking hand over his mouth like he could trap the grief there, stop it from spilling out.

He sat there for a long time, unmoving. Just staring at the space Eddie had left behind. The echo of angry words still bouncing around in his chest like shrapnel.

Eventually, he managed to push himself back from the table. The chair legs scraped sharply against the floor, jarring in the quiet. His knees felt like they might give out, but he didn’t fall. He wouldn’t let himself. Not yet.

He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to be away. Somewhere Eddie wasn’t. Out of sight.

He drifted down the hall like a ghost. A few open doors revealed empty rooms. One had several desks and computers. Another with several comfortable looking couches. And finally, an empty bedroom. Tucked down a hallway with half the lights off. The bedroom itself was dimly lit. Undisturbed. Eddie’s scent wasn't in there. That was enough.

Steve stepped inside and shut the door softly behind him.

The bed groaned beneath his weight as he collapsed onto it without even pulling back the covers. He didn’t bother to find pajamas. Didn’t bother to move. Just laid there in his new sweats, body curled slightly toward himself like he could shield something vital. Like anything inside him was worth guarding anymore.

It was cold. Not physically, not really. The vents were still humming with warm air, the blankets under him were thick. But it didn’t matter. Steve felt frozen through.

Colder than the lab.

Colder than that metal room where he thought he’d never see Eddie again. At least there he had anger. He had fear. He had purpose.

Now?

Steve felt hollow.

He could hear Eddie pacing in a room down the hall. The sound of footsteps back and forth, back and forth. Never stopping. Echoing loudly in his head.

Steve shut his eyes. He could still see Eddie’s face. The way he looked at him. Like.. The same way he looked at the guards. Like Steve had finally become something worth hating. Worth all his anger. His fear.

He rolled onto his side, pulling his knees up slightly. His chest ached in that quiet, distant way that made it hard to breathe.. So he stopped breathing. But worse than the ache was the knowing. He could feel the anger beneath his skin, not his own. The fear too.

He had no idea how to fix this.

And worse still?

He wasn’t sure he deserved to.

---

He could hear it before he even opened his eyes. The faint buzz of fluorescent lights. Those that were always too bright. Too cold. Too sterile.

He took a subtle breath in trying to figure out anything he could before he let them know he was awake. Metallic. Sharp. The stench of bleach and blood. But there was something cold there too. A cold that settled under the skin.

The lab.

Steve’s eyes shot open looking around wildly. He was back in the lab. More specifically The Pit. How?

It was the same room of cracked concrete and rusted steel bars. The high stretching dome towering above him. The floor beneath him felt slick and stained, like it had never dried properly. His wrists ached. His body too heavy to move.

He glanced up, his breath catching. Above him, beyond the glass dome. Stood Eddie.

No doctors. No scientists. Just Eddie. In his sweats, blood coating his mouth, barefoot. Arms crossed tightly over his chest like he was holding himself together.

And he was staring directly at Steve.

Expression unreadable. Cold.

“Eddie?” Steve rasped. His voice didn’t echo in the space. It barely reached the walls.

Eddie tilted his head. Then slowly, almost gently, said. “You deserve this.”

Steve’s blood went cold. “Eddie I-.” He struggled to sit up. The restraints he couldn’t see were suddenly there, biting into his limbs.

“You deserve this.” Eddie repeated, firmer now. Eyes like stone. No fire. No hurt. Just a verdict. A sentence.

A hiss sounded behind him.

Steve turned, or tried to. But he couldn’t move. Just feel.

The cell door in front of him opened with a mechanical groan, like metal scraping through bone. And out stepped…

Vecna.

Or what used to be him.

His skin oozed black sludge, thick like tar, dripping onto the floor in long trails that sizzled where they landed. The twisting vines of the Upside Down pulsed across his body, merged into him like veins beneath ruined skin. His eye sockets were empty, glowing with that red lightning that stained the sky of that hellscape.

Behind him, like towering shadows, came two demogorgons. The size of which Steve had never seen before. Never wanted to see again.

Their claws scraped across the floor. Their mouths opened in slow, hungry clicks, revealing far too many teeth that stretched far too wide.

Steve’s heartbeat thundered in his ears.

He looked up again. Eddie was gone.

Just the glass above. Empty.

No one was watching now.

No one was coming.

The three monsters stepped closer.

Vecna raised a hand, black sludge curling from his fingertips like smoke.

Steve tried to scream.

But no sound came.

---

Steve shot up in bed with a sharp gasp, lungs fighting for air that he knew he didn’t need. But his body desperately craved. His chest heaved. Sweat drenched the collar of his shirt. The room was dark. Still.

From somewhere down the hall a vent hummed.

No lab.

No Pit.

But the dread clung to him like a second skin.

And he couldn’t shake the echo of Eddie’s voice, still raining in his skull.

You deserve this.

---

The scream stayed lodged in his throat long after he woke up from yet another nightmare.

Steve sat hunched on the edge of the bed, sweat soaking through his shirt, his hands trembling in his lap. His face felt wet, raw. He must’ve cried in his sleep again. He wiped at his eyes roughly, like it might push the memories away.

It didn’t.

He hadn’t seen Eddie once today. Not really. Just the vague passing of him down the hall, a flicker of dark hair disappearing into the other room. They hadn’t spoken since that first night in the kitchen.

And Steve couldn’t seem to get warm again. No matter how many layers he pulled on or how many blankets he curled under. The chill wasn’t physical. It lived somewhere deeper.

The dreams hadn’t stopped. Only changed. Now, it wasn’t the monsters that haunted him. Hunted him.

It was Eddie.

Always Eddie.

Standing across a room, not saying anything. Or laughing with one of the kids, with Robin, with Dustin. Or looking through him like Steve wasn’t there at all. Sometimes, he’d speak- distant, cold, final.

“You don’t get to come back from this.”

“I don’t want you.”

“You’re nothing but a mistake.”

“It should have been you, not me.”

Steve woke up gasping each time, fingernails digging crescent moons into his palms. Or the few times claws had stabbed into his upper thighs. He started staying awake for longer and longer stretches, just to avoid sleep. But when exhaustion won out, the nightmares always came.

He barely touched the food left out for them. Not out of some punishment- he just couldn’t stomach it. It all tasted like ash. His stomach churned no matter what he tried. He figured maybe, maybe he was just coming down with something. A cold. Or the flu. Or some new vampire sickness. That had to be it.

Now, almost two weeks since their escape, Steve sat at the kitchen table again. Dressed in a warm dark red hoodie, and soft grey sweatpants. Staring blanky down into a bowl of lukewarm soup. His fingers curled limply around the spoon, unmoving.

The man had kept his word. He got them plenty of blood, not that Steve could stomach it either. And he was making improvements down here for them. More gym equipment was brought in, more pillows, more clothes. But he was also giving them their space too. Letting them adjust back to life again. Today he had made the trek back to his van, heading a few hours out to meet with a trusted friend.

And now.. Now Eddie stood at the counter, back turned, clinking around with the coffee mugs.

The quiet between them had taken on a new kind of weight. Like something rotten, festering between them. And Steve couldn’t fix it. Couldn’t undo what he did. He’d tried- or wanted to, at least. But the words never came.

He didn’t even register that Eddie was moving until the mug slammed down against the counter, the sharp crack of ceramic echoing like a gunshot through the space.

Steve jumped, looking up in alarm, dazed.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t take this anymore!” Eddie shouted, his voice sharp and hoarse. “You look like you’re dying Steve!”

Steve blinked at him, mouth parted like he’d forgotten how to speak.

“You haven’t eaten a full meal in days. You haven’t even had any blood!” Eddie snapped, rounding on him. “You look like shit, you smell like cold sweat and nightmares, and I hear you pacing all night! And then just pretending like everything’s fine?!”

“I’m not pretending-” Steve started weakly.

“You are!” Eddie bit out. “You’re pretending like if you just.. Stay quiet and small enough I’ll forget everything. Like you’re trying to disappear.”

Steve stared down at the soup. His hand had started shaking again. “I.. Just thought I was getting sick.” He muttered.

“You’re not sick!” Eddie growled out. “You’re falling apart.” The cracked mug sat on the counter behind them, steam curling out of it in lazy tendrils. The silence after Eddie’s words was thick. Final.

And then softer, like it hurt to say. “And I can’t… I can’t just stand here and watch you rot away in front of me Steve.”

Steve pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I don’t know how to fix it.” He whispered. “I’m trying and I don’t know how. I don’t even know what I’m doing wrong anymore-”

“I never wanted you to disappear.” Eddie interrupted, suddenly closer. His voice cracked with emotion. “I just wanted you to fucking talk to me.”

Steve couldn’t look up. His chest hurt. Deep and sharp, like the nightmares had followed him out of sleep and taken root in his lungs.

“Steve just… Just fucking talk to me.. Please.” He finally said, voice ragged.

“I..” He started, but the words came out like it was stuck in a throat full of glass. Steve’s breath hitched as he gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, the wood groaning. As he tried to steady himself. It didn’t work. His eyes brimmed hot before he could stop it.

“I don’t know how.” He admitted, finally looking at Eddie, tears in his eyes. “I don’t know how to talk to you when I feel like every word’s going to make it worse.”

Eddie’s face softened, but he didn’t move. He let Steve keep going.

“I go to bed and it’s like.. Like I never left the lab. Like I’m still in that fucking room, strapped down, and you’re standing there watching.” Eddie sucked in a sharp breath. “And you’re angry. And then you’re gone and I-” His voice cracked. He rubbed at his eyes harshly. “I don’t even know if this is real anymore. I don’t.. I don’t even know if you’re here. Not really.”

“Oh.. Steve, I'm here.” Eddie said quickly, softly. “I’m right here.”

Steve shook his head, still trembling. “You’re not. You haven’t been. And I get it, okay? I get it. I messed everything up. I killed people. I put you in danger. I kissed you when I shouldn’t have. I crossed a line I can’t uncross. And now you’re looking at me like I’m.. Like I’m someone else.”

Eddie stepped closer, not saying anything. Just listening.

“I keep seeing your face every time I close my eyes. The way you looked at me in the lab… Like I.. Like some kind of monster. Like I’d turned into exactly what they wanted me to be.”

Steve’s voice went quiet again. Barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know how to come back from that.”

The silence stretched. Steve’s chest heaved, fighting against the guilt clawing its way up his throat. He stared at the cold soup in front of him like it held all the answers.

It didn’t.

Eddie leaned back against the counter. Jaw tight, eyes glassy. “I was angry.” He said eventually. “I was terrified too. Everything happened so fast and then you-.. You did what you did and it was like.. I didn’t even know you.”

Steve flinched, but didn’t argue.

“But the thing is.” Eddie continued, voice low. “I know why you did it. I know you. You weren’t trying to hurt me. You were trying to protect me. Even if it was messy. Even if it was.. Horrifying.”

Steve blinked up at him, his chest still tight, his breathing uneven.

“And yeah, I was pissed. I still am sometimes.” Eddie added. “But I never stopped caring about you. Not for a second. I just.. Needed to think.”

Steve’s whole body sagged forward, like something heavy had been lifted. Just a little.

“I’ve been trying to give you space. Trying to let you come to me when you figure it out. But Jesus, Steve, you look like you’re fading away right in front of me. And I… I can’t lose you. Not now. Not again.”

Steve’s lips, dry, cracked, parted. “You haven’t.” He said, quietly. “You haven’t lost me.”

Eddie stepped forward and dropped into the chair beside him, eyes locked on Steve’s. “Then don’t disappear. Don’t shut me out.”

Steve nodded. Once. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I won’t. I’m trying. I just.. Need help.”

Eddie reached out, hand resting light over Steve’s.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere… I’ve got you.”

And for the first time in days, Steve let himself believe in something.

Notes:

It's either I read too fast, or bits of this feel rushed. What do you guys think? I tried to do something, and I'm not sure how successful I was.

Chapter 23: Much Needed Conversations

Summary:

They finally talk.
There's a misunderstanding.
But all's well that ends well... Right?

Notes:

These boys have so much trauma it's not even funny. Do they talk about it? Pshh. No.

Eddie was making himself a new cup of coffee. He seemed.. Nervous.

It wasn’t like before, when everything between them felt stretched so tight it could snap at any second. This was different. Hesitant. Like the air had softened but the bruises hadn’t fully healed.

They had spent the last few hours talking. Not everything had been said- not even close. But enough. Enough to stitch the open wounds shut. Enough to remind them both that they were still tethered, still here. They spoke about everything and nothing. But mostly the dreams.

And Steve, with Eddie’s help- quiet encouragement, a hand steady on his back, no pressure. Had managed to get two mugs of blood and a sandwich down without his stomach wanting to revolt again. It sat like stone in his gut, but he’d kept it down. That was something.

Now he was just sitting here, elbows on the kitchen table, looking down at his hands like they belonged to someone else.

The mood had shifted. Still somber, still heavy in a way that sat at the base of his spine. But somehow lighter, it wasn’t festering any longer. The silence didn’t weigh heavy it just.. Was.

And yet, even after the blood, even after the food, he was still cold. Not just physically- although that too. But a deeper kind of cold. The kind that crept into your bones and settled there. The kind that didn’t leave, no matter how tightly you wrapped yourself in warmth.

Eddie reappeared at his side with a fresh cup of coffee, the mug snug between both hands. He sat gently in the chair next to him, closer than before. Close enough their knees brushed. Eddie said nothing, just sipped at the steaming mug.

Steve glanced sideways at him. “You know…” He began, a hint of a smile curling weakly at the corner of his mouth. “I wasn’t even sure if caffeine affected us anymore.”

Eddie turned toward him with an exaggerated blink and took a loud, obnoxious slurp from his cup. “Mmm. Which is why this is my fifth cup.” He replied, eyes wide and mock serious. “I can feel it trying its best, poor baby. But it just runs out too fast.”

Steve huffed out a quiet laugh. It wasn’t much, but it was real. His fingers twitched where they rested on the table, like maybe they wanted to reach out. But he didn’t dare move them. Not yet.

Eddie leaned forward, just slightly. Resting his forearm against the table. “You’re lookin’ better Harrington. Still like you spent another day getting dragged backwards through the Upside Down though, but y’know, like.. A little less corpse-y.”

Steve let out a dry, broken chuckle. “Thanks Munson. That’s real heartwarming.”

A comfortable silence fell between them. Not long. Just long enough for both of them to remember they were still there, still okay, in the soft quiet of the kitchen.

Then Eddie spoke again, quieter. Nervous. “I.. I want to tell you why I was so upset. Why it.. Why I was so angry. But I.. I don’t want it to be like it was before. I don’t want you to.. To start disappearing again.”

Steve’s smile fell. He gave a subtle nod in understanding. “I won't. But I.. I’d like to understand.”

Eddie stared into his coffee mug like it might offer him the courage to go on. His fingers flexed around the ceramic. The light hum of the refrigerator filled the pause between them, steady and low. Slowly he sat back in his chair, running both hands through his hair before clasping them behind his neck, eyes unfocused on a spot somewhere across from them.

“It’s not really a thing I’ve said out loud before, y’know?” He started, voice tight with nerves that didn’t match the casual posture. “Not because I’m ashamed or- well, okay, maybe a little bit. I mean small towns aren’t exactly known for their progressive vibes, and I already have the label of Freak as it is, which is somehow totally unrelated to this at all. And it’s not like Hellfire’s colors are a giant rainbow.”

He laughed, nervously, too fast, too sharp.

“And Wayne- God, I love that man! But I didn’t even know how to begin having that conversation with him. Like, ‘Hey Uncle Wayne, thanks for raising me from age seven and putting up with my drama. And cleaning up the cops’ mess every time they think I’m peddling drugs to a bunch of kids or killing high school students. Also, surprise I’m… I…’.. Just seems like a lot to spring on a guy over Sunday dinner, y’know? But uh.. But apparently he just.. Knew? When I tried to tell him. He just.. Already knew.”

Steve blinked, staying silent, letting him talk.

“And the band! Can you imagine? ‘Hey fellas, let’s scream about the destruction of the capitalist war machine, and also fun fact. I’d totally kiss most of the members of Metallica if given the chance.’” He huffed, shaking his head. “I mean, not that it would matter. I think they’d be cool. But what if they weren’t? What if they looked at me different? What if they stopped talking to me? What if it was just… Silence? I don’t.. I don't think I would have survived it.”

His voice cracked on the last, whispered sentence. And the deflection fell away like a mask slipping off mid-scene.

The room went still again.

Eddie finally dropped his hands to the table. He didn’t look at Steve when he spoke next. Just stared at the wood table like it might split open and pull him under.

“...I’m… I’m gay, Steve.” He said, barely above a whisper. “And I just.. I couldn’t kiss you back.” He closed his eyes briefly, jaw tight, before glancing toward Steve.

Steve was staring at his own hands again, like they might offer him a script, an answer, something.

Steve who after a too long beat of silence said. “Then.. Is it.. Is it just me?”

Eddie sat up a little straighter, no less scared, but now confused. “Is what just you?”

Steve licked over his lips, eyes fixed down. His fingers twitched against the table. He wanted to run. “You don’t… Am I just not your type?”

Eddie’s nostrils flared. Not to take a breath in, but in anger. “OH! Seriously?!” He threw his hands up in a sudden burst of motion. “Just because I’m gay I have to hit on you? On the great King Steve?! Get over yourself Harrington!” His voice rose, sharp and bitter. “Of course I’d finally come out to someone and now you try and make this about you?!”

Steve flinched like he’d been struck. But in a quieter, almost broken voice responded. “I just thought..”

“You thought what?!” Eddie snapped.

“I just thought… You liked me too.”

The words hit like a freight train. Eddie whipped around, eyes widening around the time Steve’s voice cracked on the word ‘too’. He noticed a shine in Steve’s eyes. “E.. Excuse m-”

But Steve was already getting up to leave before Eddie could stutter out his response. Moving on instinct. His hand shot out at an inhuman speed, gripping Steve’s wrist tightly. “Steve..” He said, quieter. All the anger draining from him.

Steve tried to pull out of the hold but stopped as the grip grew tighter. “I’m sorry.” Steve whispered, gaze locked on the floor. “I guess I just… I just thought..” He opened his mouth before closing it again, whispering now. “I guess I was just misreading it because.. Just because we were in there…. Sorry.”

Eddie’s voice was hesitant now. “Steve… I think I’m missing something here.”

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry.” Steve’s tone was flat now. Empty. He added quieter, the noise of the fridge was nearly louder than he was. “Please let go.”

Eddie loosened his hold but didn’t let go. “No. It’s not nothing!” The fear in his voice twisted into a shout. “Because I thought it was just some heat of the moment type thing! I thought I was a stand-in. That I was there and you kissed me because there wasn’t anyone else! I wasn’t gonna let myself be some kind of.. Of sexuality experiment. I wasn’t going to be another fling for a straight guy!”

Steve was shaking now. “I’m not.” He quietly admitted.

“What?”

“Straight.. I’m not.” Eddie blinked, the words taking a second to process. His hand fell away completely now. “But I thought… I thought you liked me too.. I just thought we… I’m sorry.”

And then he was gone, slipping out the door before Eddie could stop him. The soft click of the door closing echoed like a gunshot.

It snapped Eddie out of his shock. He shoved the chair back with a crash as he hurried to the door, wrenching it open. Eyes quickly scanning around. He spotted Steve halfway down the corridor, shoulders hunched like he was trying to collapse in on himself.

“Steve!”

He didn’t stop

Eddie caught up in seconds. His hand closing gently around Steve’s wrist. This time featherlight, barely holding.

“Steve..” He breathed. “I didn’t.. I’m sorry. I thought.. I..” He trailed off, helpless. He was at a loss for words. But Steve didn’t respond. He just stood there, facing away from Eddie.

“Steve please.. Please just.. Look at me.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t want Eddie to see him crying.

In a quiet, broken voice. “Steve.. Please.”

He turned, just slightly. But it was enough for Eddie to see his eyes, red-rimmed and wet. Tears cutting clean tracks down his cheeks.

Eddie’s heart shattered. He reached up, his own hands trembling, and cupped Steve’s face like he was afraid he might dissolve under the touch. Their positions mirrored their moment in the lab. “Steve.” He said gently, voice shaking. “I.. I’ve had the biggest crush on you since I saw you in those hideous polos and too clean khakis. And it only got worse seeing you in the stupid gym uniform.”

Steve blinked slowly, but didn’t respond. Eddie gave a soft, wet laugh through his heartbreak. “And at the mall?.. I went to the stupid ice cream shop almost every damn day to see you in that uniform. I blew so much money on shitty sundaes just to see that ridiculous sailor outfit. Robin thought I was insane. Took pity on me, started giving me a discount when you weren’t working.”

Steve’s eyes flicked up, the smallest spark of himself returning behind his eyes.

“I memorized your schedule.” Eddie whispered. “Tuesdays and Thursdays you had the closing shift. And you always, always had sprinkles on your break sundae.” Steve let out a trembling breath. His shoulders sagging just a little under Eddie’s hands.

“I just… I didn’t think someone like you could ever want someone like me.” Eddie admitted. “So when you kissed me, I thought maybe.. Maybe it was panic or the blood or just.. Just a mistake.”

“Wasn’t.” Steve whispered, voice hoarse. “Wasn’t a mistake.. Not even a little.”

They stood there for a long moment in silence. Close. Still.

Then Steve, voice raw, barely audible. “You remember the sprinkles?”

Eddie huffed out what could be considered a wet laugh. “Of course I do Stevie.” He leaned down letting their foreheads touch as he ran his thumb over Steve’s cheek. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

For once, Steve didn’t flinch away.

He leaned in. Just slightly. And this time, Eddie didn’t hesitate.

Their lips met in a kiss that was nothing like the first.

There was no fear in it. No panic, no blood, no desperate scrambling for something warm in the dark.

This one was slow. Careful. Real.

Steve’s hands hovered for a moment, unsure, still trembling. Before they found their way to Eddie’s shirt, clutching the fabric like he needed something to hold him steady. Eddie kissed him like he had all the time in the world, like he wanted Steve to feel every ounce of what he meant.

When they finally pulled back, foreheads still touching, Steve’s eyes fluttered open. He was breathless, and he hated that his first thought wasn’t about the kiss, but that he didn’t even need to breathe anymore.

But something inside him felt like it should.

“I’m sorry I ran.” Steve whispered, voice still rough. “I just.. I’ve messed up so many things and I thought I’d done it again.”

Eddie gave a small, crooked smile. “Yeah, well, I yelled at you like an asshole. So we’re even.”

Steve huffed a breath of laughter, watery and broken. “I wasn’t trying to make it all about me. I just.. When you pulled away I thought I made you uncomfortable. Or like.. I was just another mistake.”

“Steve.” Eddie murmured, thumbs brushing under his eyes to wipe away the last of his tears. “You’re not a mistake. You’re.. You’re actually the only thing in this whole fucked up world that makes any kind of sense.”

Steve’s breath hitched again. Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “God, listen to me. I sound like a bad romance novel.”

“I kind of like bad romance novels.” Steve mumbled. Trying to lighten the mood.

Eddie grinned. “Yeah? I can tell.”

They stood like that for a while. Quiet, close, hands still gently holding each other like they were afraid one of them might vanish again. Eventually, Steve spoke again, a little more sure of himself. “So.. What now?”

Eddie pulled back, just enough to look at him. “Now?” He shrugged. “Now I make you another mug of blood, we’ll see if there are any terrible movies to mock around here. And maybe.. If you’re not sick of me… I get to fall asleep next to you on the couch.”

Steve blinked up at him. “You want to… Stay?”

Eddie’s voice dropped into a soft murmur. “I’ve been staying Stevie. I just didn’t know if I was allowed to.. I just wanted to ask if I could.. Keep the nightmares away.”

Steve stared at him, then leaned in to press a barely there kiss to the corner of his mouth. Just one. Gentle. “You don’t have to ask.” He said quietly, not to break the moment. “Not anymore.”

Eddie’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, trying to keep his composure. “Cool.” He rasped. “That’s… Cool.”

Together, they walked back toward the kitchen. Their fingers interlocked. The air still heavy with everything that had been said, but lighter now. The silence no longer weighed down by confusion or fear, but held something gentler. Hope.

As he quietly fixed the chairs Eddie had knocked over, Eddie went to warm two mugs of blood. Steve sat down, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. After a moment, he looked up. His voice came out a little too casual, a little too uncertain. “So… Are we- do you want to be- I mean.. Do you..”

Eddie turned around, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Steve.. Are you trying to ask me to go steady?”

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight the shy smile forming on his lips. “Screw you Munson… Yeah.. Yeah I’m trying to ask you to be my damned boyfriend. Apparently very poorly.”

Eddie moved faster than Steve could blink, suddenly standing tall in front of him, one hand gently tilting Steve’s chin up. Steve startled but didn’t pull away, eyes wide in surprise. “Yeah, Stevie.” Eddie murmured, voice full of something Steve couldn’t name. “I’ll be your boyfriend.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Steve’s lips- soft, slow, a little giddy. A kiss that felt like a promise.

When he pulled back Steve was grinning. “Yeah?.. Cool.”

Eddie snorted, affection written all over his face as he heard Steve whisper the word “boyfriends” under his breath, like he didn’t quite believe it was real.

Eddie went back to grab the now warm mugs, setting them on the table. They sat shoulder to shoulder, letting the quiet settle back in, this time warm and full of something new. He leaned against Eddie like it was second nature, and Eddie didn’t budge, just adjusted so that they slot together better.

They drank in silence, until Steve slowly, licking the last bit of blood from his lips, set his mug down. “We should..” He started softly, eyes flicking over to Eddie. “Probably clear the air about some things though.”

Eddie nodded once, licking a smear of red off his own lips. “Yeah. That’s fair.”

“You cool if we move it somewhere more comfortable?” Steve asked, his voice still unsure, like he didn’t want to scare off the moment. Or wake up from a dream.

Eddie stood, offering a hand. “Couch or crypt?”

He snorted, taking the offered hand. “Couch. You’d need to take me out to dinner first before we go to the crypt.”

Eddie let out a quiet laugh as he led Steve from the kitchen and down the hall. “Fair enough.”

They entered their new version of a hangout room and settled down on the couch directly in line with the television. They sat not quite touching, but not far apart either. Steve curled one leg under himself, while Eddie sat half turned toward him. His arm slung along the back of the cushion, not quite around Steve, but close.

He picked at a loose thread of his sleeve. “Okay. So. Um.. I guess I should start.”

Eddie nodded. “If you want.”

He took a breath, then forced himself to meet Eddie’s eyes. “When I kissed you in the lab..” He started. “I wasn’t trying to use you. I swear. I didn’t even think about it. I just.. You were there, and I felt like everything was falling apart, and you looked at me like I wasn’t already dead inside and.. God I’m screwing this up already.”

“Steve.” Eddie’s voice was quiet, but steady. Steve stopped his rambling, licking over his lips with nerves. He wanted to let his claws out, but refrained.

“I know.” Eddie said. “Now I do, anyway.. I was scared too. Scared you’d wake up and regret it. That it’d ruin everything I let myself hope for.”

Steve blinked at him, stunned. “You were scared?”

Eddie huffed. “Terrified. Still am, a little.” His voice dropped. “You’re kind of a lot Harrington.”

That pulled a soft laugh from Steve, who let his head fall back against the cushions. “Yeah.. I guess I am.”

Another quiet moment passed between them. Then he spoke again.

“When I kissed you.. It was real for me. Not a fluke. Not an experiment. I think… I’ve known for a while that I wasn’t just into girls. But with you.. It never felt confusing. Just… Scary.”

Eddie’s brows pulled together, but the tension was easing from his shoulders.

“It’s not scary because of you.” Steve added quickly. “It’s scary because.. It is real. And I didn’t think I’d ever get something real again. Not after..”

Eddie leaned in then. Slowly his hand found Steve’s. “Hey.” He said soft, but firm. “You got me now. I’m real. And I’m not going anywhere, okay? And if I have to remind you every five minutes that this is real, then I will. Okay?”

Steve nodded, throat too tight to speak. He slid his fingers between Eddie’s again. After a few minutes he quietly whispered. “I don’t know what the hell we’re doing. But.. I want to try. I don’t want to give up.. I don’t want to let them win.”

Eddie smiled at him, thumb brushing over Steve’s knuckles. “Then we try. Together.”

He nodded again, feeling more confident. “Yeah.. Together.”

---

They sat like that for some time. Eddie’s thumb running over his knuckles, their fingers loosely interlocked. The silence between them wasn’t heavy anymore, but soft. Comfortable.

After a while, Steve quietly spoke, his voice barely louder than a breath. “I.. I’m.. I’m scared of finding out what happened in Hawkins.”

Eddie didn’t speak at first, but gave Steve’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah.. Me too.” He finally said, voice low. “I keep thinking, what if there’s nothing left for us? No people, no homes. Nothing.”

Steve nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Yeah, but what if…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the thoughts. “I was thinking.. We should try and go see Wayne.”

Eddie went still. His grip around Steve’s hand tightening, just for a moment. Then, slowly, his thumb resumed its familiar motion- comforting, grounding. “I… I’m scared Steve.” Eddie admitted, eyes flickering to their joined hands. “I want to see him. God I do. But what if I get there and it’s just…” His voice faltered. “Can we wait.. Just a little longer?”

Steve immediately nodded. “Yeah. Yeah Eddie we can wait.” He gave a gentle tug on their hands, guiding Eddie closer until their knees brushed. “Let’s just.. Keep talking, yeah?”

Eddie nodded, settling into the space between them. “Sure. What, uh.. What do you wanna talk about?”

---

“You said, ‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel right now’, how else was I supposed to take it?!” Steve yelled, though it wasn’t in anger.

Eddie’s thumb still moved over the back of Steve’s hand, even as his own frustration bled through. “I meant it as in, I wasn’t processing things right then! We’d just been through hell Steve. Everything was on fire, literally and figuratively, and then you kissed me!” His voice cracked. “Excuse me for being a little out of my mind and not able to think clearly!”

Steve’s brows knit. But his volume didn’t lower. “I thought it was because you didn’t like guys!”

“You even agreed with me!” Eddie snapped, then immediately softened. “I thought you were having a sexuality crisis.”

He rolled his eyes. “I had that ages ago.” Steve muttered, his voice dripping lower. He swallowed hard. “I didn’t know what to feel because.. Because I couldn’t handle the thought of you hating me. Not when I’m kind of..” He hesitated, biting his lip before continuing. “Kind of obsessed with you.”

Eddie stilled, his thumb pausing for a second as he searched Steve’s face. Like he was trying to make sure he’d heard him right. “You’re.. Obsessed with me?” He asked quietly, something close to wonder in his voice.

Steve rolled his eyes, but it lacked bite this time. His next words were barely louder than a whisper. “Well… Yeah man. I thought it was obvious.”

They didn’t need any dramatic music or grand gestures. The way Eddie’s smile bloomed across his face, wide, boyish, and real, it was enough. He tugged Steve forward, closing the space between them, and kissed him. Warm. Certain.

When they finally pulled apart, both smiling like idiots, Eddie rested his forehead against Steve’s. “Yeah Harrington.. I’m kind of obsessed with you too.”

He huffed out a laugh, eyes fluttering closed. “No shit. Mr ‘I know you like sprinkles on your break room sundae’.”

Eddie chuckled, kissing his cheek. “You do like sprinkles. I pay attention.”

Steve leaned into him, chest finally starting to feel a little lighter. “Yeah… You really do.”

---

Now he was leaning with his back against Eddie’s chest, their positions reversed from how they’d been, what felt like ages ago, in the bean bag chairs. Eddie’s arms were draped lazily around his waist, fingers idly toying with the hem of Steve’s sweatshirt. The room was quiet, save for the low hum of the TV still playing softly in the background. Though it was loud enough for their ears.

“I thought you meant you didn’t want to die without kissing a guy.” Eddie murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Steve let out a quiet, breathy laugh and rolled his eyes, tilting his head back to catch a glimpse of Eddie’s face. “You’re such an idiot.” He said fondly. “I was trying to say I didn’t want to die without you knowing how I feel.. About you.”

Eddie went still for half a second. “Oh…” He breathed, his voice catching slightly, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His fingers stilled against the fabric.

“And how do you feel?” He asked, voice soft but edged with something playful.

Before Steve could answer, Eddie leaned down, stealing the words from his mouth with a deep, slow kiss. One that said he already knew.

---

“And you said you didn’t want to screw things up like that, how else was I supposed to take it?!” Eddie growled, more frustrated with himself than angry. His claws traced gently through Steve’s hair, not scratching, just dragging with a comforting pressure across his scalp. He was annoyed with himself for misreading well.. Everything.

Steve let out a soft groan, tilting his head further back against Eddie’s chest. “Um.. Probably that I didn’t want our first kiss to be in the middle of a warzone?”

Eddie’s hand stilled for a moment before resuming, this time with a more deliberate scratch that made Steve shiver. “Okay well I.. But uh… How did you want it to be?” His voice was quieter now, almost shy.

He gave a half-hearted shrug, melting further into Eddie’s hold, his eyes fluttering closed. “I don’t know. Not surrounded by literal corpses? Preferably not covered in guts. Maybe at a movie or… I don’t know? Something simple.”

Eddie hummed and dipped his head to press a kiss to Steve’s hair. “Y’know… If we hadn't been complete disasters about talking, and if I hadn’t freaked out like a moron.. It might’ve actually been a decent first kiss. Even with the gore.”

He cracked an eye open and smirked. “Oh who are you kidding Munson? That was a great kiss.”

Eddie exhaled a huff against Steve’s hair. “The kiss was god-awful. But.. Kissing you? Yeah.. Not terrible.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly and reached down, taking Eddie’s free hand in his. He brought it up, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “Kissing you isn’t terrible either.” He whispered, the words soft and warm against Eddie’s skin.

---

“And to think..” Eddie began, his breath puffing out of him as if he’d run a marathon. “I was over here trying to push you back toward Wheeler before all this.” His hand slid slowly up Steve’s hips, thumbs brushing under the hem of his sweatshirt.

They were still on the couch, Eddie propped against the arm rest. Steve straddling his thighs, flushed and breathless from the very effective pause in their conversation. One that involved several minutes of them appreciating the fact they didn’t need to actually breathe.

Steve groaned, leaning in until their foreheads touched. His hands still fisted in Eddie’s shirt, his voice tight. “And it pissed me off Munson. Because I had been trying everything to get you to even look at me. To notice it wasn’t her I was into. And I haven’t been for a long time now.”

Eddie’s grin went a little lopsided as he tugged Steve’s hips forward again, both of them groaning as he stole another slow, lazy kiss. “And what about that talk? The one with the team of nuggets and an RV?”

He let out another groan, this one of annoyance as he dropped his head to Eddie’s shoulder. “Can’t believe you heard that.” His voice was muffled against his shirt. “Yeah, I used to love her. But I’m not in love with her. That RV thing… I was just trying to tell her that dream didn’t fit anymore. That it wasn’t about her anymore. But I guess it came out wrong and.. I wanted her to know we’re just friends now. Or… We were.” His shoulders lifted in a weak shrug.

He went quiet for a beat before adding, softer. “I already had all the kids I wanted.”

Eddie’s hand slid over his back in slow, steady circles. “You said… You tried everything to get me to look at you?” His tone was teasing now. “Gonna have to challenge that Harrington. Pretty sure you didn’t try everything.”

He tilted his head, just enough for Eddie to see him roll his eyes. “Yeah, well. Just shy of outright kissing you. I did.”

Eddie smirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Steve sat up straighter, meeting Eddie’s eyes, voice full of stubborn heat. “Let’s see. I wore your jacket. I flirted with you, subtly, which I now realize was a mistake.” Eddie opened his mouth but he cut him off. “I was pretending I wasn’t interested and you didn’t notice it at all… I also joked with you, I stared at your mouth every. Single. Time. You talked. I ‘accidentally’ brushed up against you every chance I got. When you leaned in real close in the Upside Down? I thought, finally. Finally you were going to kiss me, make a move, do something. But no. You just told me to go get her back.”

Eddie blinked, stunned into silence. His mouth opened like he wanted to respond but nothing came out at first. Then finally, quietly. “I was just trying to keep quiet but.. God Steve, I wanted to kiss you.”

Steve rolled his eyes, leaning down to place a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips. “Yeah. I know that now.”

---

“Steve.” Eddie’s voice was soft, barely above the hush of the TV murmuring in the background. He didn’t want to shatter the moment.

They were sprawled together on the couch. Steve’s head resting comfortably against Eddie’s chest, the steady barely there rhythm of his not-quite-heart in his ear. Eddie’s fingers were tracing lazy, looping patterns over his hip, something mindless, soothing.

“Hmm?” He hummed, glancing up at him with tired eyes.

“I don’t want to upset you or anything.” Eddie said, his voice dropping to a whisper. But there was tension in it. Steve could hear the strain, the hesitance. “And I don’t know if this is intentional on your part but… I can’t feel you.”

Steve blinked, eyebrows pulling together. He slowly sat up, one hand splayed over Eddie’s chest like an anchor. “You can’t… Feel me?”

“The bond.” Eddie clarified, even quieter now. “It was always there. Even when it was closed off or you were unconscious, I could still feel you like.. Like pressure in my head. But now it’s gone. I haven’t felt anything since…. Since the kitchen that first night.”

He opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. His jaw tensed. His fingers curled slightly into the fabric of Eddie’s shirt, like he was trying to hold onto something slipping away.

It was a long few minutes before he finally found his voice, small, hesitant, afraid. “I… I can’t feel you either. I-I didn’t say anything because I thought it was just me being… Broken or-or something. But it’s been like this for a while. And I…” He took a shaking breath in. “I’ve been really cold too. I can’t… I can’t warm up Eds. Not even with blood. Not even here with you.”

Eddie sat up then, slowly, carefully, wincing as his joints protested. The position wasn’t comfortable, but he needed to be closer. He needed to see Steve’s eyes.

“Steve…” He whispered, reaching up and gently cupping his cheek. “Hey. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

A whine slipped from his throat, broken, desperate. “I don’t know how to stop it.” He whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t even know I was doing it. I.. I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

“I know sweetheart. I know.” Eddie murmured, brushing his thumb along Steve’s cheek. “It feels like… Like what I did in the lab, when I blocked you out to try and protect you. It feels like that. But this time you’re doing it.”

He shook his head, trembling. “But why would I do that? I don’t.. I didn’t want to cut you off. I don’t want that.”

“I don’t think it’s on purpose.” Eddie said, voice steady, trying to keep him calm. “I think maybe it’s.. Trauma? Or something the lab did. Or maybe your body’s just trying to protect itself the only way it knows how…” A pause before he quietly added in. “Or maybe.. It’s trying to protect me.”

Steve closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth of Eddie’s hand. “I hate it. I hate not feeling you. I hate the cold. It’s like I’m… Disconnected from myself.. I’m disconnected from you. I hate it.”

“You’re not.” Eddie’s voice, fierce now, but still gentle. “You’re right here with me. And we’re going to figure this out, okay?”

He nodded, barely.

“I’m not leaving sweetheart. Even if the bond never comes back. Even if it takes weeks or months to fix. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m scared.” He finally admitted, whispering now. “That I’m going to lose myself again. That something got broken in that place and I’ll never be… I’ll never be me again.”

“You are you.” Eddie said firmly, putting both his hands on Steve’s cheeks now. “You’re different from how you were before but you’re still you. The you who snorts when he laughs too hard. The you who loves too much and says too little. The you who likes sprinkles on his sundae. You’re mine. No broken bond is going to change that.”

Steve’s eyes welled up, he bit his lip hard, trying not to cry.

Eddie leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We’ll figure it out Stevie. Together. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded again, this time with a little more strength behind it.

They stayed like that for a long while, curled into each other as the television played forgotten in the background. The bond might have been quiet- muted or broken. But the connection between them was still there, unspoken and stubbornly real.

Eventually, Eddie broke the silence again, this time gently. “Maybe… Maybe tomorrow we can ask the Doc if he knows anything about Wayne. What he’s been doing or… Or how he is.”

Steve didn’t respond right away, but after a few quiet seconds he gave a small nod against Eddie’s shoulder. “Tomorrow.”

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter 24: Oh To Be In Love

Summary:

They're in love.
But life still goes on

Notes:

There's no sex in this chapter. Though I thought about adding it. I just love writing these boys obsessed with each other. And I shall continue to do so!

“I didn’t think it would just shatter!” Steve shouted defensively, hands thrown in the air.

Steve, Eddie, and ‘Doc’ were in the gym, standing in front of what Steve was assured was a reinforced punching bag. The stand had snapped into pieces which were scattered across the room. The bag itself had split open at the seams, guts of stuffing hanging loose, and the concrete wall behind it was visibly dented, spiderweb cracks radiating out like an explosion had gone off.

Eddie was doubled over, wheezing with laughter, one hand braced on his knee. The other clutching his ribs. “You.. You obliterated it Harrington!”

Steve shot him a look that landed somewhere between exasperation and horror.

The doctor, surprisingly unbothered, walked over to the destroyed bag. Crouching down to inspect the torn canvas and bits of broken base. “Well… I admit I thought something like this might happen.” He said, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Though I underestimated the extent.”

Doc turned back to the two of them, and raised an eyebrow at Eddie, still half on the floor. “Mr. Munson, if you’d be so kind as to pick yourself up. Laughing on the floor like a hyena isn’t exactly helpful.”

Eddie grinned, not even pretending to hide his amusement, but obediently pushed himself upright. Dusting off the back of his new jeans. “No promises I won’t go down again if he punches another one.”

Steve groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah but… I didn’t think I'd break the damn wall.” He motioned to the cracked concrete with an embarrassed grimace.

The man only hummed thoughtfully. “Not an issue. I’ll have to repair it. If it happens again, I’ll just fix it again. Like I said.. This was expected.”

Steve gave him a skeptical look. “You.. Expected this?”

“You’ve been starved- of food, blood, rest, and connection for months. Years if we don’t count the two moments you and Edward over there were in the same room. Or the small trays of food they gave you. But now, for the first time, your system’s stabilizing. Your strength is no longer being suppressed by survival instincts.” He pointed toward the wreckage. “Even before they took you, I can only assume you were holding back to protect your friends. This, this is what it means to exist without holding back.”

Eddie let out a low whistle, walking over to stand beside Steve. “So what you’re saying is.. Steve’s basically a vampire Hulk now?”

The doctor offered a faint smile. “With better hair.” He joked.

Steve groaned again, rubbing his eyes. “Great.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “Come on man. You cracked a concrete wall. That’s pretty metal.”

He glanced at him sideways. “You didn’t say that when I almost knocked you through a doorway yesterday.”

“I was caught off guard!” Eddie protested, then grinned. “Also- that was metal too.”

The doctor cleared his throat, stepping back. “You’ll need to start training soon. Focused sessions. Your instincts are strong, but your control needs to catch up.”

“Training?” He raised a brow.

“Preferably somewhere with less drywall. Which. Thankfully, the training room is finally done.” The doctor muttered, giving the wall another glance. Then, more firmly. “You and Munson will be working together there.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Me?”

“Yes you. Besides the fact that you trust one another. I don’t believe you see any other vampires around here?.. No?” He turned to leave, already making notes on a clipboard he had with him. “You’ll both need it.”

“But I’m not as strong?” Eddie stated, confused.

“You might not be at the moment. And maybe you’ll never be, your abilities are really an unknown. But Steve has had longer to adjust both in and out of the lab than you have. While you may have been in that.. Upside Down area as a vampire. From what you said you were more focused on getting out than testing out your abilities. So. It may just be that you need to stretch them out some more… But I’ll be back in the computer lab making more adjustments today if you wind up breaking anything else.” He finished, amused.

As the doctor disappeared down the hall, Eddie turned back to Steve. A mischievous look in his eyes. “Sooo… Wanna go break the other wall and call it a warm-up?”

He just shook his head, trying not to smile. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Eddie grinned, eyes softening. “I know.”

Steve exhaled sharply, letting the tension bleed out. Without thinking, he kicked one of the broken metal pieces of the stand. It went screeching across the floor and hit the far wall with a clang that echoed through the gym.

“Guess that’s done with… Could use some more blood.” He muttered, already turning for the door.

But he didn’t make it far.

Strong arms suddenly wrapped around his waist from behind, halting his stride. “Nope.” Eddie said softly, into his ear, voice teasing but thick with affection. “You don’t get to storm off all broody after doing something hot like that without consequences.”

Before he could respond, Eddie spun him- just enough to knock him off balance. With a quiet laugh, he caught Steve again mid-turn, one hand still firm around his waist as he pulled him in close.

And then Eddie kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful.

It was the kind of kiss that curled Steve’s toes inside his sneakers, that made his brain forget what being annoyed even felt like. One hand fisted in Eddie’s shirt, the other sliding up to cup the back of his neck as he melted into it. A warmth spreading across his chest. A tightness in his gut.

When they finally parted, Steve’s lips were swollen and his breath came short, eyes wide and dazed. He loved the breathless feeling Eddie left him with.

Eddie grinned down at him, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. “Still mad you broke the wall?”

He blinked, then huffed out a quiet laugh. “I don’t even remember what a wall is.”

“Good.” Eddie pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Now c’mon vampire Hulk. Let’s go break something else. Preferably not your own ego.”

He groaned. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet…” Eddie drawled, stealing another kiss. “You’re still standing here.”

“Yeah.” He whispered against Eddie’s lips. “I am.”

Steve let out a soft huff against Eddie’s mouth, the last kiss still lingering between them, warm and heady. He lifted his head just enough to nip at Eddie’s lower lip- playful, sharp. Letting the edge of a fang graze it ever so slightly.

Eddie hissed in a breath, his pupils blown wide. “Oh you’re asking for it now.”

He smirked, brushing a thumb across Eddie’s jaw before slipping out of his grasp with impossible ease. “Catch me then Munson.” He said, sauntering toward the door, hips swinging just enough to be a challenge.

Eddie was on him before he could take three steps.

With a blur of movement and a low growl, Eddie tackled him from behind, arms wrapping tight around his middle. As they went down, Eddie twisted at the last second, one hand cradling the back of Steve’s head to keep it from hitting the hard ground. They landed in a tangle of limbs in the middle of the room. Laughter and soft grunts echoing around the gym.

He barely had time to gasp before Eddie kissed him again- hard and eager, all teeth and want. Steve responded instantly, grabbing handfuls of Eddie’s shirt, his fingers curling like he could somehow pull them even closer.

They didn’t stop.

There was no need to break apart for air, no rush or pause to rest. There was nowhere else they needed to be.

Time melted into heat and movement, and the press of mouths that never grew tired. Bodies slotting together like they were made for this. A hum of energy buzzed under his skin- some supernatural echo of the bond. Something pushing through the cracks in the block. Unrestrained. He could feel just the hints of Eddie, and Eddie could feel hints of him too.

It was dizzying. A muffled feedback loop.

Hands roamed, lips parted and connected again, and again. Every time they broke apart it was only by a breath’s distance, like neither of them could bear the space. Eddie kissed his way down to Steve’s jaw, then right back up, teeth scraping against his jaw. And Steve dragged his fingers through Eddie’s curls, tugging him like gravity itself was on his side.

At some point, Steve flipped them over, grinning against Eddie’s mouth. And Eddie just laughed, completely wrecked and happy about it. Their legs tangled, their clothes rumpled, but neither of them cared. Not when they had this. Not when they had each other- finally, fully, without holding back.

An hour passed without notice.

It was just them. On the gym floor. Wrapped in each other like nothing else existed.

And honestly, for a while, it didn’t.

---

They didn’t hear the door creak open.

Didn’t hear the slow, purposefully footsteps across the gym floor.

Not until a voice- amused, dry, and slightly accusatory. Broke through the haze.

“Well.. This explains why I’ve been looking for you two for the past ten minutes.”

Steve startled, but Eddie just let his head fall back against the floor with a groan. He blinked up from where he was nestled half on top of Eddie, lips kiss-bitten, hair a complete mess, his sweatshirt tugged halfway off one shoulder.

Eddie’s curls were a disaster, his shirt rucked up, belt undone. Their legs were still tangled, hands resting lazily in places that were definitely not ‘just friends’ anymore.

The doctor stood over them, arms folded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He rolled his eyes, more fond than annoyed, and added. “I thought perhaps you’d wandered into the training room, or heaven forbid, got distracted in the sitting room.” He added under his breath “Not that I want to go back in there until I have that couch dry cleaned.” He raised a brow. “But no. You’re still here. In the gym.. For nearly three hours.”

Steve opened his mouth, trying for words. Then laughed instead- a little sheepish, a little breathless. “Time got away from us?” He tried.

Eddie, grinning wide and unrepentant, looked up at the man. “Hey. It’s not our fault it’s.. Things feel differently now, you know.. Plus this is much more fun than sparring.”

The man gave an exaggerated sigh and looked up at the ceiling. “Yes, yes. I’m terribly heartbroken that the two of you have fallen madly in love and are now incapable of spending five consecutive minutes apart.”

Steve gave an embarrassed smile. Ducking his head into Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie just tightened his arms around him.

“Come on, lovebirds.” He continued, stepping back toward the door. “You can kiss all you like- but preferably not on the floor of the gym. Shower, change, maybe rejoin the rest of the world?”

He left with a chuckle as Eddie called out. “What world?! You’re literally the only other person here!”

Steve shifted, peering down at Eddie with a lopsided grin. “We’ve been making out for three hours?”

Eddie waggled his brows. “New personal best. Wanna try for four?”

He laughed again, full and bright, then leaned in and stole one more kiss. “Okay, now we can go.”

“Race you to the shower?” Eddie smirked, already pulling him up.

“Only if we make out in there too.”

“Oh my Harrington, how forward!... You have yourself a deal.”

---

The water beat a steady rhythm from the showerheads above, echoing softly in the open space. The gym showers were warm the water running forgotten, steam curling along the tile walls. Though neither of them were paying it much attention.

Steve’s back hit the slick tile with a soft thud, a breathless laugh slipping out before it was swallowed by Eddie. His legs were wrapped tight around Eddie’s hips, ankles locked at the small of his back. His damp shirt clung to him, pushed halfway up his chest, water soaking through the fabric.

Eddie’s own shirt hung open, ‘accidentally’ ripped by Steve’s new found strength, plastered to his shoulders. His curls dripping against his cheeks. Eddie had his wrists pinned above his head, fingers locked tight around them. Not too rough- just enough to make Steve’s knees weak.

“Still not tired of me?” Eddie whispered against Steve’s jaw, lips dragging to his neck.

He let out a low, content noise. The kind only Eddie got to hear. “Three hours and counting Munson. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Eddie grinned against his skin, a hint of fang making itself known. “Good.” He rolled his hips forward, just enough to make Steve gasp, the sound echoing off the tiles. The water kept pouring over them, their soaked clothes clinging tighter with every breathless kiss.

Steve twisted in Eddie’s grip, testing the hold on his wrists, but made no real effort to escape. “You gonna let me go? Steve teased, his eyes hooded, cheeks flushed with a barely there pink.

Eddie leaned in, pressing another kiss to his mouth- slow, deep, unhurried. “Not a chance.”

And Steve didn’t want him to.

Not when the rest of the world was quiet. Not when the only thing that mattered was the way Eddie was holding him, like he was something precious- something worth staying for.

The steam curled around them like a veil, blurring the edges of everything but this. Wet clothes, slick skin, warm mouths, and hands that had finally, finally found each other. His breath caught against Eddie’s lips, their foreheads resting together in the space between kisses. Stray drops of water rolled down his spine, the world muffled under steam and barely there heartbeats.

In a whisper so soft it almost got lost in the mist, he murmured. “Is this real?”

Eddie stilled for just a heartbeat, his eyes searching Steve’s like he wanted to memorize the exact way he looked in this moment- flushed, lips kissed swollen, chest rising and falling slow, despite everything.

Then Eddie leaned in again, kissing him deep. Slow, grounding, like he was trying to pour the truth into Steve through a kiss. When he pulled back, his voice was hoarse with emotion, but steady. “Yeah Stevie.” He whispered, brushing his nose down over Steve’s jaw. “This is real.”

Steve let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed as his body relaxed fully into Eddie’s hold, like the words had stitched something back together inside him.

And Eddie held him tighter. Just to prove it.

---

The doctor stood in the kitchen, hands on his hips like a father scolding his children. His brows were raised, but the amused twitch of his mouth, and the scent pouring off of him, betrayed any real attempt at sternness.

Steve and Eddie sat at the table, both looking like they’d just barely survived a war- or maybe started one. He was nearly perched on Eddie’s thigh, their chairs pulled together in a lazy defiance of personal space. Their lips were kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed, and telltale bruises bloomed across their necks like ink stains.

They hadn’t fully dried off before they were sprinting from the showers. Only having broken apart when they’d heard Doc’s voice echoing down the hallway.

“Honestly.” The man sighed, shaking his head, though his eyes sparkled with warmth. “I said go clean off in the showers. I didn’t expect you two to try and… That one might be on me. I should have said separate showers.”

He ducked his head, trying to hide the grin tugging at his lips. Eddie just gave an unapologetic shrug, arm looped around Steve’s waist. “We were… Decompressing.” Eddie said, entirely too smug.

“Sure.” The man replied dryly. “Just try not to decompress directly through the walls next time. Or the furniture… Or each other… Or on the couch.. Again.”

Steve snorted, burying his face in his hands to muggle his laugh. Eddie, completely unbothered, just grinned, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Steve’s damp hair. “Got it, Doc.” Eddie said, far too cheerfully. “We’ll keep the chaos to a minimum.”

“No, you won’t.” The man muttered as he turned toward the stove. “But I appreciate the lie.” He reached for the kettle, but paused mid-motion. “Thanks to your… Extracurriculars. Lunch and our chat will be late now. So sit tight. Since apparently you’re both going to need the calories.”

Eddie turned his head toward Steve, eyes sparkling with something fierce and warm, whispered. “Guess we better earn it.”

He elbowed Eddie in the ribs, but instead of moving away, scooted in closer. Resting more of his weight against Eddie’s side. “So um.. You said. You said you might have some information for us?” He asked the doctor.

“Ah yes. I suppose asking to wait until after we’ve eaten is a bit much.” The man began, returning his attention to the counter as he began preparing -eggs maybe, or soup?-. “You asked about Wayne Munson.”

The air in the room shifted.

Both he and Eddie froze, every muscle in their bodies tensing. Hope warred with dread. They didn’t speak, didn’t dare to move. Didn’t even breathe.

“It seems,” the man continued gently, “he’s been doing well for himself.”

They sagged in unison, tension relating from their shoulders. Though the worry hadn’t fully faded.

“He’s still working at the plant.” He went on. “But with the money the government provided him, he’s been able to take a few extra days off here and there. He isn’t living an extravagant life just taking care of himself.”

Steve gave a breathless laugh, almost scoffing. “Well, yeah. I could’ve told you that. I was around for a little while after-”

The man turned from the counter, one brow raised. “I know.” He said gently, calmly. “But I’m telling you this now because not much has changed. And that matters.. As a start.” He took a breath in, quieter now, more careful with the words he chose. “After your disappearance Steve. After he already lost the closest thing he had to a son… Wayne didn’t.. Handle it well.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched, his body still against Steve’s, but suddenly rigid. Steve reached for his hand without thinking, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. Tightly.

The man continued, his voice low but steady. “He kept it together, but just barely. He didn’t ask for help. But.. He didn’t give up either. He filed every report, showed up at every debriefing he could talk his way into. Pressed the Hawkins PD so hard they tried to have him banned from the building, though it seems one Jim Hopper prevented it.”

Steve’s eyes widened faintly at the name, but the man continued before he could ask anything.

“When the leads dried up, he started asking questions- dangerous ones. To people the government didn’t want him talking to. Started trying to find a way, legally, around those NDA’s. He started talking to people with loose ties to.. This side of things.” He glanced up. “He didn’t stop looking for you, Steve. He still hasn’t.”

Eddie’s mouth parted, like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. His other hand curled around Steve’s leg beneath the table, claws pressing tightly against Steve’s skin.

Steve blinked back the burning in his eyes. His voice cracked when he spoke. “Is he… Is he okay now?”

The man nodded, slowly. “He’s not whole. But he’s still fighting. Still hoping. Still believing you’re out there. Alive.”

A silence settled over the room, not heavy, but thoughtful. Charged with a fragile kind of hope.

“As for the official story…” The doctor said after a moment, turning back to the shove. The scent of butter and bread and something warm was filling the air. -Grilled cheese and tomato soup.- “The official story is that Jason Carver didn’t die that day in the Creel House. It says he came after you.. Officially, you’re missing. Presumed dead.”

Eddie’s breath hitched beside him, and Steve’s hand tightened in his.

“But the real story?” The man continued. “That one’s harder. More tangled. I don’t want to feed you fragments and worry you more than necessary. So I just need some more time.”

Steve swallowed hard, his voice a low murmur. “..Okay.”

Eddie nodded beside him. “We can.. Wait.”

The man glanced back over his shoulder, eyes softer now. “You’ve waited this long. A little more patience won’t kill you… Not a second time at least.” He turned back to the stove.

Behind the quiet clinking of pans and a low bubbling soup, Steve leaned his head onto Eddie’s shoulder, their hands still tightly clasped.

Lunch had passed in relative silence after that. The scrape of spoons against bowls and the occasional crunch of warm bread were the only sounds to break the quiet- aside from the doctor’s calm, measured voice. He spoke in fragments around the food, offering updates. Pieces of the lives they’d left behind. The ones still moving without them.

But the questions they didn’t ask, the ones they couldn’t, hung heavily between them.

“The town’s managed to clean up, at least as best as it could.” The doctor said mildly from the kitchen, cleaning the dishes. “But the scars are still there. Some of the cracks running through it couldn’t be fixed.”

Neither of them responded. What could they say to that?

“There are still a lot of people who stayed behind, some even moved back. And most of them have seen… Something. I believe you called them demogorgons? They seem to slip in through the cracks still. Or appear in the woods. Anywhere, really. The government’s still crawling around, trying to hold them back. But it’s more of a deterrent than a permanent fix. A patch job at best.”

Eddie silently slid his second, half-eaten sandwich aside, suddenly unable to stomach another bite.

At one point in his cleaning, the doctor paused, glancing back at them. “Are you sure you don’t want to know how long it’s been?”

He and Eddie exchanged a brief look, they’d already been over this. They both shook their heads.

Not yet.

They weren’t ready to measure the distance between then and now. Not when it was already stretching them thin.

Finally, the question he hadn’t meant to ask but the answer he desperately wanted the man to find out.

“Your parents, it seems.” The doctor started, sipping a mug of warm tea. “Put up a half-hearted attempt at finding you. Or at least made it look like they did.. When their house was officially listed as a crime scene, between that and the damage in town. Well they told anyone who called they weren't coming back… I believe they may have told you before your.. Disappearance too.”

He paused to take another sip of tea, the silence weighing heavily on Steve.

Steve who stared down at his hand, fingers interlocked with Eddie’s. It shouldn’t hurt- he hadn’t expected anything more from them. But it still did, in a way that sat deep in his chest. Raw and sour. The way they always let him down still found new corners to bruise.

“It seems,” the doctor continued, “power of attorney for you was quietly transferred to Wayne Munson. A very helpful letter courtesy of some government agents made it look perfectly legitimate. So your parents just handed over everything to him, reluctantly though I might add. And said they wouldn’t ever be coming back.”

Steve’s breath hitched, eyes flicking up.

“The house was effectively given to you. Your trust, your car, all of it was shifted into Wayne’s care. From what I understand, he’s refused to let anyone touch any of it.”

He swallowed hard, blinking through it. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that.

The doctor continued, gentler now. “He goes into your house sometimes, ever since it stopped being a crime scene. Just to clean, do some upkeep and yard work. A neighbor overheard him telling the apparently newly reinstated Chief Hooper that it ‘needed to be livable when you returned’.”

A quiet, aching breath escaped before he could stop it. Eddie’s hand tightened around his, he didn’t let go.

Doc kept speaking, voice softer. “Your car’s parked in his garage. No one else has the keys. He won’t let anyone touch it. And your trust? I haven’t a clue. But no sign shows he’s used even a penny of it.”

Steve shut his eyes. His throat tightened, his chest too full. Wayne. Of course it was Wayne. The one person in all of Hawkins who had never asked him to be anything but himself. The man who took Eddie in and stood beside him when everyone else turned their backs.

And now he’d done the same for Steve- quietly, without fanfare, without obligation. And he’d barely even known him. How long had they known each other properly? How long had he been painting the man’s house, cooking in his kitchen, sleeping on his couch? A month? Two? Couldn’t have been more.. Could it?

“I should’ve- God. I should’ve told him about me. Actually said it out loud before everything went.. He didn’t even get to say goodbye. I didn't go over that night I just… Disappeared.”

He wiped a hand over his eyes quickly, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. Like he could push the tears back down. “He kept the house clean.” He murmured, voice shaking. “He kept my room clean.”

“Yeah.” Eddie said quietly beside him. “Because he knew you were coming home. One day.”

He let out a shaky breath, leaning heavily onto Eddie’s shoulder. Fingers still tangled together. “I don’t deserve him.” He said, voice as hollow as he felt.

Eddie kissed the side of his head, gently. “Yeah.. You do.”

They sat like that for a moment- quiet, brimming, the scent of leftover soup and sandwiches still lingering around them. Doc didn’t continue on. Just gave them the space they needed.

---

He blinked up at the ceiling, vision still hazy. Eddie’s mess of hair coming into view as he leaned over him, upside down and grinning. -Great.. Passed out again.- He thought grimly. They’d been trying to work on opening the bond back up. But unfortunately, for him, it meant exactly what had happened the first time he’d tried to focus on it. Splitting headaches, nausea, the room spinning like a carnival ride, and then blacking out.

“I heard that!” Eddie cheered, far too loud in the quiet room. “I mean, it was kind of muffled, but I heard it!”

Progress.

He groaned softly and let his head fall to the side, where the edge of the pillow was cooler. His brain felt like it had been put through a blender.

He blinked slowly up at Eddie, he almost fell asleep. A hazy smile tugged at his lips. “I could.. Touch it. It felt… I could feel the warmth, like it was real.” He lifted his hands, turning them over in front of his face. “It’s.. I think I’m close.”

Eddie sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand drifting over into Steve’s hair. “Yeah, you’re close sweetheart.” He said, voice low and steady. “I felt some pressure too. But you can try again after dinner. Give your brain a break. How ‘bout you get some rest, okay?”

He hummed in response, barely more than a breath. His eyes had drifted shut again without him noticing. “Stay?” He mumbled, cracking one eye open just enough to catch Eddie’s expression.

That smile, soft and crooked, like it was meant just for him. Made something ease in his chest. “Yeah Stevie.” Eddie whispered, already moving. “Always.”

Eddie climbed over him carefully, pressing his back against the wall and pulling Steve close against his chest. Steve’s body curling instinctively into the heat of him. “You don’t even have to ask.” Eddie added, voice almost lost in Steve’s hair.

He let out a quiet sigh as his eyes slipped closed again. With Eddie’s arms wrapped around him, it was the safest he’d felt in what could’ve been days or years. He let himself fall into it. “This is real.” Eddie whispered into his hair. It was as if his body was waiting for the confirmation, the energy draining from him at the words.

He wasn’t asleep. Not yet. But close.

And this time, when he reached toward their bond- tentative, gentle, like holding something fragile. He didn’t black out.

It shimmered at the edge of him. Warm and alive. Waiting.

He was getting closer.

Chapter 25: It's A Date

Notes:

Skip the shower scene if you aren't here for the very anticipated steamy romance.
(It starts where Steve says he wants to try something. It ends at the first horizontal line.)

“Fuck me.” Steve groaned, flopping backwards, arms spread wide, onto the cushioned mat flooring of the training room.

“I thought you weren’t ready for that yet.” Eddie wheezed from where he leaned heavily against the wall, one arm wrapped around his ribs as he slid down to sit.

Steve cracked an eye open and gave him a look. “I said that last week… Don’t make me break any more of your ribs Munson.”

“Aww, Harrington. You always know how to make a guy feel special.” Eddie grinned through the pain, eyes raking slowly over Steve. “So.. Last week? That mean you’re ready now?”

Eddie wiggled his eyebrows.

“Fuck off.” He groaned again, dragging an arm over his face.

A dry chuckle cut through the air. The doctor scribbling something onto that ever-present clipboard, his expression somewhere between fond and exasperated. “Well, I’m glad to see you two are enjoying yourselves. Eddie, it seems my assumption was correct, you just needed time to adjust. Strength, coordination, even your reflexes are finally catching up.”

“Aww thanks Doc. A month of being down here will do that to a guy.”

‘Doc’ rolled his eyes walking past them to inspect a newly fractured section of concrete. A splintered hole marked the latest impact, one of five that they’ve put in the training room, in just the last two days.

He signed. “I’ll patch this up tomorrow. Which means you’re both getting the day off.”

Steve blinked up at him from the floor. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Because I’d prefer not to come in and find the entire wall blown out. Or.. God forbid. A third ruined couch.

Both he and Eddie glanced away, cheeks coloring in tandem.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Okay but one of those was definitely not our fault.”

The doctor turned away, muttering. “Sure it wasn’t Munson. Sure it wasn’t.” Then, louder, though he knew they heard him before. “Now go shower. Separately! And if anything still hurts after, let me know. Though, given how quickly you two bounce back as of late. I doubt it will.”

Steve pulled himself to his feet with a wince. “C’mon, rockstar. I think the wall won this round against the both of us.”

Eddie groaned as he stood, eyes drifting toward Steve again. “I let it win. Wanted to make you feel strong.”

He snorted. “Yeah, yeah.” Quieter, so the doctor wouldn’t hear. “Save it for the next couch.”

They walked out of the gym slowly, bruised and battered but grinning all the same. Steve rubbed at his shoulder as they made their way down the quiet hallway, the overhead lights buzzing softly above them. Eddie drifted closer with each step, until his weight leaned solidly against Steve’s side.

“You good?” Steve asked, nudging him gently with his elbow.

Eddie hummed. “Yeah. Just a little tired. And a little broken.” He smirked. “You hit harder than you look.. Hulk.”

He rolled his eyes, steadying Eddie with a hand on his waist. “You’re the one who threw yourself into a wall.”

“Gotta keep things interesting somehow.”

By the time they reached the split in the hallway, rooms and showers to the left and right. Eddie slowed, then stopped altogether. Steve made to head toward his room on the left, but Eddie grabbed his wrist before he could take more than a step.

“Wait.” Eddie’s voice was low, a bit breathless. His fingers danced up Steve’s wrist. “Come with me.”

He stared down at their hands, caught off guard. “I thought we were under strict separate shower orders.” He joked.

Eddie only grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. “Yeah, well.. I’ve never been good at following rules.”

Before he could protest, or pretend to, Eddie tugged him around the corner and to the showers near his room. They had rooms on opposite ends of the hall due to their angry first night, but they never slept alone.

The handle was cold under his fingers as he pulled the door shut behind him. It wasn’t necessary but he clicked the lock. The noise echoed loudly in the quiet.

Eddie quickly moved to turn on the showers, the fog of steam quickly building in the tiled room. He walked back to Steve, pulling him in by the wrist. “Just a shower.” Eddie whispered, smiling as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Steve’s jaw. “Mostly.”

Steve laughed softly, his heart beat picking up to what a human would consider normal. “You’re such a menace.”

Eddie grinned, wicked and warm. “But you love it.” he murmured, and before Steve could respond. Eddie reached down, fingers sliding beneath the hem of Steve’s sweat damp shirt. He moved slowly, eyes locked on one another, looking for any sign of discomfort, as he peeled it upward, his fingers brushing against Steve’s stomach as he tugged it off.

He barely had time to blink before Eddie reached for his own, dragging the soaked fabric over his head and tossing it somewhere vaguely toward a bench. Water beaded across Eddie’s chest as he moved under the spray, rivulets running down inked skin and the pale grooves of old scars- a story written across his skin.

Steve’s breath stopped. He reached out without thinking, palms skimming along Eddie’s ribs, across the broad stretch of his chest, fingers brushing the outline of a tattoo he always traced when they were alone. Eddie shivered under the touch, leaning in until their mouths were barely a breath apart. -Yeah.. Definitely don’t mind sharing a shower.-

“You’re so damn hot.” He whispered, almost like it wasn’t meant to be heard.

“Yeah? Then come here and do something about it.” Eddie said, voice low, hungry.

Their lips met again- hard, urgent, familiar. The water rushed around them, sheets of warmth masking the world beyond the tile. Steam curled through the air, thick and clinging, but Steve could only feel Eddie- his lips, his hands, the quiet groans vibrating between them as their mouths collided again and again.

Steve’s back met the wall with a wet thud, but he didn’t care. Not about the way his body ached. Not about their wet jeans. He pulled Eddie closer, greedy for every inch of contact, fingertips pressing into his shoulder blades like he could hold him there forever.

Eddie kissed like a man drowning- deep, confusing, with his whole damn soul behind it. And Steve matched it, gasping between kisses, the water slicking their skin until there was no telling where one ended and the other began.

And then Steve pulled back, just slightly. Lips swollen, eyes dark and shining under the mist. He rested his forehead against Eddie’s and let his hands trail down- slowly, deliberately. From Eddie’s chest to the curve of his ribs, then lower. Brushing along the lines of his stomach, stopping with his hands on the button of Eddie’s soaked jeans.

“I.. Want to try something.” Steve murmured, voice low, rough, almost lost in the rush of the shower.

Eddie shivered beneath the touch, breath hitching, his hands tightening where they gripped Steve’s hips. “Yeah?” He breathed, eyes locked on Steve’s. They hadn’t gone this far yet. Just some grinding, touching over clothes, hickies hidden under shirts.

He nodded, letting his fingers travel along the dip just above Eddie’s waistband, suggestive and teasing. Not letting his nerves show through. “Yeah. Just.. Let me?”

Eddie's mouth parted slightly, lips still red. His answer came out as more breath than sound, but it was unmistakable. “Anything you want Stevie.” He nodded, and Steve quickly got to work, flipping them so Eddie had his back to the shower wall.

He paused for a second, pulling back so he can look into Eddie’s wide eyes. When Eddie gives a singular nod. Steve let his hands slowly move down. A soft gasp catching in his throat as he traces the bulge straining through Eddie’s shower soaked jeans.

He let his fingertips slowly, barely there, trace the outline, the wet jeans leaving nothing to the imagination. -Fuck he’s.. He’s.. Big.- His eyes flicker up, a grin stretching Eddie’s lips. Had he heard?

Taking a deep breath in, the warm water rushing down his back, Steve looked back down with careful determination. While he had never done this before, he’s had it done to him plenty. He knew what he liked all he had to do was.. Copy it. In theory.

With his heart now pounding in his chest, he took on another shaky breath, steadying himself. Looking Eddie in his eyes he slowly sank to his knees, letting his hand trail down as he did. His jeans clung to him tightly, uncomfortably, but he didn’t care. Not with the way Eddie loomed above him, water dripping off his curls. Eyes dark, hungry.

“Fuck.” Eddie muttered under his breath, watching every move, hands flexing like he wasn’t sure where to put them.

He let his eyes slowly trail down, stopping on the bulge now right in front of him. Straining against the soaked denim, impossibly obvious now. He nervously licked over his lips. Slowly he leaned in, hesitant. He stole one last quick glance at Eddie, who was staring down intensely. His eyes nearly black as he watched every hint of movement, every twitch.

Glancing back down Steve carefully pressed his mouth against the clothed bulge, lips brushing over the rough wet fabric. The heat radiated through, and he could feel the shape of Eddie beneath him. Hard, thick. He mouthed at it carefully, dragging his lips along the sides. Tasting the mix of water and faint musk through the jeans.

Above him, Eddie bit his lip. A low groan slipping out despite his efforts. His hips twitched forward involuntarily, pressing himself harder against Steve’s mouth. “S-Shit man.. That’s…” He rasped, one hand finally settling on the back of Steve’s head. Fingers threading through wet hair, not pushing, just holding.

Steve kept going, letting his tongue press flat against the fabric, dragging up the length as best he could. His hands gripping Eddie’s thighs for balance, feeling the tension in the muscle under his fingers.

Every groan from Eddie spurred him on, made his own arousal throb painfully between his legs. But this wasn’t about him right now. This was about seeing how far he could push, how much he could make Eddie unravel. And despite having never done this before, he found himself enjoying it. Enjoying every hitched breath or low groan he pulled from his boyfriend.

He stopped for a second to breathe, letting hot air puff against the wet denim. He closed his eyes for a second. Letting the different scents wash over him. Eddie, himself, the thick scent of arousal, the way every twitch Eddie made gave off a new wave of scents. After the moment passed he began again, sucking lightly through the fabric, teeth grazing just enough to tease. He loved it when girls did this to him.

Eddie’s groans turned sharper. -And apparently so does he.- “Goddamn, you’re killin’ me Stevie.” Eddie growled, voice rough and low. His hand tightening in Steve’s hair. “You gonna keep teasin’ me or what?”

Steve smirked against the fabric, finally glancing back up to meet Eddie’s eyes- dark, desperate, and locked on him. “Patientce.” He muttered, voice thick with want, before letting his hands slide up from Eddie’s thighs to his hips. He moved his fingers slowly, deliberately, finding the button of his soaked jeans.

He fumbled for a second, the wet metal slippery. But it popped open with a small tug, the metal clinking against the tile as the button flew off. Eddie sucked in a breath, his chest heaving. Watching Steve’s every move. “Fuck, yeah. Keep goin’.” He urged, voice barely above a whisper, raw with need.

He hesitated at the zipper, dragging it out just a little longer. Letting the tension build, letting his nerves settle. He could feel Eddie trembling under him, could hear the way his breath hitched with every tiny movement. Finally, he tugged the zipper down, the sound seemingly amplified for them, despite the rushing water.

Steve’s hand shook, just barely, as he gripped the waistband of the jeans. His nerves buzzing under his skin. The fabric clung stubbornly to Eddie’s legs, heavy with water. He tugged again, frustrated. With a low growl he pulled, hard. A tear echoed through the room, but the jeans finally gave way. Sliding down to bunch at Eddie’s ankles. “Fuck.” Eddie whispered, like he didn’t want to scare Steve off.

His breath hitched, heart hammering as he leaned back on his knees, the shower water still pouring down his back. His eyes locked on the bulge hidden behind black boxers. Now almost see-through, outlining every detail.

Steve swallowed hard, mouth dry despite the steam. His fingers twitched forward, hovering at the edge of the waistband. He could feel the heat radiating off Eddie, could see the way the fabric strained. “Shit.” He whispered, barely audible even to their ears, his voice betraying the nerves coiling tight in his gut.

“Take your time sweetheart.” Came Eddie’s rough reply, voice laced with hunger, but steady. Almost reassuring. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve nodded to himself, fingers finally hooking around the waistband. He tugged slowly, the wet boxers peeling away from Eddie’s skin. Dragging down inch by inch. His heart felt like it was beating more now than during their escape from the lab.

As the boxers slid past Eddie’s hips, his cock finally sprang free. Hard and heavy. Smacking lightly against Steve’s cheek. The sudden contact made him flinch, a sharp gasp escaping as he jerked back. Just barely. His cheeks heating up.

“Fuck, sorry.” Eddie rasped, a low chuckle threading through his words. Though his breath was uneven. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He joked.

Steve shook his head, blinking water from his eyes, still reeling from the weight and warmth that had brushed his face. “S’fine.” He mumbled, voice thick. His gaze fixed on what was right in front of him. It was bigger than he thought, thicker than he expected.

And the reality of it- hard, flushed, and glistening with a mix of water and pre, made his stomach twist with a mix of want and uncertainty. His hand rested on Eddie’s thighs, fingers digging in just a little as he steadied himself.

“Still good?” Eddie asked, voice dropping lower. His hand, still in Steve’s hair, gave a gentle scratch against his scalp. The touch gentle, but heavy with intent.

“Yeah.” Steve rasped, nodding again. More to convince himself than anything. “Just.. Gimmie a second.” His eyes flicked up briefly, catching the want written in Eddie’s gaze, then dropped back down, taking it all in. The way the stray water trailed down his chest, over his thighs, the way his cock gave a subtle twitch under Steve’s gaze. His hands slid up, closer, hesitant but drawn in. The need to touch starting to outweigh the nerves clawing at him.

He licked over his lips again, a need in his gut clawing at him as he stared at the hard length in front of him. He’d never done this before, never even thought about it until now. But the urge was overwhelming, a deep aching want that drowned out the nerves still fluttering in his chest, his gut. His breath came in short, shaky puffs, water dripping from his hair into his eyes as he leaned in closer. Hand trembling slightly.

He hesitated for just a second, shyness creeping back in as his hand hovered near the base. The heat radiating against his face from how close he leaned in. Then, slowly, tentatively, he wrapped his hand around Eddie. A groan escaping them both when his fingers could hardly close.

But it wasn’t enough. He leaned in closer, pressing his mouth against him. Just a soft, experimental brush at first, lips barely parting as he mouthed at the head. The taste of salt and skin hit him, unfamiliar but not unpleasant, and his tongue flicked out on instinct, testing.

“Easy there.” Came the low rasp from above him, heavy with restraint. He twitched, preventing a flinch as he somehow, forgot about Eddie. “Just.. Take it slow, okay? And if you’re gonna continue.. Make sure to watch your teeth sweetheart.” He added, softly. His fingers twitching in Steve’s hair.

Steve’s cheeks burned at the reminder, a shy nod jerking his head as he adjusted his grip. He’s had this done plenty of times- girls with soft mouths and teasing tongues, knowing exactly how to get him off. All he had to do was mimic that, right? He could do this. He wanted to do this.

He started slow, something he liked himself. Letting his tongue drag flat along the underside, tracing his way up before swirling slowly around the tip. His hand lightly squeezed around the base, steadying himself as much as Eddie. And he slowly started to take him into his mouth, lips stretching. It was awkward at first, the weight and heat were more than he expected, but he pushed past the uncertainty, focused on the little things- sucking lightly, moving his tongue in slow, deliberate strokes, the way he knew he liked and hoped Eddie did too.

“Fuck, that’s it. That’s good Stevie.” Eddie groaned above him, quiet but raw. The hand in his hair tugging lightly, just enough to encourage without forcing. “Just like that.. Fuck!”

The praise hit him like a spark, igniting something eager and hungry in him. He started to move faster, still unsure but eager. Taking more, letting Eddie slide in deeper as he found his rhythm. The ache in his jaw, the taste, the barely muffled sounds and low groans- it wasn’t just okay, it was good, really good. He loved it, the way it felt to have Eddie in his mouth. The way every little flick or suck pulled a new sound from above him. His own arousal throbbed, aching between his legs. But this wasn’t about him right now. It was about the heat, the need, the surprising thrill of giving this kind of pleasure.

He pulled back slightly, just to clear his head for a second, to feel the weight in his hand. Lips slick and swollen as he glanced up, through the now heavy steam, catching the dark, heavy-lidded gaze locked on him. “This okay?” He mumbled, voice rough, a little shy but edged with newfound confidence.

“Better than okay.” Came the growled response, hand tightening in his hair. “Keep goin’, fuck please Stevie. Don’t stop now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned back down, more eager now. Sucking harder, letting his tongue work along each inch he could reach. His hand moved in tandem, stroking what he was still too nervous to try and take, slick with water and spit.

The sounds above him grew louder, less controlled. “Fuck Stevie! Fuckin’ perfect!” Rough groans and sharp breath that only fueled him more. He loved this, loved the power in it. The way he could feel the tension building, the way he was unraveling the man above him with every eager stroke.

He was lost in it now, every second of this new experience igniting something wild and hungry inside him. The heat, the weight on his tongue, the way his lips stretched- it was overwhelming in the best way. His jaw ached, but he didn’t care, not when every suck and flick pulled raw desperate sound from above him. His own cock throbbed painfully between his legs, but he was too far gone to think about anything but the act, the rhythm, the need to keep going.

“Fuck Stevie you’re just a natural born cocksucker, aren’t ‘ya?” Eddie broke through the haze, growling rough above him. Voice cracking with pleasure. “Look at you. Takin’ it like a goddamn pro. Best mouth I’ve ever had. Shit!”

Steve’s eyes fluttered at the words, heat rushing through him. He let his teeth graze over the cock, tongue working along the thick length. His free hand gripped tighter on the wet thigh in front of him, anchoring himself as he bobbed faster, chasing more of those filthy praises.

“Fuck baby that’s it. Suckin’ me off like you were made for it. Fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie continued, getting louder. “Didn’t think you’d be able to take this much. But you’re goddamn unreal. Fuckin’ perfect on your knees.”

A sudden tug on his hair had a moan ripping out of his throat before he could stop it, not that he wanted to. The sharp pull sending a jolt straight to his core. Without warning, hips thrust forward, hard. Eddie’s cock shoving its way deeper, hitting the back of his throat in one rough motion. His eyes widened for a split second, before they fluttered closed as his vision swam with pleasure.

“Shit! Sorry, didn’t mean to-..” Eddie suddenly cut off, strained with concern, hips pulling back just slightly.

But Steve let out a loud, desperate whine. The sound muffled but clear, his hips jerking forward instinctively, grinding against the leg in front of him. He didn’t pull back, didn’t want to. Instead, he pushed forward, taking it deeper, showing he could handle it. That he wanted it.

“Fuckin’..” Came the amazed grunt, a hand tightening in his hair again, holding him in place. “You got no gag reflex? Fuck baby that’s.. You’re somethin’ else.”

Before Steve could process the words, hips thrust again. Purposefully this time. The stretch, the heat, the way it filled him completely- it was too much and not enough all at once. A rough hand held him down, keeping him still. Cock buried to the hilt, lips stretched, kissing skin. Steve’s whole body shuddered, another whine vibrating around it as his hips jerked roughly.

“Shit! Stay there, just like that.” Eddie growled out, raw and commanding. “Take it all, fuckin’- You love this, don’t ya’? Chokin’ on me like a goddamn whore. Fuck!”

He could only moan in response, eyes half-lidded and glassy, lost in the overwhelming sensation. The hand in his hair kept him steady. The thrusts coming harder now, each one pushing deeper, testing his limits but never crossing them. He didn’t just take it- he craved it, every rough slide, every filthy word, every second of being held there, used like this. His own need pulsed hot and heavy, but all he could focus on was the cock in his throat, the way it owned him in this moment. And how much he was loving every second of it.

Suddenly, the grip in Steve’s hair tightened, and he was pulled back with a wet pop. His lips slick and swollen, drool trailing down his chin. He barely had a second to register the loss before rough, but gentle, hands cupped behind his ears, guiding him forward again forcefully. “Fuck baby can’t stop now. Just needed to do this.” Came the ragged growl from above as his throat was filled once more, the thick length shoving deep in one hard thrust.

Steve moaned, the sound muffled and desperate, vibrating around the cock as it slid in and out, the pace turning brutal, chasing raw pleasure. His mouth was a mess, drool spilling over, mixing with the water from the shower as he surrendered completely to being used like this. He briefly remembered he didn’t need to try and force in a breath, and it only made the sensation sharper. Every thrust hitting deeper, filling him in a way that made his whole body tremble.

His hands reacted on instinct, claws popping out, scratching against the wet thigh in front of him. His other hand clenched hard around his knee, having fallen useless as he no longer had anything to hold onto. His hips jerked helplessly, grinding against nothing but air now. The pain of his own need mixed with the overwhelming pleasure of his throat being fucked, and he was lost in it, every nerve alight.

“Goddamn Steve you’re so fuckin’ good at this. How the- Fuck! How have you never done this before?” Eddie panted, loud and wrecked. “Look at you, takin’ it like a champ. Hottest thing I’ve ever seen, swear to- Fuck! So beautiful like this, droolin’ all over me. Lettin’ me use you. Feels so fuckin’ good, you’ve no idea.”

His chest burned with the praise, each word sinking into him, fueling the haze of pleasure clouding his mind. His eyes fluttered open, heavy and glassy, locking onto the dark intense gaze above. The heat in that stare, the raw want, hit him like a punch. And he moaned louder, throat tightening.

“Fuck, that’s it. Keep lookin’ at me baby.” He growled out, hands yanking him down roughly, burying himself as deep as possible. A sharp, guttural groan tore out as hot thick cum started spilling into Steve’s throat. An obscene amount if he was being honest, more than he could’ve imagined. And it just kept coming, flooding down his throat, around the cock in his mouth.

And the voice above him turned frantic. “Shit! Sorry baby is it too much? I know I can’t-. Fuck, it feels to good to pull out. Been like this since I changed. Too fuckin’ much. Sorry I’ll-” He moved his hips slightly, wanting to pull back.

But Steve didn’t care. He whined, high and desperate, throat clenching as he swallowed around it. Gulping down as much as he was able. The heat and taste overwhelming every sense. It was too much, spilling out, trickling from the corners of his mouth. And then somehow, some forced its way up, leaking from his nose in a humiliating, messy drip.

His eyes rolled back, body shaking uncontrollably as pleasure raced through him. Every muscle trembling with the intensity. His claws bit deeper against Eddie’s thigh. His other hand squeezing his knee so hard it hurt, but he couldn’t pull away. Didn’t want to, lost in the raw, filthy bliss of it all.

“Fuck, you’re still takin’ it. Holy shit.” Eddie rasped, hands loosening slightly but still holding him down as the last spurts slowed. “You okay? Jesus, you’re a mess. But fuck if it isn’t the prettiest mess I’ve ever seen.”

He couldn’t answer. Just sat there on his knees, throat full, body buzzing with aftershocks as he tried to process the sheer overload of sensations, the taste still heavy on his tongue, the ache of his jaw, everything.

Carefully, the hands behind his ears pulled him backwards. And slowly, torturously, the thick length slid out of his throat. Leaving a raw, empty ache behind. A pathetic whine slipped from Steve’s lips, his tongue darting out instinctively, chasing the lingering taste as he leaned forward just a fraction, desperate for more. His mouth felt hollow without it, slick with spit and the remnants of cum still coating his tongue, his upper lip.

“Easy there.” Came Eddie’s low, rough chuckle, a hint of awe in his tone. “Greedy little thing, huh?”

Steve didn’t respond with words, just surged forward again. Pressing his tongue to the softening cock, cleaning it off with slow, deliberate licks. He dragged his tongue over every inch, lapping up the mess left behind. The salty bitter taste grounding him even as his body still shook. He worked until there was nothing left, until the skin was slick only with his spit, before finally pulling back. More like Eddie had to push him back.

He sat back onto his knees, the wet tile hard beneath him. His face was a mess, a wreck- lips swollen and red, chin dripping drool and streaks of cum, eyes glassy and half-lidded. But there was a bliss in his expression, a dazed, satisfied glow as he stared up through the steam, water still cascading over his shoulders.

“Fuck, look at you.” Eddie rasped, a hand sliding into Steve’s wet hair, petting gently, almost reverently. “Completely ruined and still so goddamn pretty. C’mere, let me take care of you now. You’ve definitely earned it.”

He tilted his head into the touch, but shook it slightly. Voice barely above a whisper, suddenly shy, and raw. “I… I already came.”

There was a beat of silence, then a low, surprised huff of laughter. “Fuck baby. Just from that? From havin’ me down your throat?”

Steve nodded, cheeks burning as he dropped his gaze, suddenly hyper-aware of the sticky mess in his own wet boxers. The way his hips had rutted helplessly against air until he’d spilled without ever being touched. “Yeah.” He mumbled, barely audible. “Couldn’t… Couldn’t hold it.”

“God baby, that’s hot.” Eddie replied, his hand tightening in Steve’s hair for a moment before petting again, softer. “You’re something else, you know that? Fuckin’ unreal. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up at least. Outta those jeans. Can’t leave you lookin’ like… Like that. You’ll get a guy goin’ again real fast.”

He let out a soft, shaky hum, still too blissed out to argue. Leaning into the touch as Eddie leaned down to help him up, to actually shower this time.

---

The tv flickered dimly across the room, a low hum of static and shifting colors dancing across the darkened walls. Some half-forgotten, muted, movie played. Neither of them paying it much attention. The glow washing over the couch they laid on, legs tangled together.

They had thrown on worn sweatshirts and old sweatpants, neither of them bothering with anything more. Eddie having to help dress Steve as his limbs felt too heavy to move.

Now Eddie’s fingers threaded lazily through Steve’s damp hair. Tracing slow, rhythmic paths. His other arm wrapped loosely around Steve’s waist, hand resting low against the curve of his back, anchoring them both. He was humming quietly, almost subconsciously. The familiar jagged melody of Master of Puppets. It was more memory than melody now, but Steve recognized it instantly.

His voice, quiet and scratchy, broke the silence. “I heard it.”

Eddie stilled. His fingers pausing mid-stroke. “Hmm? Heard what?”

He didn’t move, his face still pressed into Eddie’s chest. “Back there. In the Upside Down.” He took a second, trying to find the energy. “Mm your guitar.. The solo.” Eddie was quiet, and Steve finally leaned up, turning his head just enough to look at him. “I couldn’t see you. But I heard it.” His eyes searched Eddie’s, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I knew it was you and not just… Some weird echo. Not a recording.”

“Steve..” Eddie whispered, but he interrupted.

He swallowed, voice cracking slightly with the next words. “You were good. Really good.” He gave a short breath that might have been a laugh. “I remember.. I remember thinking I’d like to go to one of your shows, just to hear it again.” He murmured quietly, voice still rough. “I was kind of jealous.” He admitted. “When Dustin told me about, and I quote ‘the most metal concert ever’, and how he was the soul attendee.” His smile twitched with real fondness. “I would have loved to see it.”

Eddie didn’t speak- just pulled him closer, pressing a lingering kiss to Steve’s hair. He held him tighter like maybe, just maybe he could protect him retroactively from the things they’d both been through.

“But when he..” He took a second, letting his fingers dance over the fabric of Eddie’s sweatshirt. “When he begged me to help bring you back the gate was.. We didn’t have time.” He sucked in a quiet breath, the first one in a while. “I’m so sorry we left.. That I left you behind.”

“Oh Stevie.” Eddie breathed out, and this time it hurt. He pulled back, just enough to see Steve properly. To cup his cheek in one gentle hand. “You didn’t leave me. None of you did. You couldn’t.” His thumb brushed just under Steve’s eye. “You all got out. You survived. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Steve stared at him, eyes glassy with things he couldn’t quite say. The weight of guilt, of not-enough, of maybe-too-late, all tangled in the space between them.

“You fought.” Eddie said softly. “You fought to get me out of there and away from them. And that’s more than anyone had ever done for me. So don’t you dare apologize for anything alright? We’re here. We’re alive. This. This is real.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, then relaxed. He leaned into Eddie’s hand, eyes closing. A single tear slipped free, and Eddie caught it with his thumb. “I hear that solo in my head sometimes.” He admitted, quieter now. “Like a warning.. Or a promise.”

Eddie smiled faintly. “Then I’ll play it for you for real. Every damn day if you want.. I’ll ask doc for a guitar.”

His laugh was barely more than breath. “Yeah? Promise?”

“Yeah Stevie. I promise.” They sat like that, wrapped in one another and quiet absolution. The TV still flickering unnoticed in the background.

---

“Fuck!” Steve shouted. Diving and rolling out of the way just in time, as a metal table skidded across the mat where his head had been. He came up panting, hair a mess, one sock half off, glaring with mock outrage. “That’s fucking cheating Munson!”

Across the room Eddie’s grin was wolfish. “Yeah? I gotta win somehow, Harrington!” He reached down, grabbing one of the metal chairs. He spun with the momentum before flinging it- not hard, not really aiming, but enough to make Steve yelp and scramble behind one of the training dummies.

The clang of the chair hitting the floor was loud, followed quickly by Steve’s laughter as he peaked out, flushed and grinning.

“Boys!” The doctor barked over the loud speaker, his voice tight with disbelief, having said he would be watching them train through the camera this afternoon. They could hear him scribbling something on his clipboard, muttering to himself before speaking into the microphone. “I just had those walls fixed up… Again! With more reinforcements, if you break them this time I’ll… I’ll.. Remove the couches!” He finally yelled, weakly. “I know how you love those couches.”

Eddie looked at the camera horrified. “You wouldn’t!”

“I absolutely would.” The doctor said flatly.

Steve used the distraction to charge, tackling Eddie around his waist. The two of them tumbled to the floor, landing in a heap of limbs and laughter. Eddie gasping as Steve straddled his hips.

“Dirty move.” Eddie wheezed, but his hands found Steve’s waist instinctively, steadying him. “Didn’t know you played like that.”

He grinned, breathless. “Learned from the best.”

The doctor sighed loudly into the microphone, muttering about horny vampires. “Why did I even agree to this?” He asked into the microphone with a laugh as it clicked off, the light on the camera turning off as well.

They stayed there for a moment, neither in a rush to move. Steve’s hands were braced on Eddie’s chest. And Eddie was looking him over, slowly. Smile softening as he looked back up at Steve’s face.

“You’re getting faster.” Eddie murmured. Thumbs brushing under Steve’s shirt.

“You’re getting cockier.” He countered.

“I thought you liked me cocky… Or maybe just my cock.”

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t answer- just leaned down, his breath brushing Eddie’s lips.

“Shower after this?” Eddie asked casually, like he wasn't hanging on Steve’s next words.

He hummed. “Maybe.. If you behave.”

Eddie smirked. “Guess I’ll misbehave then.”

Another loud crack from the wall made them both flinch.

“That’s it!” The doctor’s voice rang out from down the hall. “I’m locking up the furniture!”

They both burst out laughing.

He grinned wickedly, and before Eddie could ask what he was thinking, Steve shifted his hips- slow and deliberate. Grinding down against him with a low hum of satisfaction. Eddie’s breath hitched, his hands tightening on Steve’s waist as his mouth fell open.

“Jesus, Stevie.” He groaned out.

Steve leaned down, stealing a quick kiss, just a brush of lips that somehow managed to be cocky and affectionate at once. “You started it.” He whispered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Then, with no warning, he pushed off Eddie’s chest and stood in one smooth motion. Leaving Eddie sprawled on the mat beneath him, blinking up at the ceiling like he’d just been struck by lightning.

Steve didn’t look back right away. He walked casually across the room to the lockers, peeling his slightly damp training shirt over his head and letting it fall into the open basket. His back muscles flexed as he moved, bruises blooming faintly across his hips both from earlier sparring, and their morning activities.

Eddie propped himself up on his elbows, watching shamelessly. “You’re evil.” Eddie called after him.

He finally pulled a soft grey sweatshirt over his head, ruffling his hair as it caught in the collar. Finally, he glanced over his shoulder, eyes sparkling. “You love it.”

Eddie groaned, letting his head fall back to the mat. “God help me, I really do.”

He rummaged in the locker, grabbing one of Eddie’s sweatshirts from the top shelf. He turned, aimed, and without warning tossed it across the room.

It smacked Eddie square in the face.

Eddie sputtered, peeling it off with an exaggerated groan. “Rude!” He said, holding it up like it had personally offended him. “This is assault.”

“You’ll live.” Steve said, fighting back a grin as he leaned against the open locker door.

Eddie finally dragged himself to his feet, brushing imaginary dust from his pants before making his way over. He stood beside Steve, close enough that their shoulders bumped as he tugged off his own shirt and dropped it to the floor. Steve didn’t look away, didn’t even pretend to. Eddie smirked as he caught his eyes.

“What?” Eddie asked, voice low.

He shrugged, but his eyes dragged slowly down Eddie’s chest. “Nothing. Just enjoying the view.”

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh, pulling the sweatshirt over his head. As he adjusted it, Steve’s fingers trailed lightly along the small of his back- casual but lingering. Eddie’s hand brushed along Steve’s hip in return, knuckles grazing warm skin just under the hem of his sweatshirt. Neither of them moved away.

They stood like that for a moment, not saying anything, just basking in the quiet hum of being close. The soft sounds of the training room replaced now with the muted buzz of fluorescent lights and the distant echo of the doctor muttering to himself somewhere down the hall.

Eddie finally bumped Steve’s arm with his own. “We gonna keep eye fucking, or are you gonna take me out for a protein shake first?”

He gently took Eddie’s hand, letting their fingers interlock. “No protein shakes. But I’ll get you something.” He tugged Eddie down the hall, their laughter echoing faintly behind them as they moved. The hallways were dim at the moment, seeming to mimic the sun outside.

Steve didn’t let go until they got to the kitchen. He flicked on the overhead light, bathing the room in a bright warm light. The hum of the fridge and the distant whirring of a ventilation system were the only other sounds as Steve pulled two ceramic mugs from the cabinet.

Eddie leaned on the counter, watching him.

-There’s something addictive about seeing him like this, cheeks flushed, sweatshirt rumpled, hair a mess. Comfortable. Happy.- He poured the blood with practiced care, turning to warm both mugs in the microwave.

When it beeped, he handed one to Eddie with a quiet smile. They moved in sync to the kitchen table. Sitting side by side. For a minute, they just sipped in silence. It wasn’t awkward. Just.. Quiet. Content. The buzz of adrenaline was still fading, the tension in their bodies slowly dissolving into something softer.

He ran a finger along the rim of his mug, eyes down for a moment. When he finally looked up, his voice was soft. “Are you ready to talk about Wayne yet?”

Eddie’s smile faltered, just for a second. He looked into Steve’s eyes, searching, like he was bracing for something. Then he exhaled, slowly, and nodded once. Eyes glinting with something he couldn’t name. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“I think..” Steve began, licking a stray drop of blood from his finger, his voice quiet but certain. “I think we should go visit him.”

Eddie suddenly sat up straight, brows pulling together in confusion. “What? Steve, that’s..”

“Just… Hear me out.” He interrupted, already reaching to take Eddie’s hand. His thumb brushed over Eddie’s knuckles, grounding him. “We’ve been here for over a month now. We’re safe. We’ve got a good amount of control now. We have a steady blood supply and even if we didn’t.. We’d never hurt him. You know that. He isn’t in danger from either of us.”

Eddie swallowed hard but said nothing, his fingers twitching beneath Steve’s.

“He’s been searching for me nonstop.” He continued. “Doc said the cops gave up, but Wayne.. Didn’t. He thinks you’re dead, probably thinks I am too if we’re being honest.” His voice cracked slightly at the end. He looked down at their hands, tightening his grip.

“He deserved to know the truth. To see me, to see you. Don’t you think?”

Eddie looked at him for a long moment, and for once he didn’t have a joke to deflect with. Just a quiet stillness as something old and aching moved across his face. “I want to.” He finally admitted, voice small. “God I want to but what if.. What if it’s too much? What if.. What if he sees me and he’s.. I don’t know? Scared?”

He shook his head immediately, eyes fierce. “He won’t be. He’s seen me already, fangs and all. You could have.. Bat wings and be dripping in blood and he’d still make you a cup of coffee and yell at you for not folding your laundry.”

A watery laugh escaped Eddie, and he scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t even know what I’d say.”

“You don’t have to know yet.” Steve said softly. “We’ll figure it out. Together. Like we promised.”

Eddie looked up at him, really looked, and something in his eyes shifted- like a knot he’d been carrying had finally started to loosen. “Okay.” He whispered. “Yeah… Let’s. Let’s go see him.”

He gave Eddie’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Okay. We’ll let Doc know. Maybe.. Maybe we can sneak off tomorrow night? We can sneak around Hawkins instead of through it, keep low.”

Eddie nodded, slowly, that familiar glint starting to return in his eyes.

“We sneak in.” Steve continued. “Wait for him to come home. No sudden shocks out in the open. Just you, me, and Wayne. Safe.”

A slow, real smile broke across Eddie’s face. “Yeah.. Yeah okay. Tomorrow then. It’s a date.”

Notes:

I've never written any kind of smut before.. Did I do good?

Chapter 26: It's Almost Time

Notes:

There's more steamy romance in this chapter too... It's pure filth. Hey! Don't look at me like that. My story, my rules. It's purely self-indulgent, filthy, and unrealistic. You knew what you were signing up for when you saw an unrated fic. :)
It starts at "Eddie I want.." And ends at the following horizontal line.. It's a lot Enjoy!

The three of them sat around the kitchen table, the scrape of forks against plates the only sound cutting through the heavy silence that had settled over dinner. The weight of their conversation lingered like a fourth presence.

Finally, the doctor’s voice cut through. “So let me get this straight..” He started, setting his fork down with a quiet clink. “You want to sneak back into Hawkins. Break into Wayne Munson’s home.. And tell him you’re alive. Instead of.. Oh I don’t know, the safer version where I call and invite him here?”

He and Eddie both huffed, perfectly in sync. As if they knew exactly what the doctor was going to say.

“It’s not that simple.” Steve started.

“He wouldn’t come all the way out here.” Eddie added, voice firm. “He doesn’t know you. Doesn’t trust you.”

“And like you said, this place is remote. And we have a plan! Or at least.. A solid idea of how to do it. We’ll be careful. We won’t get caught… Not again.” He finished.

The doctor gave a long, quiet hum, watching them for a moment before folding his hands on the table. “Alright then… Tell me this plan of yours.”

He sat up straighter, pushing his plate aside. “Okay.. We leave tomorrow, before the sun fully sets. That gives us plenty of time to get past these woods and closer to Hawkins. By the time we’re near town, it’ll be fully dark- and with a new moon tonight, it’ll be pitch black in the woods. Good for us, bad for anyone trying to spot us.”

“We’ll stick to the trees.” Eddie jumped in. “We use our hearing, our sense of smell, to watch out for any demogorgons, soldiers, or anything else. We stay off the roads. Stick to the trees, to the shadows. We move fast. We’ll circle Hawkins, keep to the edge until we hit the backside of town.”

“Wayne’s house borders the far side of Hawkins, there’s some woods on the back of his property.” He cut back in.

The doctor nodded slowly. “And how do you plan to get into the house? Can you suddenly pick locks with those claws of yours?” Eddie looked down at his hands, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

He cut back in, rolling his eyes at Eddie. “He always leaves the bedroom window unlocked. The one he set up for Eddie. Even after everything-... He never locked it. Said just in case he comes home.”

The doctor exhales, but let them move on. “Alright.. Assuming you’re right and you make it that far- and the window's still open?”

“We climb up.” He quickly continued. “There’s a section of the porch directly below the window, we use that to boost ourselves up to the second story. Slip in quietly. And we wait. Wayne’s off work by morning. Usually five, seven at the latest.”

The doctor slowly pushed up from the table, moving to the stove as he quietly made himself a cup of tea. Neither he nor Eddie made a sound while he did.

The kettle whistled softly, the steam curling upward as he poured. Slowly, the doctor came back to the table and sat down. Taking small sips from his mug before continuing. “And you really think you can pull this off?” His gaze was sharp now, with a hint of worry. “That both of you can?”

Eddie glanced at Steve, who met his eyes with a steady nod. “Yeah.” Steve said, quieter this time. “We can.”

The doctor sighed through his nose. “Alright… I won’t stop you. But! If anything goes wrong- if you see one of those monsters, or anyone in uniform, even if they don’t recognize you- you run. You come back here. No detours. No fighting. Just run, we’ll figure out another way. Understand?”

“Yes sir.” He replied, and Eddie nodded.

“Yeah. Got it.”

“Good.” The doctor leaned back in his chair, the mug held tightly. “I’ll check Wayne’s schedule first thing tomorrow. And I’ll see if I can pull anything on patrol routes around Hawkins.”

He took another sip before adding, more to himself than to either of them. “It’s a good plan… In theory. Just make sure you actually stick to it.” His expression shifted, just slightly. Dry humor bleeding in. “I don’t think I’ve got another emergency escape left in me.”

Eddie snorted, but he just smiled, warm and genuine for the first time that evening.

---

The room was lit in a soft white glow, the artificial lights having been dimmed for the night. Though it didn’t matter to them, they could see just as clear as day.

Eddie lay stretched out on his bed, shirtless, a faint sheen of leftover heat still clinging to his skin from his shower. His sweatpants hung low on his hips. The waistband slung just crooked enough to reveal the sharp lines of his hipbones. One leg was bent at the knee, the other stretched out beside Steve, bracketing him loosely.

Steve rested against him, chest pressed to Eddie’s waist, one arm curled over Eddie’s stomach. His other hand moved slowly, fingers skimming lazily across Eddie’s chest, tracing the same pattern he always did. The hellfire logo, but this time he traced the words as well.

“You know.” He murmured, voice low. “This is hotter than it has any right to be.”

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh, not bothering to open his eyes. “Is it the cult vibes? Gets you going?”

He responded by dipping down and brushing his lips against the tattoo on Eddie’s chest, trailing down to above his heart. “It’s the metal nerd who somehow made it out mostly alive. He whispered, kissing the tattoo again, slowly this time.

Eddie’s breath caught, fingers twitching where one hand rested on Steve’s back.

He continued tracing the pattern again, this time following his finger with soft, unhurried kisses. He let his mouth linger, the press of his lips barely there. As he moved, the kiss turned playful- his teeth grazing Eddie’s skin just enough to make him twitch.

“Hey, watch it. Dracula.”

With a playful smirk, he leaned back in, letting his teeth graze over Eddie’s tattoo. “You started it.” He mumbled, his lips running over skin as he spoke.

Eddie opened his eyes at last, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Steve’s head. “Yeah, well.. I’m not complaining.” His fingers threaded through Steve’s hair. Not pulling- just grounding, tracing lazy circles against his scalp like he didn’t want him to stop. Playfully he let his tongue drag over the bite mark, a hiss escaping from the man below him.

“Careful.” Eddie murmured, voice low. “You keep going and I might start thinking you’re into me.”

“Who says I’m not?” He smiled into his next kiss, slow and warm, before letting his head rest against Eddie’s chest.

They stayed like that for a while. Listening to the buzz of the lights, the distant hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the occasional snore from the old man in the bedroom far above them.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “You sure you’re ready for tomorrow?”

Eddie’s fingers slid through his hair, calming. “Yeah Stevie.. Terrified but I’m ready.”

He hummed in response, letting the words settle between them. Slowly his hand drifted down Eddie’s ribs, over the dip of his waist, then followed the long line of his thigh. His fingers paused there, thumb brushing idly along the soft cotton of Eddie’s sweatpants.

“Really?” He murmured, voice low and teasing. “You feel pretty tense.”

Eddie snorted, head tipping back against the pillow. “Jesus Christ Harrington. You sound like a bad porno.”

He grinned, unbothered. “C’mon, I’d at least be a decent one. B-grade, minimum.”

Eddie gave him a lazy shove with his knee. “You wish. More like one of those ones they sell in gas stations with the terrible titles.”

“Oh yeah?” He laughed, shifting just enough to nip playfully at Eddie’s collarbone. “What would mine be called then?”

Eddie looked down at him, raising a single exaggerated brow. “Vampires and Varsity Jackets: Volume One.”

He groaned, letting his face press into Eddie’s chest. “That’s horrible!.. Wait.. Volume one? So I get multiple?... And you’ve definitely thought about this before.” He shook his head, smiling.

“I’m a storyteller baby. It’s what I do.. And maybe you do. Maybe you don’t. That’s up to you.”

“Yeah, well… You know what I do?”

A questioning hum was his answer.

A grin lit up his face as he pushed himself up, chest still flush to Eddie’s hips. Giving a light squeeze to Eddie’s thighs. “I might have the cheesy lines. But I’m the reason it went into theaters.”

“Oh? We putting you in theaters now?” Eddie smirked, hand tightening in Steve’s hair. He gave a gentle tug that tore a gasp from Steve. “Thought it was just for me.. Who all gets to see this film?”

His eyes fluttered at the pressure, breath catching. “Mm.. Just for you Eds. Just you.”

“Good.” Eddie gently tugged him up, closing the space between them with a kiss that started soft, familiar, lingering. But deepened fast. Steve melted into it, quiet sounds escaping the both of them as their mouths moved together, slow, hungry.

Hands wandered without urgency, but with clear intent. His palms slid up Eddie’s thighs, over his sides, mapping out the scars that mirrored his own. Eddie’s fingers adjusted their grip, tightening his hold, angling his head just so. Deepening the kiss until it bordered on desperate.

He pressed closer, Eddie arching up to meet him. Their legs tangled, hips shifting, tension building between them. Eddie’s other hand found Steve’s back, fingertips dipping beneath the hem of his shirt. He groaned into the kiss, hips rolling once- testing. And the low noise Eddie let out in return only spurred him on.

They kissed like they were trying to memorize it. Like it was a language only they could speak, full of half-sighs and shared breath, and the occasional brush of fang.

But slowly, he pulled back. A thin thread of spit connecting them before it broke. Eddie licked over his lips, slowly. Like he was chasing the taste of them, eyes heavy and fixed on Steve.

“Eddie. I want…” He swallowed hard, his voice already hoarse. “I.. Can I… Please?” It came out in a whine- high, breathless, almost desperate.

“Yeah.” Came the rough reply, more breath than word. “Yeah Stevie, whatever you want.” Eddie reached up, fingers gentle as they cradled his jaw. His thumb dragged over Steve’s bottom lip, slow, reverent, before pulling back.

He watched him- pupils blow wide, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon. Everything felt hazy, floaty, like he was half out of his body and still tethered only by the weight of Eddie’s touch.

Then Eddie, slowly, deliberately, brought that same thumb to his own mouth. Pressing it against his lips before slipping it between them.

He let out a shaky breath, something between a groan and a whimper clawing its way out of his throat. His hands slid over Eddie’s hips, grounding himself, clinging.

Slowly he shifted lower, propping himself on his elbows as he trailed kisses down Eddie’s body. He started at the sharp edge of his collarbone. Each kiss was hungry, wet, tasting the salt of skin as he moved down his chest. He let his teeth graze just under Eddie’s bellybutton before kissing down, pausing just above the waistband of his sweatpants.

Settling between Eddie’s legs, he stared at the now obvious bulge straining against the fabric, the outline clear, tempting. His mouth watered, raw need twisting in his gut as his hands rested on large thighs, thumbs brushing close, but not quite touching.

Lifting his gaze, he met the heavy, dark stare above. Slowly he licked over his lips, tongue lingering with blatant hunger in his eyes. He let his breathing slowly stop, a silent plea in the way his chest stopped moving.

Eddie reached down, fingers threading once again into his hair. Giving a gentle tug that made his eyes flutter. “It’s okay sweetheart.” He murmured, voice low and rough. “Whatever you want. I’m right here. Just take what you need.”

A high, needy whine spilled from his lips. Sharp and desperate as his hands tightened around Eddie’s thighs. He leaned down, pressing his mouth to the bulge through the fabric. Hot breath seeping into the sweatpants as he mouthed at it eagerly. His tongue flicked out, wetting the material, the taste of cotton and a faint musk beneath as he nuzzled closer, craving more.

“Fuck baby.” Eddie rasped, fingers tightening in his hair. Not pushing, but holding, grounding them both. “You look so damn good down there. Bet you feel good don’t you? Yeah? Keep goin’ sweetheart.”

Another soft whine escaped, muffled against the fabric as he sucked lightly through the sweatpants, teeth grazing just enough to tease. Enough to rip a sharp breath from above. His fingertips brushed the waistband, itching to pull it down but holding back. Savoring the tension even as heat clawed at him.

He kept his mouth pressed against Eddie, lips dragging over the straining fabric. Until he focused on the tip, sucking lightly through the material. The heat and subtle dampness seeped through, and then a sharp salty burst of pre hit his tongue. Making his eyes flutter closed. A low, desperate sound clawed up his chest as he pulled back, just enough to tug at the waistband. Fingers frantic and clumsy with need.

“Hold on baby, just a second.” Came the rough mutter from above as Eddie’s hips lifted off the bed in a quick jerky motion to help. His hands gripping the sheets, knuckles tight, as the sweatpants slid down over his thighs, catching briefly before being yanked free.

As soon as the offending fabric was ripped away, tossed somewhere off the bed, Steve dove back in. Tongue flicking out to lick over the newly exposed cock, dragging along the underside with a wet, eager swipe.

A loud, unrestrained moan spilled from his lips. Vibrating against the hot skin as he lapped at the shaft, tasting the salt and musk, losing himself in it. One hand gripped the base, holding steady while his tongue worked in slippery, hungry strokes. His other gripped over Eddie’s thigh.

“Shit, look at you. So fuckin’ needy for it.” Came the low growl from above, voice thick with heat. “Lickin’ me up like you’re starving. So fuckin’ hot Stevie.”

The praise made him moan louder, shameless, raw. Hips twitching against the bed as he licked up the length, tongue stopping to swirl over the tip, catching another bead of pre that leaked out. But he didn’t move to take it into his mouth yet, just kept dragging his tongue along every inch, savoring the taste and the low approving sounds from above.

He let out a high, pitiful whine as Eddie’s fingers slid back into his hair. The touch firm, but affectionate, sending shivers down his spine. “Look at you baby, so damn perfect down there. Such a good boy.”

Spurred on by the words, he leaned in closer. Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the hard shaft, lips slick and messy as he worked his way up and down. Each kiss was desperate, hungry, leaving a trail of spit shining on the skin as his tongue flicked out between them, unable to get enough of the taste. His hands gripped tighter at the base, fingers hardly closing as raw, aching desperation clawed at him. His whines growing louder, needier, almost frantic.

“Need it.” He whimpered, voice breaking as he rubbed his cheek against the cock. The corner of his mouth brushing against the tip.

“Yeah baby, whatever you want. Take what you need sweetheart, it’s okay.” His eyes fluttered open, unsure of when he closed them, half-lidded to look up at Eddie.

Slowly his lips parted as he let the head rest just barely inside. The heat, the weight on his tongue, the stretch- it hit him all at once, and a loud, unrestrained moan tore from his throat. It was all too much, his eyes rolled back in pure bliss. His head tipped slightly forward, body shuddering as he savored the feeling, tongue swirling around the tip, sucking lightly. Lost in the sensations.

“Shit Stevie, did you just cum?” Eddie growled out, fingers tightening in his hair, encouraging without pushing. “That’s it baby, moan for me. Let me hear how much you love it. Fuckin’ beautiful you are.”

He couldn’t stop the sounds spilling out, muffled around the head in his mouth. Each one louder and more desperate than the last as he bobbed shallowly, not taking more yet, just reveling in the taste and the heat. Letting it drive him further into a haze of want.

Eddie gave a small, experimental tug, testing the waters. The pull sent a jolt straight through him, eyes fluttering, a broken moan slipping past his lips. His hips twitched, rolling against the mattress in a slow, needy grunt, chasing any friction he could get as heat pooled in his gut all over again.

“Fuck baby, the way you look right now..” Eddie rasped, voice low, dripping with heat. “You’re being such a good boy, takin’ me so well huh? You’re just a perfect little cocksucker Stevie. Made for this. Made for me.”

The words hit like a punch, making him whimper. The sounds vibrating against Eddie’s cock as he swallowed around it, desperate to please. His tongue swirled around the tip again, lapping up another bead of pre that was leaking out. The sharp, salty taste drew another uncontrollable moan from deep in his chest. His hands tightened around the base and Eddie’s thigh, fingers digging almost uncomfortably into skin as he trembled with need.

Eddie’s hips shifted, a gentle, barely-there thrust, nudging just a little deeper into the wet heat of Steve’s mouth. “That’s it sweetheart.” He groaned, voice tight with restraint. “Take a little more for me. You’ve got this, look so fuckin’ pretty with your lips stretched around me.”

His response was a choked, eager sound as he relaxed his jaw, letting Eddie slide in further. The stretch, the heat, the weight on his tongue- it overwhelmed him, his eyes rolling back again as he moaned. His hips jerked against the bed, rutting harder, desperate for relief as every spurt of pre that hit his tongue made him whine.

“Shit baby listen to you. Half of Hawkin’s can probably hear how needy you are.” Eddie growled, giving a small tug on Steve’s hair, guiding without any real force behind it. “Moaning like that every time you get a taste. You love this, don’t you? Can’t get enough of me. Pretty sure I’ve had your lips around me more times in the last week than anyone in my whole life. Fuckin’- Don’t stop baby you’re doing so good.”

Eddie rocked his hips again, a little more confident this time. Shallow thrusts that pushed just a bit deeper each time. He took it eagerly, bobbing his head to match the rhythm, lips slick and messy as spit drooled down his lips, his chin. Every slide of Eddie’s cock against his tongue, every pulse of pre, had him shuddering, moaning uncontrollably. The sounds spilling out as he lost himself completely in the haze of it all.

Eddie groaned, the sound rough and guttural as he tightened his grip in Steve’s hair. Pulling him off with a firm yank until just the tip rested on Steve’s outstretched tongue. He let out a high, desperate whine, his lips trembling as he tried to lean back down, eager to take more. But Eddie held him in place, ignoring his pleading sounds.

“Stop.” Eddie’s tone cut through the haze of need, sharp and unyielding, commanding. Steve let out another weak, pitiful whine, but he let his eyes slowly open. Looking up at Eddie’s intense gaze. Those dark eyes bore into him, pinning him just as much as the grip in his hair did.

“You want me to fuck your throat? Hmm? Use you until all that’ll come out tomorrow is broken whispers?” Eddie asked, voice low, loaded, staring straight into his glassy, lust-drunk eyes.

The question alone ripped another loud, needy moan from his throat. Raw, unrestrained. He gave a barely-there nod against the tight hold.

Eddie didn’t wait a second longer. With a near feral grunt, he slammed Steve’s head down. Burying himself deep in one brutal thrust. Both hands moved to grip Steve’s head, fingers digging into his scalp as he held him firm. Suddenly, his hips snapped up, driving into Steve’s mouth over and over, using him with ruthless abandon. Wet, sloppy sounds filled the room as he fucked into him like he was nothing more than a toy to be used.

“Fuck, that’s it.” Eddie groaned, his voice thick with heat. “Take it all baby, just like that! So fuckin’ good for me!”

His moans vibrated around him, muffled and broken, each thrust drawing out another desperate sound. His hands clung to Eddie’s thighs, fingers digging in as he surrendered completely, letting himself be used, his body shaking with raw aching need.

“Goddamn, look at you.” He rasped, thumbs brushing over Steve’s stretched lips as he held him down. “Made for this. Just a perfect little hole for me to fuck. But you love it, don’t you? Can’t get enough.”

His only response was another choked, eager moan, his eyes rolling back again as Eddie picked back up. Each brutal thrust sending shivers of pleasure through him, lost in the overwhelming heat of being used so thoroughly.

“Oh fuck!” Eddie shouted, his back arching off the bed. Forcing Steve up with his hips. “The.. The fucking bond is.. S-Shit! I.. It’s barely but I can.. Fuck baby you feel perfect!” He fell back against the mattress, pulling Steve back down quickly. Groans leaving both of them.

Eddie’s hand tightened in his hair, holding him down with a fierce grip as his cock twitched deep in his throat. “Fuck, you’re just so goddamn perfect.” He growled, voice rough, heavy. “Takin’ me all the way like this. Such a good boy for me. Look at you, just made to be stuffed full of cock. My cock.”

His tongue hung slack out of his mouth, droll spilling freely, running in thick rivulets down Eddie’s balls, coating them in a slick messy sheen. The feeling of it all- hot, wet, the weight on his tongue, sent a shudder through his body. His hips jerked hard against the mattress. A muffled moan vibrating around Eddie as he came again hard, untouched, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

The scent of Steve’s release hit Eddie like a tidal wave, raw and heady, making his head spin. A loud guttural groan ripped from his chest as he yanked Steve all the way off, just for a split second. Before slamming him back down. “Fuck! Take it!” He snarled, hips bucking as he came, unloading a massive, seemingly endless stream of cum. It was too much, a flood of it spilling out in heavy spurts that overwhelmed him.

Thick, hot cum shot out from the corners of his stretched lips, leaking out in messy streams, trickling from his nose as he struggled to keep up. His throat working weakly to swallow what he could. The excess ran down his chin, his lips, mixing with the drool. Painting his face in a slick, obscene mess as he let out a choked, desperate whine, eyes fluttering from the sheer volume of it.

“Shit, look at that.” Eddie rasped, voice thick with awe as he held Steve in place, still twitching, still cumming. “Can’t even keep it all in, huh? So fuckin’ messy for me. That’s it baby, swallow what you can. Just let the rest coat that pretty face of yours. You’re such a good little slut, takin’ every drop I give you.” He reached down, no longer holding Steve down. Letting his thumbs brush over Steve’s wet cheeks. A possessive edge to the touch as he watched him struggle, reveling in the filthy sight.

“I think you might look even prettier in a second though.” His grip tightened for a split second, before suddenly shoving Steve back, pulling him off with a loud, wet, pop. The last several spurts of cum shot out, painting Steve’s face in thick, hot streaks, splattering across his cheeks, nose, forehead.

He let out a pitiful whine at the loss, his mouth still open, tongue outstretched, desperate to catch whatever he could. The massive load he hadn't yet swallowed spilled out, pouring down his chin in a messy cascade before he could catch it.

“Oh baby, look at that mess.” Eddie groaned, his eyes dark as he took in the sight. “Couldn’t even keep it all in, huh? But you still want more don’t you? Greedy little thing.”

His tongue moved slowly, lapping at the mess he could reach around his lips. He slowly looked up at Eddie, smiling. His face was a wreck, glistening with cum, eyes half-lidded and dazed as he sat there, unable to do anything but let it drip off him.

“Damn you’re a sight.” Eddie rasped, one hand reaching out to swipe a thumb through the mess on Steve’s cheek, smearing it further. “All fucked out and covered in me. You love this, don’t you? Can’t get enough of being marked like this.”

His only response was another soft, broken whine, his mouth still hanging open, waiting, begging for more as the sticky mess continued to trail down his face.

Eddie flashed a feral grin, his eyes glinting with raw hunger as he reached back down, dragging two fingers across Steve’s cum-smeared face. He scooped up the thick mess, gathering it deliberately before pushing his fingers into Steve’s waiting mouth. “C’mon baby, clean it up.” He growled, voice rough with heat.

He didn’t hesitate, letting his tongue lap at the digits, hungrily licking them clean with wet, eager swipes. His lips closed around Eddie’s fingers, pulling them deeper as he moaned softly. The earlier spill, a sticky pool of cum and drool, had dripped down the mattress beneath his chest. And he ground down against it, hard again, his hips rocking with desperate little jerks as his own previous pool smeared against his skin.

“Fuck, that’s it.” Eddie rasped, pulling his fingers free only to scoop up more from Steve’s chin, smearing it across his lips before pushing them back into his mouth. “Lick it all up you filthy little thing. Can’t waste a drop huh?”

His tongue curled around Eddie’s fingers, sucking them clean each time with low needy whines. His eyes fluttering half-shut, lost in the taste and the grind of his cock against the soaked mattress. The friction driving him wild as he chased that edge again.

“Look at you, already hard again. What’s this? Number three?” Eddie taunted, his free hand gripping Steve’s filthy jaw to tilt his face up, forcing their eyes to meet. “Such a desperate little slut for me aren’t you? You gonna cum again just from this? From eating my mess and ruttin’ into a puddle of your own filth?”

He let out a muffled moan around Eddie’s fingers, nodding faintly as he kept licking, kept grinding, his body shaking with an aching want. Eddie just smirked wider, scooping up another streak from Steve’s cheek, feeding it to him. “Good boy. Keep going. Show me how bad you need it.”

Eddie dragged his fingers across the last of the mess on Steve’s face, gathering the sticky remnants before pushing them back into his waiting mouth. “There you go, lick it all off.” His eyes didn’t move as he watched Steve’s lips close around his digits, sucking them clean with desperate, hungry pulls. “You fuckin’ love this, don’t you? Eatin’ up every damn bit I give you.” He spread his fingers out, pushing into Steve’s cheeks.

His tongue swirled around the fingers, chasing every drop with a low broken moan. His hips didn’t stop, grinding down into the slick puddle on the mattress, the wet friction against his cock making him shudder as he rutted harder, chasing that building heat. “How many times do you think you can cum sweetheart?” Eddie asked, not expecting an answer as he pressed his fingers down on Steve’s tongue. He groaned as the mess beneath him smeared again his skin, filthy, still warm, driving him closer to the edge with every roll of his hips.

“I wish I had a mirror so you could see yourself. You just.. Look at you baby.” He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop, only to grip Steve’s jaw again, forcing his head back up to meet his gaze. “Humpin’ that soaked bed like a bitch in heat. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you? Just from makin’ a mess of yourself and suckin’ my fingers clean.”

Steve let out a high whine, nodding weakly as his hips stuttered, grinding down with frantic little jerks. His cock throbbed against the sticky mess in his ruined sweats, the sensation of the slick mess and Eddie’s rough words pushing him right to the brink.

“That’s it baby, go on.” Eddie urged, voice low and commanding as his thumb swiped across Steve’s bottom lip, smearing a stray drop before pushing it back into his mouth. “Cum for me sweetheart. Show me how much you love the taste of me. How desperate you are for it.”

His body tensed, a sharp moan spilling from his lips around Eddie's thumb as his hips bucked hard one last time. He came with a shudder, spilling into his already drenched sweatpants. The fresh heat mixing with the earlier mess as his body trembled through it, completely lost in the overwhelming wave of pleasure.

“Fuck yeah, just like that.” He growled, his grip on Steve’s jaw tightening as he watched him fall apart. “Look at you. Making such a goddamn mess. So fuckin’ hot baby. Can’t get enough of seeing you like this- wrecked and drippin’ for me.”

He whines again, softer, his body still twitching with aftershocks as he slumped forward slightly, against Eddie’s sticky thigh. Exhausted but still gazing up at Eddie with raw, hazy adoration, waiting for whatever came next. Eddie chuckled darkly, brushing a thumb over his slick, swollen lips. “We’re not done yet are we sweetheart? Not unless you say so. You’re gonna keep taking it until I’m done.”

He traced over Steve’s lips. “Can’t get enough of you baby.” He muttered, voice rough with hunger. “All fucked out and still begging for more with those pretty eyes of yours. You’re a wreck. Absolutely perfect and I love it.”

His hazy gaze stayed locked on Eddie, a soft, needy sound slipping out as his body twitched, still riding the aftershocks. His lips parted slightly, instinctively, waiting, wanting, despite the weight he felt dragging him down. The mess on the mattress beneath him was obscene, sticky and warm, and his hips gave a weak involuntary roll into it, still aching for friction despite just coming.

“Shit, you’re insatiable. Was it always that way? Or have all the new sensations gotten to you?” Eddie growled, gripping Steve’s chin to tilt his face up, forcing him to meet his eyes again. “Not just me who can’t get enough of you now is it? Don’t worry baby, we’re in the same boat here. Gonna use that sweet mouth until you’re cryin’ for me to stop. Maybe, if you’re good. I’ll give you a treat.”

He let out a pitiful, eager whine, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, tasting the lingering salt and mess. His hands twitched at his sides, itching to reach out, to pull Eddie closer, but he held back. Waiting, completely at his mercy.

“Get up here.” Eddie growled, patting his thigh as he shifted back onto his bed, away from the puddle. “C’mon, crawl to me. Show me how bad you want it.”

He didn’t hesitate, scrambling up on shaky limbs, his body still trembling as he moved on all fours. The massive wet spots on the mattress left behind. “Oh fuck sweetheart, those pants are ruined. Not a spot left untouched; they’re just drenched.” Eddie groaned out.

His eyes never left Eddie’s, burning with desire as he settled between his legs again, lips parted and waiting, practically drooling for it.

“Fuck, that’s a good boy.” Eddie rasped, one hand sliding back into Steve’s hair, tugging just hard enough to draw out a moan. “Look at you, crawlin’ to me like a damn puppy. You’d do anything for another taste, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded faintly, a high, broken sound spilling from his throat as he leaned forward, nuzzling against Eddie's thigh, his cheek brushing against the hardening length. “Please.” He whimpered, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “Need.. Need it… Need you.”

Eddie’s grip tightened, yanking Steve’s head back just enough to make him gasp. “Yeah. I know you do.” He growled, his other hand coming down to stroke himself lazily as he stared down at Steve’s flushed, messy face. “Gonna give it to you, don’t you worry your pretty little head off. Open that mouth nice and wide for me. That’s a good boy, stick out your tongue.”

He obeyed instantly, mouth falling open, tongue stretching out as far as it could. Drool pooled at the corners of his lips, dripping down his chin again, adding to the filth already covering him and Eddie.

“Goddamn, that’s hot.” Eddie muttered, guiding himself closer, letting the tip brush against Steve’s tongue, smearing a fresh bead of pre across it. “Lick it. Slowly. Show me your still so fuckin’ desperate.”

His tongue dragged over the tip letting the taste of sharp salt and leftover cum coat it. A moan vibrated his chest. He gripped Eddie’s thighs for balance, fingers digging in as he lapped at the hard length, eyes rolling back from the flavor and the way Eddie spoke to him.

“Fuck yeah, just like that.” Eddie groaned, his hips twitching forward, nudging a little deeper onto Steve’s tongue. “Keep going baby. Gonna stuff that mouth full again. Make you choke on it ‘till you’re a bigger mess than you already are. You want that, don’t you?”

His only answer was a louder whine, his mouth opening wider, begging without words as he pressed closer. Ready to take whatever Eddie gave him, no matter how rough, no matter how much. He wanted it all.

“Aw baby, just a second, hold on.” His voice was rough but laced with a new softness as he gripped Steve’s shoulders, pushing him back gently. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. So fuckin’ good, coming untouched, so eager for my cock. I think I should just give you that reward now, don’t you?”

Before he could react, Eddie moved quickly. His claws tearing down the side of Steve’s ruined sweatpants. Before he could even gasp Eddie yanked them off with a growl, before flipping them around in a swift motion.

He found himself in Eddie’s lap, but facing away. With a noise of confusion he allowed Eddie to maneuver him around, guiding him until he was hovering just right. A quick pat to his ass made him jerk forward, and Eddie pushed him into position. Aligning himself so his mouth was level with Eddie’s cock, while his ass was perfectly in Eddie’s face.

“I need you to tell me if you don’t like something, alright sweetheart?” Eddie murmured, his tone serious for a moment, hands resting on Steve’s hips. “I’ll stop right away. Even if you’re uncomfortable but want to come back to it, just let me know.”

He let out a soft, agreeable hum, his body trembling with anticipation as he shifted slightly. Letting his mouth drop down onto Eddie’s cock. His lips stretching around it, drool spilling freely as he weakly sucked, too overwhelmed to do much more than lave his tongue lazily over the tip. Letting the slick mess drop down the shaft.

Eddie’s hands slid to Steve’s ass, spreading his cheeks apart with a careful, almost reverent touch. He started slow, tentative licks tracing over the sensitive skin. The sensation drew confused, surprised noises from Steve, muffled around the cock in his mouth- little gasps and whines as Eddie moved to tease at the tight ring of muscle.

“Relax baby.” Eddie muttered against his skin, pulling back just enough to speak before hooking one finger, gently, pulling his hole slightly out to the side. Opening him up just a little without it being uncomfortable. “You’ll like it, I promise.” He said quickly before he dove in. His tongue pressing in with enthusiastic, hungry strokes, eating Steve out like he was starving for it.

His reaction was instant, hips rolling back as something mixed between a scream and a moan tore from his throat. Drool poured from his mouth now, slicking down the length as he shuddered, overwhelmed by the wet heat of Eddie’s tongue working him open, pushing deeper with every eager lick. His weak sucking turned desperate, but sloppy. Loud and wet, unable to focus as pleasure shot through him.

“Fuck, just when I though you couldn’t get any hotter.” Eddie groaned, pulling his mouth back for a second, his breath hot against the spit chilled skin. “Tremblin’ like a leaf, moaning around my cock. You’re gonna be the death of me baby.”

Eddie dove back in, tongue swirling and probing, lapping at Steve with relentless hunger. His hips backed again, grinding back against Eddie’s face as another loud, broken moan spilled out, muffled by the thick length in his mouth. He was a mess drool dripping everywhere, coating Eddie’s cock as his body shook, caught between the overwhelming sensations.

“Shit, look at you.” Eddie rasped, pulling back again, his voice thick with lust. “Rollin’ those hips like you were born for it. So fuckin’ hot. And this ass! Can’t get enough of it!” His tongue was back on Steve before he finished his sentence, delving in deeper, drawing more desperate shuddering moans as Steve’s body arched. He stopped sucking on the cock in front of him, letting the feeling of Eddie’s tongue get him closer until-.

Eddie’s arms, still firm on his ass. Spreading him open as he carefully, slowly, pushed in a spit-slick finger alongside his tongue, the pressure drawing a muffled, desperate whimper from Steve.

His arms finally gave out, collapsing forward with a quiet whine, unable to hold himself up any longer. His face smacked down, taking Eddie’s cock deep into his throat again. Filling him completely as drool spilled from his lips, slick and messy.

“That’s it baby. Just relax for me.” Eddie spoke softly as he slowly worked his finger in deeper, stretching him out while his tongue got back to work, shoving into the tight heat. He pulled back for just a second. “Feel so damn good for me Stevie. Just let go sweetheart. Be good for me.”

His hips jerked weakly, his body too overwhelmed as he moaned around Eddie’s cock, the vibrations causing Eddie’s hips to twitch up. His hand scrabbled weakly at the sheets, trying to ground himself, but it was too much. Eddie kept at it, fingering him with a steady rhythm, curling just enough, testing the waters. While his tongue pushed in alongside, wet and eager.

After a few minutes, Eddie slowly added in a second spit-slicked finger, sliding it in with care, stretching Steve further. His fingers spreading gently as he went. Suddenly- they brushed against something. Steve’s reaction was immediate. A sharp, loud gasp tore from him, his throat clenching tight around Eddie as his whole body jolted.

“Oh fuck!.. There it is.” Eddie rasped, a wicked grin in his voice. “Gotcha now sweetheart. Gonna make you lose it baby. You’re gonna be just as addicted to this as you are my cock.” Without warning, he started thrusting his fingers repeatedly into that spot. Finger curling and thrusting relentlessly, hitting it over and over with precision while his tongue worked its way back inside, licking and pushing between his fingers into the tight ring of muscle.

His muffled screams vibrated around Eddie’s cock, his throat spasming as his hips bucked wildly, caught between rocking back into the fingers, and staying down on the length filling his throat.

“Shit, feel that? Clenchin’ so damn tight.” Eddie groaned, pulling his mouth back just to speak, before shoving his tongue deeper alongside his pounding fingers. “Love your pretty noises Stevie. Go ahead and scream for me baby, let it all out.”

His moans turned into near-sobs of pleasure, raw and unrestrained, as Eddie kept up the brutal pace. Fingers slamming into his prostate while his body trembled violently, every nerve on fire, completely overwhelmed, but he couldn’t be happier.

Eddie’s fingers didn’t slow as he added in a third spit-coated finger, pushing it in carefully but firm. He groaned deeply, weakly attempting to suck at the cock in his mouth. The stretch burning for a moment, a sharp edge of discomfort that quickly melted back into pleasure. Instead of pulling away, he pushed back into it, hips rolling as he chased the stretched, the pleasure, the feeling of being full.

Eddie pulled his mouth back, just long enough to rasp. “You good sweetheart? Not too much?”

He didn’t answer, just shoved his ass back harder against the fingers, a muffled whine vibrating out his throat, making his need clear. Eddie let out a deep, hungry chuckle, the sound rumbling through him as he learned forward.

His teeth grazed over the curve of Steve’s ass. Biting down gently, not hard enough to break skin but enough to leave a mark. Before slowly dragging his tongue over the imprint, soothing the sting. “Always wanted to bite this pretty ass.” He growled out. “Ever since I saw it in that slutty little sailor costume. Been dreamin’ about marking you up Stevie.”

Steve’s muffled moan came out as more of a needy whine, his body shivering as Eddie’s tongue flicked over the bite mark one last time before he shifted focus. Gripping Steve’s hip with his free hand, he started thrusting upward, hard. Making Steve’s head bounce with each brutal snap of his hips.

Eddie’s cock drove deeper into his throat, slick with drool, while his three fingers kept up their merciless assault, hamming into that sweet spot inside him without pause. “Fuck!” Eddie snarled out, his thrusts growing rougher, forcing him to take every inch as his fingers curled and slammed in relentlessly, keeping pace with his hips. “Look at you, getting fucked from both ends. So goddamn pretty. Like you were made for this.”

His body tensed suddenly, a choked muffled scream of pleasure erupting around Eddie’s cock. His throat clenching as waves of ecstasy cracked through him. His hips bucked wildly, and he came. Hard.

Despite it being his fourth, it was still a large load. Spilling out, splattering across Eddie’s chest and stomach in hot, slick streaks. The force of it was too much too sudden- his vision blurred, and then went dark. Blacking out for a moment from the overwhelming pleasure.

When his eyes finally fluttered back open, he was on his back, sprawled in the sticky puddle of cum from earlier, the mess soaking into his skin. Eddie was kneeling over him, one hand stroking himself fast and rough. A feral grin on his face as he groaned out, releasing another massive load. Thick ropes of cum slapped onto his face, dripping over his cheeks, nose, lips, a filthy flood that seemed endless, splattering down in heavy spurts.

He let out a weak, desperate whine, his mouth falling open, tongue sticking out weakly as he tried to catch what he could. Drool and cum mixed on his chin, dripping down as he laid there, too wrecked to do much more than beg with hazy half-lidded eyes.

“Fuck, there’s my good boy.” Eddie rasped, voice raw as he jerked forward, letting the head of his cock slap onto Steve’s tongue. “Still so damn hungry for it even after all that. Take every drop baby, you’ve earned it.” He watched as thick ropes shot onto Steve’s tongue, over his lips, over his nose.

His grin suddenly widened as he leaned forward, gently cupping the back of Steve’s head. “In fact..” He thrust down Steve’s throat with a deep groan. “I’ll make sure you get every last drop. Don’t you worry baby… I’ve got another one coming up real quick just for you. Gotta try and match your four to my two after all.” He groaned out as he pushed down Steve’s throat.

Eddie’s grip on the back of his head tightened just enough to hold him steady, his hips snapping forward with short, urgent thrusts. The wet, sloppy sounds as he tried to weakly suck while Eddie thrust quickly, mixed with the ragged breaths and low, guttural groans above him. “Fuck baby, that’s it! This one’s gonna come quick. Barely even finished the last one but you’re just so fuckin’ perfect I- Fuck!” He groaned as his eyes locked on Steve’s flushed, cum-covered face.

His arms shaky, weak, reached up to wrap around Eddie’s thighs. His arms dug into the firm muscle, holding on like it was the only thing keeping him on earth. A soft, broken moan vibrated around Eddie’s cock as he forced his mouth open wider, lips stretching to accommodate every brutal thrust. His tongue pressed flat, slick and eager, letting Eddie use him however he wanted.

“Goddamn, you’re unreal.” Eddie panted, his pace quickening, chasing that edge with a desperate intensity. His free hand slid down to grip Steve’s jaw, holding it open as he fucked deeper, the head of his cock hitting the back of Steve’s throat with every push. “This mouth- Fuck! It’s mine! You’re mine! Gonna keep you forever sweetheart. Never lettin’ you go. You were made for this, made for me.”

His eyes fluttered, hazy and half-lidded, but there was a flicker of raw, contented bliss in them. His moans grew weaker, but he clung to Eddie’s thighs tighter, pulling him in like he couldn’t get enough. Drool and cum dripped down his chin, the sides of his face, he was a wreck as Eddie’s thrusts grew erratic, sloppy with need.

“Shit, I’m close again.” Eddie rasped, his voice rough, strained. “Gonna fill you up baby. You’re so fuckin’ good, taking everything I give you. My perfect little cock slut. That’s it, open wider- yeah just like that. Fuck you’re gonna kill me baby.” His hips stuttered, a deep groan tearing from his throat as he slammed in one last time, holding himself deep. His cock pulsed, unloading another somehow still massive, hot, thick load straight down Steve’s throat.

“Fuck! Yes!” He growled, his voice dripping with pleasure as spurt after endless spurt poured out, flooding the tight heat of the throat around him. “Feel that baby? All of it just for you. My good boy, takin’ it all. So fuckin’ perfect. I’m never letting you go, you hear me? You’re mine baby. Forever.” His grip tightened, holding Steve’s head in place as he kept cumming, the volume still overwhelming, seemingly never stopping as he gave several weak thrusts. “Goddamn it feels so good Stevie. So fuckin’ good.”

His eyes rolled back, a choked desperate moan vibrating around the cock as his own body convulsed. His hips jerking uncontrollably as another orgasm ripped through him, painting the back of Eddie’s thighs and his own lap with thick, messy streaks of cum. The intensity of it shook him, his grip of Eddie weakening as he trembled beneath him. He was a mess.

“Shit Stevie! You really do love this!” He growled out. Still, the load in his throat didn’t stop. It was all too much, way too much. His cheeks puffed slightly, as he couldn’t swallow to keep up with the volume. His mouth, unable to contain it all. The excess spilled out, hot and sticky. Pouring down the sides of his face in multiple directions, down his neck, his cheeks, up toward his nose.

“Look at that.” Eddie groaned, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Can’t even hold it all can you? But you’re still my perfect boy. Still tryin’ so hard for me.” Slowly, he pulled back. His cock slipping free with an obscene wet pop. He aimed the last final spurts across Steve’s chest, chin, and finally letting it hit the middle of his wrecked face, painting it further with heavy, creamy streaks.

His mouth hung wide open, a pool of cum sitting there, overflowing, spilling over his lips and out in every which direction. Then, with a shaky effort, he closed his mouth. A low broken moan escaping as he swallowed down what he could, the thick mess coating his throat as his head tipped back against the mattress.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Eddie breathed, staring down at the sight with a feral grin. “That’s my baby. Taking everything I got and still lookin’ like you want more. You’re mine sweetheart, forever. No one else is ever gonna have this pretty face.”

With a long, satisfied sigh, Eddie eased himself down onto the mattress. His chest heaved, still catching unnecessary breath as he tugged Steve close with one arm, pulling him into the warmth of his side. Steve curled up against him instantly, his body limp and heavy with something more than exhaustion, pressing a cum covered cheek against Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie’s other hand moved with lazy intent, dragging his fingers through the thick mess coating Steve’s chest and face, scooping up a generous amount of the sticky load. “Fuck, look at this mess.” Eddie murmured, his voice rough but warm as he brought his dripping fingers to Steve’s lips. “C’mon baby, clean it up for me.”

His eyes, heavy, fluttered halfway open. A faint hum of pleasure rumbling in his throat as he parted his lips. His tongue darting out weakly, lapping at the cum coating Eddie’s fingers, sucking them in with a slow, sloppy effort. The taste made him hum again, a soft, content sound as his tired body melted further against Eddie.

“That’s it.” Eddie whispered, his arm around Steve’s back tightening just enough to hold him closer, thumb rubbing soothing circles into messy skin. “You were so good for me, you know that? Absolutely perfect. Took everything I gave you and still wanted more. Never had anyone like you sweetheart. You’re something else.”

His lips curved into a sleepy, beaming smile around Eddie’s fingers. His tongue swirling lazily, sucking the last traces of cum off Eddie’s fingers, his eyes slipping shut as he savored the moment, nestled safe against Eddie’s side.

Eddie kept scooping, gathering more of the mess from Steve’s chest, his neck, even swiping some from his own thighs where Steve had painted him earlier, feeding it to him bit by bit. “Good boy.” He rasped, watching with a soft possessive grin as Steve licked his fingers clean each time. “Look at you, still hungry even after all that. Such a pretty boy Stevie, even licking up your own cum.”

It took a while, but eventually most of the cum was cleared from Steve’s skin, leaving him sticky but less coated. Eddie’s movements slowed, his hand resting on Steve’s hip as he let out a low chuckle. Then, with a reluctant groan, he shifted, sitting up slowly.

He let out a small, pitiful whine at the loss of contact, his hands weakly reaching for Eddie, trying to tug him back down.

“Shh, easy baby.” Eddie soothed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Steve’s messy forehead. “We gotta clean up. Look at this disaster. We ruined the mattress, Doc’s never gonna let us live that down. And you-.. Shit baby, you’re just drenched. An absolute mess. But.. As much as I want to.. Can’t just let you lay here in this mess.” He let out a small huff, smiling. “I mean I could and you’d probably love it. But we gotta clean up.”

He pouted, his whine turning softer, but his tired eyes flickered with understanding as he glanced down at himself.

Eddie stood, offering a hand to him with a lopsided grin. “C’mon, let’s get you showered and in some fresh clothes. Then we can crash again. I promise Stevie, I’m not going anywhere.”

---

Steve let out a weak grumble but took his hand, letting Eddie haul him up. He let out a soft gasp as Eddie scooped him up and started walking toward the showers. Not bothering to try and cover them.

The warm water helped, soothing, rising away the mess with a quiet intimacy. Eddie stayed close the whole time- helped where needed, teasing where he could get away with it. Until they were clean and dry, wrapped in soft clothes again.

They ended up in Steve’s room this time. It smelled like cold blood and tea that Eddie had left in there that morning. They had the overhead lights dimmed down, the hum of them more ambient than sharp. The quiet underground space wrapping around them like a blanket.

He lay on his side, pressed up against Eddie’s chest, their legs tangled under the blanket. He was content, eyelids drooping with that warm, heavy-lidded exhaustion that came after being completely unraveled. His breath came back, soft and steady, puffing against Eddie’s collarbone.

Eddie’s hand rested low on his hip, tracing slow, lazy patterns over the fabric of his sweats. His fingers followed the curve of bone to the dip of his waist, again and again, like a quiet ritual. Every so often, Eddie hummed- low and tuneless, just a soft sound to fill the silence. Something old, comforting.

He made a small, content noise, his fingers curling lightly into the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “You’re humming again.” He rasped out, barely audible.

“Yeah.” Eddie said softly, pressing a kiss into Steve’s hair. “Can’t help it when you look like this.”

He gave the smallest of smiles, one that barely lifted the corners of his mouth. “Like what?”

“Like you’re safe.” Eddie replied, honest, gentle.

He gave a quiet hum, too exhausted to reply. But he squeezed his hand into Eddie’s shirt. After several quiet minutes filled with Eddie’s soft humming he let out a small huff, mumbling out a response. “Mm safe. It’s real.. With you.”

The last thing he heard before he fell asleep was a quiet response. “Yeah Stevie.. This is real.”

---

The kitchen was quiet, but not peaceful.

Eddie sat at the table, hunched forward, a mug of blood clutched tight between his hands. The ceramic creaked faintly in protest every time his fingers twitched around it, the little cracking sound sharp in the silence. He hadn't taken a sip in a while. The blood having long since gone cold.

Steve moved restlessly behind him, wiping down the counters for the second- no, third time. The cloth was damp, fingers tight around it as he scrubbed at a spot that had nothing left on it. He’d already reorganized the spice rack, aligned the mugs, emptied and refilled the coffee machine. Twice. None of it helped the tension knotting in his stomach.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in that thing.” Eddie said quietly, voice flat but not unkind. Eyes still fixed on his mug.

He glanced over his shoulder, realizing he’d been scrubbing in the same spot for several minutes already. “Yeah.” He muttered. “Guess I’m just… Trying not to pace.”

Eddie let out a short exhale, not quite a laugh. “You could join me in slowly breaking ceramic instead.”

“Nah. Doc’d kill you.” He turned and leaned against the counter, towel thrown over his shoulder now, arms crossing over his chest. “Then me, for letting you ruin his favorite mug.”

Eddie tilted the mug slightly, examining it like he hadn’t realized how tight his grip had gotten. A thin spiderweb crack traced the side. He winced. “Shit.. He also said no blood in his mug.”

He walked over, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezing gently. “Hey. It’s fine. It’s just a mug.”

Eddie didn’t say anything at first. He slowly loosened his fingers, finally bringing the mug to his lips and taking a small sip. He grimaced. “This feels stupid.” He mumbled. “Like we’re planning a heist or something.”

“We kind of are.” He replied, trying to lighten the mood, but his voice was tight. “Breaking and entering, sneaking around military patrols, trying to out run creatures from hell.”

“Right. You make it sound romantic.” Eddie snorted, but there was a tremble under his sarcasm. “God.. What if he freaks out?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but footsteps on the stairs made them both freeze. A heartbeat later, the doctor emerged from the hall, holding a folded sheet of paper and a grim expression on his face.

“You’re lucky.” He said as he approached. “They changed his schedule but he’s on nights this week. He gets home just before sunrise.”

Doc handed the paper to Steve, who unfolded it immediately. It was scribbled in quick, clean handwriting- shift hours, an address which he already knew, notes about guard activity in and around Hawkins. Eddie stood beside him, reading over his shoulder.

“I checked patrol rotations. They’re lighter than usual today- most of the personnel have shifted closer to the town center. But you still need to be careful. There’s several new fences up, to try and keep the monsters out or keep them contained. I’ve marked what I can. There shouldn’t be any traps in the woods since civilians still go out there, but be ready.

He nodded slowly. “Okay. This is really helpful. Thank you.”

The doctor looked between them, frown softening slightly. “Just because they’re mostly in the town center doesn’t mean there won’t be patrols near the woods. Stay low, stay quiet, stay alive.

Eddie gave a slow nod. “Understood.”

There was a long pause.

“You sure about this?” The doctor asked again, quieter this time. “There’s a lot of risks involved.”

He glanced at Eddie. Eddie stared back.

And in perfect sync, they both nodded.

“We’re sure.”

---

The training room was silent but for the soft rustle of clothes and the distant sounds of their underground home. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a flat white glow over the lockers. It smelled faintly of detergent, rubber mats, and cement.

Eddie stood with his back to one of the open lockers, tugging his plain black shirt over his head. His curls sprang wild again as the cotton settled, and he looked up just in time to catch Steve reaching for him- fingertips brushing lightly against his waist. Just a touch. Just a confirmation.

Steve’s own shirt was half-on, the black fabric clinging to the shape of his torso as he leaned in a little closer. Eddie didn’t pull away. Instead, he let his own hand trail down Steve’s arm, pausing at his wrist, thumb smoothing over the sensitive skin just beneath the band of a watch.

They moved like gravity pulled them to one another, quiet, steady touches anchoring them in the space. Neither said much. They didn’t have to. The feeling from the bond had almost fully returned, not the thoughts, but the feelings. They both knew they were nervous, scared.

Steve’s voice broke the silence eventually, a soft whisper like it wasn’t meant to disturb the room, like anything louder might crack the fragile calm between them. “I think… It might be better if I approach Wayne first.”

Eddie’s brow creased, but he didn’t speak. Just waited.

Steve’s hand slid around to the small of Eddie’s back. “Not because I don’t want you there.” He said quickly, gently. “I do. But I don’t want him to have a heart attack when he sees you. I can talk to him. Prepare him. And then you can come in or.. Down the stairs. Okay?”

Eddie stared at him for a long moment, teeth working behind his lip. Then he nodded, slow and small. “Okay. Yeah. That makes sense.” He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just.. It’s been so long. What if he doesn’t-”

His hands quickly found Eddie’s waist again, warm and grounding. “He will.” He said low and certain. “Eds, he’s gonna lose his mind in the best of ways. But I just… I wanna make sure he’s ready before he sees you. I mean.. He thought you died in the Upside Down. He probably thinks I’m dead. One shock is.. Well all I’m saying is this is gonna be a lot for him.”

Eddie gave a breathy laugh. “You trying to be the emotional buffer?”

“I’m trying to make sure your uncle doesn’t shoot first and ask questions never.” He murmured, smiling faintly. “He almost shot me in the ass once… Remind me to tell you about that later.”

That earned a real huff of laughter from Eddie, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss just below his jaw before pulling back again. “I’ll tell you when you can come down or.. Around the corner? Wherever.”

“Don’t take too long.” Eddie said, more anxious than teasing.

“I won’t.” He ran a hand down Eddie’s arm, squeezing his fingers once before pulling away to finish tying his shoes.

They finished dressing in silence, both of them in black from shoulder to toe- ghosts of the living world, blending into shadow. But every few seconds, one reached for the other again. A hand brushing a hip. A knuckle against the spine. Just little touches, enough to say I’m here.

And soon, it was time to move.

Notes:

This chapter was short until a tumblr user politely requested that very long scene in the middle ;)

Some things it may seem I haven't mentioned or 'forgot' about. I assure you, I haven't. That unreliable narrator tag is there for a reason... Looking at you Steve.

Chapter 27: A Long-Expected Party

Summary:

The air shifted. Steve caught it too- the scent. Familiar. Warm. Cigarettes, beer, the faint bite of old denim.

Notes:

Back to our regularly scheduled program.

They stood at the edge of the cabin, the fading light casting long shadows across the moss covered clearing. The trees ahead were thick, darkening with the oncoming night, their branches shivering softly with the breeze. They were nervous, neither of them having come aboveground since they were brought here. Before, in the lab, they were begging for fresh air, begging to be free. Now, the air felt too open, too wide, too unknown.

Behind them, the doctor leaned against the doorframe, the butt of a shotgun braced against the wood like a cane, more for comfort than defense.

“You boy.. Be safe.” He said, voice low, gravel-soft. “If anything happens-”

“We’ll come back” Steve interrupted, glancing over his shoulder. His jaw was tight, but his eyes betrayed the weight of it all. “We promise.”

Eddie nodded beside him, fingers twitching at his sides. “We’ll be alright.” He whispered, like if he said it too loud it might jinx the whole thing.

The doctor gave a single, silent nod they couldn’t see, but they felt it all the same. His voice, when it came again, held the weight of someone who knew what it meant to let people go, and how rare it was for them to come back.

“I’ll monitor the radios. If either of you get caught-” He paused, exhaling slowly. “I’ll know. Just… Come back when you’re ready. The door will always be open, the blood always fresh. After all.. You’re the only two who know how to find me.” He attempted to lighten the mood, unsuccessfully.

Steve turned away fully then, offering a grateful nod. “Thanks Doc.. We’ll come back.”

Eddie hesitated only a moment longer before slipping his hand into Steve’s. No words passed between them, but the grip was firm, anchoring. They stepped forward together, the trees slowly swallowing them as they walked toward town.

Behind them, the doctor stayed at the door for a long while after they vanished into the woods, the shotgun still in his hand, as if willing them safe through the dark.

---

They moved like shadows- fast, low to the ground, slipping between the trunks of trees slick with moss and something they didn’t want to think about. The silence between them wasn’t just tactical anymore- it was survival.

Steve’s heart was thundering in his throat, fists clenched tight at his sides to keep from grabbing Eddie, from dragging him down into the dirt and hiding them both beneath the roots. He wanted to turn back. To go back to the underground. Where it was safe. Where he didn’t have to see the terrified look on Eddie’s face when he finally saw them.

But Eddie was just ahead of him, just out of reach, moving like something half-feral, half-starved, and entirely focused. Their bond weakly throbbed with urgency.

They were close.

Too close.

The ground shivered beneath them before the sound reached their ears- a low, distorted clicking that snapped through the trees, like bones breaking under pressure. Steve dropped into a crouch behind a fallen trunk, Eddie slipping in beside him a second later. Neither of them breathed. Not really.

A crack echoed- too sharp. A branch? A jaw?

Three.

He felt the breath Eddie sucked in before he heard it. His hand quickly coming up to cover his mouth. His eyes darting toward the east, where the scent was thickest. Eddie nodded once.

Careful not to make a sound, he dropped his hand, letting his fingers ghost over Eddie’s. They found one another again, fingers slotting together as the scent of fear was thick between them. He gave the slightest squeeze in hopes of communicating with him.

Don’t move.

Don’t breathe.

Don’t let them find us.

Slowly, the demogorgons passed between the trees like predators on high alert, heads twitching side to side, maws twitching open with slick, wet clicks as they scented the air. Their limbs moved with that eerie, unnatural precision- like insects, like machines.

One of them paused not fifteen feet away, its eyeless face lifted toward the canopy, nostrils flaring with long, drawn out huffs.

His terrified eyes found Eddie’s. But they didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. Through the bond he felt Eddie’s fear, his terror matching his own.

A second demogorgon moved closer, creeping slowly. It stopped just behind the first, head cocking sharply like it heard something. Its claws twitched. Tensed.

Steve swallowed hard. -No. No, no, no…-

The first let out a growl- an exhale more than a sound. And snapped its jaws once.

Slowly the third turned toward them, inching closer.

Until it froze, turning its head sharply in the opposite direction.

Then-

They moved.

The trio turned as one, bounding off toward the south with vicious speed, melting into the trees like ghosts.

Gone.

Steve didn’t realize he was shaking until Eddie’s hand closed around his wrist, grounding him.

They had to move. Now.

They didn’t run- but they were close to it. Steps fast, light, barely touching the ground. Hearts pounding in tandem, every sense strained like piano wire. Neither looking back.

They couldn’t afford to.

Not yet.

---

They were getting closer.

The forest had begun to thin around them, and now the distant hum of cars, the low murmur of people’s voices, and the sharp scent of civilization bled through the trees. The distant, faint smell of gunpowder clung to the air. Beneath it, anxiety. A tremor in the scent of soldiers who had passed through hours prior.

And underneath that, barely noticeable, but unmistakable to him. A smell he never wanted to experience again burned at his nostrils. The acidic scent of demogorgon blood.

He crouched lower behind the thick trunk of a tree, pulling Eddie down beside him as they stared in the direction of Hawkins. “Hey.” He whispered, voice kept low beneath the rustle of leaves. He squeezed Eddie’s hand lightly. “I just think-” His mouth clamped shut. Every muscle in his body locked.

A twig snapped.

Somewhere in the distance, no more than a shadow in the dark. But still too close for comfort.

He gave Eddie’s hand one, sharp tug. They moved silently.

They pressed close against the trees as they moved through the dark. Each step was careful, planned, deliberate, barely breathing only to scent the air, hearts pounding in unison. The town was ahead now, lights twinkling faintly through the canopy. And just beyond a clearing- movement. Camouflage. Rifles. Soldiers.

They dropped low, hidden between the trees. Far enough away that the lights couldn’t touch them, but close enough to see the sheen of kevlar and the gleam of metal in the moonless night.

Eddie was holding his hand so tightly it would have broken bones if Steve were still human.

He ran his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles slowly, grounding himself. Trying to pull them both back down to earth. They didn’t dare utter a word.

But something shifted in his mind- something frayed. His breath caught.

But he… He couldn’t..

He couldn’t remember, just for a moment. He couldn’t remember if any of this was real. He couldn’t remember where they were. Where was Wayne?

The woods felt too quiet. Too dream like. The air too thick.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Eddie’s face was turned away, scanning the treeline, body tense and ready.

Steve opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

-Eddie….- He tried.

No response.

His chest tightened. His free hand curling into the dirt.

-Eddie, please. I… I don’t..-

Still nothing. Not even a flicker.

He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in ragged and shallow. The scent of demogorgon blood still hung somewhere distant. Too real. This was real. It had to be.

-Eddie, please.-

Then- warmth. Like a furnace turned on high. Chasing away the cold that had settled deep into his bones. ‘Steve?’

He snapped his head up, breath catching.

-Eddie..- He pushed the thought, gently, like nudging open a door. -Eddie. I..-

‘I know.. I feel you Stevie.... C’mon.’ The words were soft in his mind, and then Eddie’s hand shifted in his. A gentle tug. ‘It’s just around this way.’

Eddie didn’t wait for him to answer, just led them further along the perimeter, staying low, staying silent. The lights and soldiers fading behind them.

He let out a long breath, clinging to Eddie’s hand like a lifeline. Every step now grounded. Real. That was close, too close. But Wayne’s house was just around the next stretch of trees.

They didn’t speak.

But they didn't need to. Not anymore.

Not with the bond thrumming back to life between them. A low pulse of reassurance and awareness- Steve could feel Eddie’s nerves spiking before he ever heard a sharp inhale.

They moved in silence, stepping over roots and fallen limbs, until the trees thinned just enough to offer a view of the familiar clearing ahead.

Eddie stopped suddenly.

He nearly bumped into him before coming to stand beside him.

-Eddie?-

The air shifted. Steve caught it too- the scent. Familiar. Warm. Cigarettes, beer, the faint bite of old denim.

‘That’s… It smells like..’ Eddie’s voice echoed through the bond, thick with fear. ‘That’s his house, isn’t it?’

He moved quickly, circling around to face Eddie. Hands light but firm on his shoulders. -Eds.. Hey.- He leaned in just enough for their forehead to touch. -It’s alright. It’s just us right now. Just you and me. Wayne’s still got a shift to finish, we’ve got time.-

Eddie’s jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving the house beyond the trees. The porch light was off, the windows dark. ‘He’s always left at least one light on.’ Eddie whispered through the bond, his response cracking like something in him might break with it.

He rubbed slow circles into the curve of Eddie’s shoulders. -I know.. How about we turn it on for him, hmm?-

They stood like that for several minutes, the woods around them quiet. The dark blanketing them, keeping the rest of the world out.

Finally, Eddie nodded. Just once.

Steve took his hand again.

They moved slowly, step by step, toward the edge of the woods. Towards the house. They crept in the shadows, their shapes barely more than a whisper between trees, until they stood at the side of the house- so close now that every crack in the siding, every familiar corner, felt like a weight pressing into his ribs.

Steve looked up at the dark window- the one Wayne had made for Eddie. A room that had waited longer than anyone should have to.

He turned to Eddie. The other’s face was paler than normal to his eyes, jaw tight, breathing just enough to scent. He looked like he was bracing for an impact that hadn’t yet come.

He brought their joined hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss against Eddie’s knuckles. It wasn’t quick. He let it linger, like he was hoping to leave something there- a promise maybe. Or a prayer.

Then he let go.

He took several steps back, boots barely brushing the ground, and took a breath that felt too big for his chest. Then, with quiet force, he sprinted toward the house. His foot caught the edge of the porch just right, and he launched himself upward. Hand catching the gutter as his legs swung high. He hauled himself onto the roof with smooth, practiced ease- one of the many things they’d practiced in the training room. Another borrowed skill that made him feel less like a kid anymore and more like someone capable of surviving this life.

He looked down, eyes catching Eddie’s for only a second. Then he was at the window, fingers finding the frame and sliding it up slow, cautious. It gave way with a soft creak of disuse.

He leaned back over the roof, hand outstretched.

Eddie jumped.

He caught him without hesitation, pulling him up with ease. For a moment they were both on the roof, crouched low, staring at one another. Adrenaline humming in their ears, glad there were no neighbors to see them. Then, they slipped inside.

They landed in practiced silence.

The room was dark and still, but alive in a way that made his throat tighten. The smell hit him first- Wayne. Tobacco. Old coffee. Laundry detergent. Dust and iron and something warm that smelled like coming home. And beneath it all, so faint it almost wasn’t there, was Eddie, but different. Like static clinging to fabric. The human he used to be. So close to how he smelled now but also so very different. A scent he’d never forget.

-He tried to make it look like your old room.- He whispered through their bond. -But some things got destroyed in the….. Earthquake.-

Eddie didn’t speak, just let out a quiet, barely there hum. He walked slowly through the room, his fingers trailing over old posters pinned to freshly painted walls. His boots cracked against the floorboards as he moved toward the bookcase- new, but already well worn from waiting.

-He wanted it to feel like yours again.- He continued gently. -Somewhere safe. For your books, your tapes. He got you a desk too, in case you ever came back and needed to plan another..-

‘Steve.’

His voice cracked through the bond like a ripple.

Steve turned. Eddie stood holding up a book. Its spine was well worn and soft with age, the cover bent from use. ‘The Fellowship of the Ring…’ Eddie’s smile trembled as he held it out. ‘I could read it to you again.. If you’d like.. Maybe we’ll get to finish it this time.’

He crossed the room like the air had thickened, his heart so full it ached. -Eddie..- He whispered, standing close enough they nearly pressed together, eyes locked on his. -I’d love nothing more.-

He reached up, hand settling gently against Eddie’s cheek. His thumb moved slow, catching the tear that had begun to fall. -It’s okay, Eds.- Voice steady, even if his hands weren’t. -It’s gonna be okay. Wayne’ll be home in a couple of hours. It’ll all be okay. We’ll get to see him again.-

Eddie leaned forward until their foreheads touched, his eyes closing as he breathed Steve in. ‘Yeah?’ He asked, voice paper thin. ‘Promise?’

-Promise.- He answered, letting the word carry all the weight he could give it. -Why don’t we lie down for a bit, hmm?- He added gently after the silence stretched on, brushing a hand down Eddie’s arm. -Your new bed’s real comfy.-

Slowly, he took the book from Eddie and set it carefully on the desk.

Eddie exhaled, a sound like he was trying to laugh but didn’t quite make it. ‘Tryin’ to get me into bed Stevie?’

He smiled softly. -Maybe I am. Can you blame me? I’ve got myself a pretty great boyfriend after all.-

A breath of laughter, quiet, tired, left Eddie’s lips. But he reached out, fingers threading through Steve’s again. He gave them a squeeze.

And for a moment, they just stood there- fingers threaded, hearts thudding out uneven rhythms against their ribs.

Then Eddie spoke aloud, voice barely more than a breath. “Right now I feel like.. I’m made of glass.” He admitted. “Like I’m mid-fall.. Just waiting to hit the floor and shatter.”

His breath caught, the weight of the words sinking deep into his chest. He let his thumb brush softly over Eddie’s knuckles.

“Then we’ll land slow.” He said gently. “I won’t let you break.”

Eddie gave a fragile nod, his eyes flickering toward the door. “Can I… Can we look around first? Before we… Y’know. Before he comes home.”

Steve didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” He whispered. “Anything you want. We’ve got plenty of time.”

They moved slowly, footsteps feather soft on the wooden floor. The house was silent- too silent, but not unfamiliar to him. The dark didn’t scare them. Their eyes long since adjusted, pupils wide and unafraid. One of the few gifts that made their lives easier.

They crept through the hall like ghosts. The air was thick- not just with dust, but with the scent of Wayne. His cigarettes. His aftershave. The detergent that he never changed. His favorite beer. All of it wrapped around them like a worn jacket, comforting in its weight.

But under it, another scent pulsed.

Something low and sad.

An ache soaked into the walls like water damage. And the longer they were there, the more they could feel it in certain places- like stains only grief could leave behind.

The hallway was the worst of it.

They didn’t speak as they passed sun-faded wallpaper, the one Wayne had wanted his help to remove. But it was there- just to the left of a bathroom, that hit them the hardest.

Steve felt Eddie stop beside him. He turned his head and saw what Eddie was staring at.

Framed photos that hadn’t been there before.

They weren’t fancy. Just those cheap, glossy prints in a plain wooden frame. But they held everything. And the one he was looking at-

A younger Eddie- twelve, maybe thirteen. Grinning in a way that was all teeth and trouble, arms around Wayne’s middle as the older man gave the camera a half smile, weathered and tired but content. They were standing in front of a fishing shack, Eddie’s barely grown out hair wind-tossed, Wayne’s too big flannel hanging off his shoulders.

The smell of sorrow was sharp here. Pungent. Like rust on old metal.

Steve didn’t speak. Didn’t need to ask.

He knew Wayne had stopped here, more than once. Had probably lingered with a hand pressed to the glass. Maybe whispered something. Maybe just standing there, aching.

Eddie was staring at the photo like he could reach into it. Like if he stood there long enough, the moment might crawl out of the frame and take him back.

He reached out, not to pull him away, but to remind Eddie he was there. A hand brushing lightly over the back of his shoulder. -Take your time.- He gently pushed through, quiet and steady. -We’re not in a hur..-

He cut himself off, breathing catching as his eyes moved a few inches down the wall.

There, tucked slightly lower than the photo of Eddie and Wayne, were a handful more.

Unframed prints, stuck up with uneven strips of yellowing tape. Steve’s hand dropped from Eddie’s shoulder as he stepped closer, the air suddenly too thick in his throat.

The first one he’d never seen before.

But he knew immediately who had to have taken it. He was.. Always taking photos of them, never the photographed. He remembers the camera in hand, remembered the shutter click in passing, but he hadn’t known it was aimed at him. At them.

He and Wayne were outside, just off the porch of Hopper’s cabin. It was dusk- the lighting soft and shadowed. Wayne had that tired, crinked smile on, the one he only ever saw in old photos from Eddie’s childhood. Like he was holding onto something small and warm in both hands. Steve was in mid-gesture, one hand caught mid air, a grin breaking across his face, eyes half-lidded like he was still laughing at something Wayne had said.

He couldn’t remember what it had been about. Probably something small. Something dumb. But the way they looked in the photo-

They looked like family.

Steve’s fingers hovered just near the edge of the photo, afraid to touch it. Afraid he’d smudge it. Ruin it.

Next to it, another.

They’re in the Byers's kitchen this time. He doesn’t remember this, doesn’t remember when they got their house back either. But none of that matters, not right now. It was dim and cluttered, and familiar in the way all lived in spaces are. Steve was leaning against the counter, Wayne in the foreground with the fridge open, holding out a beer. Both of them looked tired. Not just tired- worn. There were creases in Wayne’s face Steve didn’t remember seeing in person. Lines that grief had carved deep. And Steve-

He looked like someone who was pretending not to drown.

His smile was small. Tired. Something in his eyes said he hadn’t slept. But still, he’d been reaching out for the beer. Still, he’d stood there, in the kitchen of a house he couldn’t quite remember, with a man who didn’t owe him anything, and accepted the quiet comfort offered.

His throat tightened.

He swallowed and forced his eyes away, only to land on the last photo.

Just him this time. But he didn’t remember this one either.

It was taken at home- he knew it instantly, even if some of the details were fuzzy. It was his kitchen. The kids’ chaos behind him, unmistakable in its joyful destruction. He was holding out a dripping dish towel, brow furrowed, clearly mid-scold. There was cake batter splattered across his face, a glob in his hair, streaking across his shirt. And still-

He didn’t look mad.

He looked alive. Tried and exasperated and maybe a little overwhelmed- but alive.

The kids’ heads were in the bottom of the frame, but out of focus. The photo wasn’t about them.

It had been taken for him.

Maybe by Dustin?.. Or maybe E.. Eleven?.... -No. No it was Jonathan. Jonathan was the one with the camera.-

He could feel the weight of those moments pressing down on his ribs. Like if he breathed too hard, it’d all spill out- everything he’d carried since that first night with the demogorgon. Everything he thought he’d buried to survive the lab.

Wayne had kept these. Hung them up. Not because they were perfect. But because they were real.

He felt Eddie shift beside him.

Real.. This was real.

Then, a soft thought brushed against his mind. Hesitant but grounding.

‘You look happy in that one.’

He blinked, breath shivering out of him. -Yeah..- He whispered back. -I was… I think.-

He looked over at Eddie, who was staring again at the photo of him as a boy, still unmoving, eyes wide and wet in the dark. -He’s gonna be so happy to see you… You know that right?-

Eddie nodded, but it was a brittle thing. His voice, when it finally came, was rough. “I’m scared he won’t look at me the same.”

He reached for Eddie’s hand again, curling their fingers together. “Then let him show you that he does. And if.. If he doesn’t know how. We’ll… I’ll remind him.”

They stood there, side by side, in the quiet hum of memory. Two ghosts trying to come back to the land of the living.

And the lights in the hallway stayed off.

But still- they saw everything.

Eddie’s fingers trembled between their hands, but eventually he gave a small tug- just enough to say I need to keep going.

Steve nodded once, gently, and let himself be led.

It took effort- real physical effort, for Eddie to turn his head away from the photo. Like tearing velcro from his soul. But he did. He pulled his gaze forward and stepped down the hall like the air might turn to water any second and drown him in the weight of it all.

They passed an open door first, a bathroom, and Eddie paused.

The room was small, clean. A single towel folded neatly over the rack. Two never used toothbrushes sat in the cup by the sink. But what made Eddie stop- really stop. Were the bottles on the shelf.

Eddie stood there, he blinked, then blinked again.

He stared at them like they’d disappear if he looked away.

The conditioner with the purple label. The leave-in serum that always made his curls fall just right. The ones he only bought when he’d gotten a good sale or was invited to sell at a party. Most were untouched, full, like they were waiting for someone.

Waiting for Eddie.

Eddie swallowed audibly, hand tightening around Steve’s as he stared.

“He never stopped hoping you’d just.. Show up one day, Eds.” He whispered between them.

Eddie nodded once, barely.

Then he pulled him down the hall again, past the photos, past the shadows, to the end of the hall.

The door was closed, but it might as well have been open for how loud the scent hit them. The source of it. Smoke. Oil. The faint sting of something metallic. Coffee that he knew secretly held too much milk and sugar. Flannel, long nights and tired hands.

Home.

Eddie stood frozen in front of it. Steve felt it in the bond- the drop, the weight. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

They stood there, barely breathing.

But neither moved to open the door.

After a long moment, Eddie exhaled- long and slow. And turned away. They’d come back to that.

When they were ready.

Instead, he moved toward the room near the railing, next to his own. The door just barely cracked, like an invitation waiting for years to be answered.

Eddie glanced back at him, questioning.

“This one was just-...” He started softly, just a storage room, was what he meant to say. What he knew it had been, once. But the words caught on his tongue. Frozen.

Because as Eddie pushed the door open wider, the faintest whisper of scent spilled out.

And Steve knew it instantly. How had he not smelled it before?

That too familiar cologne. The kind he wore only on special days, happier days. His good hair products, the ones he saved for dates and job interviews. Clean cotton and something warm underneath- faint but undeniably him.

Steve stepped forward, slowly. Like the ground beneath him might give out. He didn’t dare turn on a light.

Eddie watched him carefully as he passed through the doorway, into a room neither of them had ever seen before. And Steve-

He stopped breathing.

There wasn’t much. A bed, modest and neatly made. A dresser. A shelf with a few of his favorite tapes, ones he never told anyone about in his glovebox, and several of his trophies- his, not the kids’, A hoodie draped over the chair in the corner- his favorite soft red and white one, the one he’d thought he lost before…. Before everything.

And leaning against the wall, right beside the dresser, like it had always belonged there-

His nail bat.

Steve’s hand shot out, halfway to reaching it before he stopped. Frozen. Shaking.

He stared at it like it might vanish, hand outstretched.

And then, slowly, his shoulders crumpled inward. His hand went to his mouth, and he bent forward with a gasp too fragile to be heard.

His body shook silently with sobs he didn’t mean to let out.

But they came anyway.

Uncontrollable and raw, like grief and love had joined hands and knocked the wind clear out of him.

Because this- this wasn’t a storage room. This wasn’t a guest room.

Wayne had made him his own bedroom.

Not a borrowed bed to crash on. Not a couch just for the night. A room.

For him.

Eddie crossed the threshold behind him and stood close, not touching yet, but there. Always there.

His voice in Steve’s mind was like a cracked whisper. ‘He wanted you to stay. Even if I couldn’t come back…. He was still hoping one of us would.’

Steve let out a sound- small, broken, grateful.

And Eddie finally moved, arms slipping around him from behind. Holding him up as Steve finally broke down.

They stood there in the dark, wrapped around each other in the room built from hope.

And for the first time since his world ended, Steve let himself believe it might begin again.

Notes:

I'm so sorry for the way this chapter ends! But it was too beautiful of a scene for me to continue. :) Enjoy!

Chapter 28: We Meet Again

Summary:

It was like everything was set to slow motion as the beer slipped from the man’s hand. The bottle hit the floor with a sickening shatter

They don’t know how long they stood like that.

It could’ve been minutes. Could’ve been hours.

But slowly, reluctantly, they pulled apart.

Steve’s hand dragged across his face, catching the tears he hadn’t realized were still falling. He felt peeled back, exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the air in the room. And everything to do with the weight of the truth they’d just walked into.

“Wayne, he…” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat softly. Blinking several times to clear the tears. “He used to sleep in the master downstairs. I guess-..” A shallow, trembling breath. “After we both were gone, he just… Wanted to be closer.”

Eddie didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. He leaned forward and placed a quiet, loving kiss to Steve’s forehead. A touch filled with understanding, apology, grief- everything that hadn’t yet found words.

Steve let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and reached for him again, fingers curling into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt like he was afraid to let go.

The silence between them was thick, not empty, but full of the things they couldn’t say. The ache of absence. The ghost of a man who stayed, waiting, grieving.

Slowly they left the room behind, stepping back into the hallway, together. The air colder than before.

They looked back only once.

The faint smell of Steve’s cologne still lingered, like the echo of a heartbeat.

He was here. He had been here.

Wayne had made space. Not just a memory. But for a return.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, squeezing Eddie’s hand gently. “C’mon.” He whispered. “I’ll show you around downstairs.”

And side by side, they moved forward again- quieter this time.

Like the house was listening.

---

They were standing in the laundry room, Steve’s hand cradling Eddie’s cheek, their foreheads nearly pressed together as they kissed- full of love and sorrow, and everything they hadn’t dared say. A promise sealed between them in silence.

Then-

The distant rumble of a truck.

A sound so familiar it cut the air in half.

They stood frozen. They both know it, deep in their bones.

Wayne’s truck.

A sound neither of them ever thought they’d hear again.

They pulled apart quickly. Eddie’s hand finding his and gripping it like it would prevent him from drowning.

-Hey.- He whispered through the bond, his mind steady even as his heart stuttered. He didn’t dare speak aloud as the truck grew closer.

-It’ll be okay.- The sound grew louder. Closer. The tires crunching over gravel and dirt. A truck they hadn’t heard in who knows how long, now right outside the door.

-Just stay here, okay? Let me talk to him first.-

Eddie nodded, trembling as the truck engine sputtered off. ‘Steve… I’m-’

-I know.- The driver’s door slammed shut as footsteps grew closer.

-Just take a deep breath. It’s alright. I promise.-

Keys jingled. The lock turned. ‘I’m scared.’ Whispered through the bond. Eddie’s hand giving one last, tight squeeze before letting go. -Just.. Wait out of sight. Okay?-

The front door opened with a familiar creak, followed by the soft click of it shutting behind the man they were waiting all night for. A light clicked on. The shuffle of routine. The creak of cabinets.

Eddie shrank back into the laundry room shadows, hands fisting into his shirt. He turned toward the hallway, slowly- like he was walking through water.

Slowly Steve moved down the hall, his steps soundless as he moved around the corner. His chest aching. He could hear Wayne in the kitchen. The smell of leftover grease and sweat from work.

He stopped at the corner of the stairs, his heart pounding, his hands shaking, but he stood frozen as he watched Wayne lean into the fridge, pulling out a beer.

He licked over his lips. Nervous. But it was now, or never. His voice, when it came, was cracked and hoarse, full of emotions he couldn’t name. It came out quiet, scared. Scared that Wayne wouldn’t hear him. Terrified that he would. “... Wayne?”

It was like everything was set to slow motion as the beer slipped from the man’s hand. The bottle hit the floor with a sickening shatter, glass exploding across the tile and beer pooling beneath his boots. The sound cut through the silence like a gunshot.

Time didn’t just slow- it stopped.

Wayne stood frozen, the fridge door still wide open, its light casting a harsh glow across the room. He turned, slowly, his body moving as if he had forgotten how.

His eyes scanned the kitchen wildly, panicked, as if he didn’t trust what he’d heard.

They searched the space like he expected it to vanish- a dream, a trick of still heavy grief.

Until he saw him.

Steve. Whole, breathing heavily, real. Alive.

Wayne’s face crumpled. His breath hitched audibly. His hands made to reach out, a barely there twitch by his side like he didn’t quite trust it to make contact.

His mouth opened like he wanted to speak, then closed again. A hand opened and closed uselessly at his side.

And then- stepping over the glass, unblinking, uncaring in favor of something far more important. He crossed the space in long confident strides. Tears gathering in his eyes.

“S… Steve?” His voice cracked, small and breaking. Scared. Like he was choking on the name.

He could feel his lips beginning to tremble, his throat tightening. “Hi.” He replied shakily, tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

Wayne didn’t hesitate, reaching for him with shaking hands, grabbing him by the shoulders like he was afraid he’d disappear. “Steve.” He replied a little more confidently.

Then he was there, arms pulling Steve in so tightly it knocked the breath from his lungs.

Steve crumpled into him, fists curling into the back of Wayne’s work shirt. Sobs tearing free from somewhere deep inside- raw and helpless. Years of grief finally breaking loose onto a man who treated him more like a son than his own father had.

Wayne’s trembling hand came up, cradling the back of his head, pressing their foreheads together like he’d done when Steve couldn’t sleep after a nightmare. Like he used to do when Eddie was little and too scared of the dark to sleep.

“I thought-..” Wayne gasped. His voice breaking on the words. “I thought I lost you too.”

“I didn’t mean to go.” He whispered, voice cracking. “I should’a come over that night I…. I didn’t know how to come back.”

“You’re here now.” Wayne’s voice was wet with tears, thick with grief that no one had been able to take from him. “You came home”

Behind them, Eddie stood in the hallway, pressed against the wall, unseen, silent. But Steve could feel him there. Waiting.

But they couldn’t wait anymore. It wasn’t fair.

Steve slowly pulled back, enough to look Wayne in the eyes, hands moving to grip his arms. “I’ll tell you everything, I promise.” He said, hoarse and still trembling. “Everything that happened, everything I remember. But I need to tell you something first, and I need you to listen.”

Wayne opened his mouth- already shaking his head, already wanting to pull him close again.

“Wayne- please.” He cut in, firmer now, both hands coming up to hold his. His palms were cold. His fingers shaking. “This can’t wait. It’s more important than anything else. Please.”

Wayne closed his mouth, nodding slowly, searching Steve’s face like he already knew something terrible was coming.

Steve swallowed hard, looking down at their joined hands, then back up. His eyes were glassy, red-rimmed. “I… I felt it. Before everything happened. Before I got.. Taken.” He started, voice fragile, breaking apart. “This… This cold feeling. Deep down. Like ice in my chest. And I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how.”

Wayne’s brow furrowed, mouth opening again.

“But I’m glad I didn’t.” Steve rushed out before he could speak. “If I had-.. If I’d said anything-... It would’ve made it worse. It would’ve put more people in danger.”

Wayne tried again, voice cracking. “Danger… Made what worse-?”

“I left him there!” He cried, like the words had been buried, festering inside him for years. “I didn’t check. I didn’t look. I should’ve-.. I should've gone back! I didn’t do better! I didn’t protect him-”

Wayne tried to cut in, voice shaking with urgency. “Steve, it wasn’t your fault-”

“I know! I know it wasn’t-.. But I’m still sorry.” His voice broke, sharp and raw. “Because I did it again.. Because Wayne-” He took a shaky breath, chest heaving. “Because they had him. Too.”

Wayne tensed, body freezing.

Steve’s hand trembled where they clutched at him, not tight enough to hurt him. He’d never. “Eddie.” He continued, like it hurt to speak his name still. “They had Eddie. They took him too.”

Wayne stood staring, eyes wide, like the air had been punched from his lungs.

Steve slowly turned, his hands falling away from Wayne’s. His gaze shifted back- back toward the dark hallway behind them.

And Eddie stepped forward.

His boots were nearly silent. His face was streaked with tears, jaw trembling, eyes shining with unspeakable grief and something fragile underneath- hope.

He came into the light slowly, cautiously.

One more step. Then another. And another.

Wayne stared.

And then he saw him.

Saw the truth of him. The months, years, however long it had been, carved into Eddie’s frame, the longer hair, his eyes older, haunted- but still his.

Wayne’s breath hitched, body trembling near violently.

His lips moved like he was trying to speak, but the words didn’t come.

And then-

Barely audible, the softest gasp of a sound, barely more than breath. So quiet even they had to strain to hear it.

“...Eds?”

Eddie let out a sound that was half sob, half laugh. Like the air had finally been knocked out of him.

And Wayne stumbled forward.

They met in the middle.

No hesitation. No fear.

Wayne wrapped his arms around Eddie, tighter than anything he’d thought himself capable of, and Eddie collapsed into it- into him. Into the man who had raised him, waited for him, believed in him when no one else had.. Accepted him for who he was.

Eddie sobbed into his shoulder like he was falling apart. Like maybe he could finally break now, because someone was there to hold the pieces.

Wayne held him like he’d never let go again. His whole body was shaking as he cried, and Steve could see it- all of it. The grief cracking open and being filled by something too big to name.

“I thought I lost you… Both of you.” Wayne whispered, broken, kissing the side of Eddie’s head. “I thought-.. I buried you… An empty coffin with your name on it. But I still did it. I thought-.”

“I know.” Eddie choked out. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Wayne pulled back just enough to look at him, hands cupping Eddie’s face like he couldn’t believe it was real. His thumbs brushed the tears from his cheeks, eyes wide and wild, and full of love.

“You came back.. Both of you.” Wayne whispered, with the same reverence as before.”

But this time, his voice broke.

Because it wasn’t just a statement.

It was a prayer.

And it had been answered.

---

After the tears had dried, faces washed, and the shattered glass carefully swept away, the house settled into a quiet hush- one that felt different now. Lighter. Whole again.

They sat on one of the couches in the living room, the old fabric worn and familiar. Eddie and Steve leaning into one another, legs curled close, hands lightly entwined against the cushion between them. Wayne sat across from them in his old, ratty recliner, a piece he refused to leave behind in the trailer, elbows resting on his knees, eyes watching with them something between peace and awe.

“You said you’d tell me everything.” Wayne said softly, his voice still hoarse from crying, but gentler now. “And I do want to hear it. But first…” He leaned forward a little, a soft, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His gaze dropped to their joined hands, resting on the opening between them.

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.

Steve felt Eddie tense a little beside him before he exhales slowly, then gave the smallest, almost shy nod. And with a breath barely more than a whisper, Steve answered. “Yeah.”

Wayne’s smile widened just a touch before he huffed and sat back, crossing his arms. “Good. ‘Bout time too.”

“What?” Eddie asked, brows furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wayne raised an eyebrow, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, come on. Between you complainin’ to me ‘bout ‘King Steve this’ and ‘King Steve that’- and don’t think I forgot about the whole rant ‘bout him in that damn sailor uniform.-”

Eddie groaned loud enough to muffle his own embarrassment, throwing his head back against the couch cushion. “You’re killing me, old man.”

Wayne just kept going, smirking now. “And then there’s Steve- wanderin’ ‘round here in that filthy blood covered vest ‘o yours, clingin’ to your favorite pillow in his sleep like some sort of heartbroken raccoon.”

“Hey!” Steve cut in, half indignant, half laughing “I did not!”

“You most certainly did.” Wayne shot back, smiling at them both. “Wouldn’t let anyone touch that damn thing either. Thought you were gonna start sleepin’ in Ed’s old boots next.”

Steve flushed, and Eddie was full on cackling now, cheeks pink, eyes bright for the first time in what felt like forever.

But then Wayne’s tone softened. That teasing glint in his eyes faded into something deeper- something that had been waiting, aching, for far too long. “I’ll be honest with you boys.” He said, voice quieter. “After what happened… I didn’t think I’d ever see this. Not just you two alive- but like this. Happy. Whole.” He shook his head slowly. “I never thought you’d both get your heads outta y’ur asses long enough to figure it out.”

Eddie blinked, caught off guard by the weight of it. Steve gave a soft, watery laugh.

Wayne leaned back, rubbing a hand over his jaw, and looked at them like he was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream. “But I’m damn glad you did.”

The room fell quiet again, but this time it wasn’t heavy.

It was full.

Full of all the things they thought they’d never get to say. All the things they thought were lost to them.

And for the first time in a long, long time-

They let themselves feel the warmth of being home.

---

After a while, the quiet settled like a warm blanket- comfortable, steady, something none of them had dared to imagine having again.

Eventually, Wayne shifted out of his seat with a soft groan, joints popping as he stood. “Well… I’m gettin’ hungry. Might as well make some breakfast.” He stretched a bit, then glanced over his shoulder. “You boys want anything?.. Steve?”

His voice wavered slightly, unsure, as he looked between them. An unspoked question hanging behind his words. “I still keep the regular supply, y’know.” He said, softer now. “Just in case.. If you’re thirsty.”

Steve’s smile was small, but it trembled at the edges. After everything- all the time that had passed, all the silence and grief. Wayne still kept a fresh supply on hand. Just in case. His chest ached with it. “Thanks.” He murmured, voice thick. “But… We’re both good. I mean.. I could go for some, sure- but I’m not exactly dying of thirst right now.”

At that, Eddie gave a weak little huff of laughter beside him. “Poor choice of words Harrington.”

Wayne blinked at them, then frowned slightly. His eyes moving between the two of them, a slow understanding dawning like the runside outside. “... The.. Both of you?” He asked, quiet.

Eddie’s hand tightened in Steve’s. The bond between them fluttered with a fresh pulse of fear, guilt, shame. He stared down at their linked hands, swallowing hard. “...Yeah.” He whispered.

He gave a gentle squeeze to Eddie’s hand. “Yeah.. It wasn’t just me the bats got. I mean.. I told you about his wounds.” He licked over his lips, hesitating. He hadn’t said this yet, hadn’t told him the words. But he needed to, it was Wayne.

“Vampires.” He whispered, more breath than words. “We’re both.. Vampires.”

Wayne stared at them a beat longer, then let out a slow, heavy breath. He didn’t speak right away, just gave a small nod and turned toward the kitchen. “Alright then.” He said, voice firm but calm. He didn’t smell of confusion, of anger, or even fear. “Two cups, comin’ right up. You can drink ‘em while I make us breakfast.”

Eddie’s head shot up, eyes wide, mouth parted. “You just-..?”

Wayne turned around, cutting him off gently. “Eds..” He used the name like a balm. “I’ve raised you. I knew you when you went to play dungeons and dragons tellin’ me it was detention. I knew you when you were stealin’ cigarettes off the top shelf and leavin’ me a single damn cookie in the tin like I wouldn’t notice.”

Steve snorted despite himself.

Wayne’s eyes were soft, warm, and glistening. “I knew you when you started lookin’ at boys and didn’t wanna say it. I knew when you started talkin’ ‘bout Steve like he hung the damn moon but acted like you wanted ‘ta hate him.”

Eddie looked like he might collapse under the weight of his words.

“You think I wouldn’t accept this?” Wayne continued. “Son… You’ve always been a little strange. Always been a bit late to the party. And I’ve always loved you for it. I mean hell son I’ve gone through your biting phase before, this is just a little different. I’ve already accepted Steve, so you really think I wouldn’t accept you? You’re my son Eddie. Might not be mine, but you’re my son. And I’ve always loved you, no matter what. This?” He shrugged. “This don’t scare me.”

Eddie didn’t move at first.

Then, suddenly- he was on his feet.

Before Wayne or Steve could blink, Eddie launched himself forward and wrapped Wayne in a crushing embrace, arms tight, face buried in his shoulder as a whole new wave of tears overtook him. He was shaking, clinging.

Wayne didn’t flinch. He wrapped his arms around him without hesitation, one hand moving slow, steady, across Eddie’s back in soothing circles. “Shh.” He whispered, voice cracking. “I’m not losin’ you over something like this, Eds. Not ever.. I’m not losing either of you.”

He turned slightly, lifting one arm out in a silent invitation.

Steve was on his feet just as quickly. He pressed into the embrace with enough force it sent the three of them stumbling back. But they continued to stand there, tangled in one another, holding on like they’d been shipwrecked and just found solid land again.

Steve closed his eyes.

He didn’t know how long they stood like that- maybe forever.

But for the first time since the world cracked open beneath their feet, they didn’t feel broken.

They felt home.

---

The kitchen was filled with the warm hum of life- the low rattle of pans, the soft pop of the stove. The rich scent of sizzling bacon and butter melting into a hot skillet.

Wayne moved like it was second nature, like nothing in the world had changed. As if he hadn’t just embraced his dead-not-dead nephew and the boy he once only knew from whispers around town. As if he hadn’t just accepted, with quiet grace, the boys he loved most were no longer human.

The special kettle clicked off behind him.

With practiced hands, he poured the thick crimson liquid into two ceramic mugs and turned, placing them gently in front of Eddie and Steve where they sat at the small kitchen table. He didn’t speak- he just offered a look, a small nod, and returned to the stove like it was any other morning.

Like it was one of the lazy, carefree mornings he spent making sure Steve slept through the night. Or one of the mornings he needed to make sure his new son ate, kept up with his thirst, because lord knows he’d starve himself if you let him.

Steam rose lazily from the mugs. Eddie held his in both hands like it was anchoring him to the moment. Steve sipped slowly, silently, the warmth settling in his chest like it was the first thing to truly thaw him in months.

Neither of them spoke. There weren’t words big enough for this kind of gratitude.

The eggs hit the plan with a soft sizzle. Wayne moved around the kitchen with the easy rhythm of a man who knew how to comfort in the quiet- bacon on one side, toast dropped in the old metal toaster with a heavy clunk, the coffee machine groaning to life behind him.

“I’m callin’ off work.” Wayne said after a few minutes had passed, his back still turned to them. Like he was just tossing out the thought between flipping strips of bacon. “Next few days, at least.”

Steve blinked. “Wayne, you don’t have to-”

Eddie jumped in. “Yeah, really you don’t- we don’t want to mess up your routine or-..”

Wayne turned around with a look that cut off the protests before they could gather steam.

“I ain’t askin’.” He said firmly. “I’ve got sick days and I’m usin’ them. End of discussion.”

“But-” Eddie started.

“I said end of discussion.” His voice was gruff, but not unkind. “You two come back from the damn dead- you think I’m gonna go muck about at the plant? Pretend the world didn’t just shift under my boots?” He huffed and turned back to the stove, muttering under his breath. Though he was well aware they’d both be able to hear him. “Got half a mind to take the rest of the month off…”

Steve smiled faintly into his mug.

Wayne sighed, softer now. “I want to hear everything.. I wanna know where you’ve been, what happened, how you made it back. What you need now, what we’re gonna do goin’ forward.” He paused. “If you want to tell me.”

Eddie reached out under the table and slid his fingers between Steve’s.

“We want to.” Steve said gently. “We will. Just… Might take some time.”

“I’ve got it.” Wayne said, voice steady. “As long as it takes.”

The toaster popped. The bacon hissed. Somewhere, beyond the windows, morning light began to bloom across the horizon.

They ate breakfast in a comfortable silence, the kind that came only with deep understanding and shared exhaustion. It wasn’t awkward or heavy- it was safe. The clinks of forks on plates, the low hum of the fridge, the creak of the old kitchen chairs as they occasionally shifted. It all wove together into something that felt like home.

Eddie leaned lightly into Steve’s shoulder, their knees brushing under the table. Steve was still nursing the last of his blood while Eddie chased down his scrambled eggs with toast, slow and thoughtful.

Across from them, Wayne sipped from his coffee mug. He watched them for a while, eyes soft but tired, but he was still trying to convince himself this was real. That they were real. That he wasn’t going to wake up and find it had all been a dream, cruel and bright at the edges.

Eventually, he set his mug down with a quiet clink and cleared his throat.

“I think…” He started, voice cautious, careful not to shatter the fragile peace they’d found again. “The most important question I got is.. Are you boys alright?” He looked between the two of them, gaze steady, worried. “I got a whole list building in my head. But that one’s first. That matters most. Are you alright, both of you?”

Eddie sighed, setting his fork down slowly.

Steve reached up, ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath like it had been sitting in his chest for hours, and maybe it had. “We’re.. We’re here.” He said softly. “We’re not okay, not really.. Not yet. But we’re alive, as much as we can be.. And we’re together so.. We’re getting there.”

Eddie nodded, swallowing hard. “We’re healing. Bit by bit.”

Wayne looked at them both like he was seeing them all over again for the first time. Then he gave a small, tight nod and leaned back in his chair, one hand running down his face.

“Alright.” He murmured, voice thick. “That’s good enough for me.”

They didn’t speak after that, not for a while.

But Wayne reached across the table and laid his hand over both of theirs, rough and steady. Steve squeezed back. Eddie didn’t let go.

And the warmth of that little kitchen, as the sun crept through the windows and settled on their faces, they all just… Sat. Breathing. Starting to heal.

Chapter 29: You're Home

Summary:

Wayne cleared his throat, voice rough. “You’re home now. That’s what matters.

Notes:

Just more of our boys being in love, being soft for one another. And the start of a much needed conversation.

Eventually, they had to convince Wayne to get some rest. He was reluctant, stubborn as ever, but the exhaustion tugging at his eyes betrayed him. They had wanted to tell him everything- but the man had just come off a night shift, and he’d already weathered enough emotional upheaval for ten lifetimes. The rest of it.. Could wait. At least a few hours.

They weren’t going anywhere.

So, with lingering hugs and the press of Wayne’s lips to each of their temples, he finally let go. Promising it would just be a brief nap. Just a couple of hours max. Promised he’d be back, and they believed him.

They watched him disappear into his own room before they turned into Eddie’s together. The door creaked softly behind them, only audible to their ears. The silence wrapped around them like a heavy quilt. The kind of quiet that settled when fear has passed but grief hasn’t. Wordlessly, they moved through the space- familiar but so very different.

Steve made sure the window was locked. Eddie tugged down the blankets. Neither said a word as they climbed into bed, pulling the blankets around them like a shield.

Steve curled against Eddie’s chest, his fingers twitching briefly as if unsure of what to do- what he was allowed to take. But Eddie just gathered him in without hesitation, arms wrapping around him with a quiet certainty.

One hand gently buried itself in Steve’s hair, as he combed through the strands with slow, blunt fingers. They didn’t say anything for a while. They didn’t need to. Content in the silence as they held onto one another, their breathing slowly coming into sync.

Steve’s hand clutched at Eddie’s shirt, knuckles pale against the black cotton. He didn’t dare utter anything aloud, he didn’t want to accidentally disturb Wayne. -I didn’t think we’d ever get this.- He brushed against the bond with Eddie. -You. Me.. Us.-

Eddie swallowed, jaw flexing against the wave of feelings swelling in his chest. ‘I didn’t either.’ He quietly admitted, pressing a soft silent kiss to the top of Steve’s head. ‘But we did. We made it.’

He let out a shuddering exhale, brushing his cheek against Eddie’s collarbone. Like he could disappear into him if he tried hard enough. -It still hurts.-

‘I know.’ The reply came cracked, quiet. As the hands kept up the gentle pressure through the soft mess of Steve’s hair. ‘It’s gonna.. For a long time I’d bet.’

They lay there, breathing in the same heavy air, the scents of Wayne, of Eddie, of Steve, Of home. Listening to the creaks of the old house and the quiet breaths from down the hall. And their bond thrumming between them- stronger now, tethered not by trauma but by choice. By love.

-I thought I’d lost you again.- Steve pushed through after a beat of silence.

Eddie’s hand stilled before slowly resuming its motion, like his brain had to catch up to the words. ‘You didn’t.’ Came his soft reply. ‘You never did. I was always trying to get back to you.’

Steve didn’t answer- not with words. Just shifted closer, if that was even possible, like he could sink into the warmth of Eddie’s barely there heartbeat and never leave again.

---

The room was filled with quiet warmth by the time they stirred again. The kind of stillness that only comes after sleep has dulled the sharp edges of grief. Sunlight was creeping in through the closed curtain, turning everything a soft golden haze.

Eddie was the first to blink awake, though he didn’t move much. He didn’t want to disturb the weight on his chest- the warmth of Steve wrapped around him like a second heartbeat. He just lay there, letting his hand drift slowly up and down the curve of Steve’s side, his thumb brushing over the jut of his hipbone through the soft cotton. The bond thrumming warmth between them.

Steve made a small, content sound, still half asleep, his fingers curling into the fabric of Eddie’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping him anchored.

Eventually, Steve stirred awake, lifting his head just enough to blink at Eddie with warm, sleepy eyes. Eddie gave him a smile, all soft and slow, like he couldn’t believe he got to wake up with him like this again.

He leaned in slowly, kissing him. It was lazy, sweet. The kind of kiss that didn’t need to lead anywhere, it wasn’t hungry or desperate- just quiet, unhurried affection passed back and forth between parted lips. They smiled into it, noses brushing, barely there breaths mingling in the still air.

As they kissed, Steve slowly shifted, climbing up and over Eddie’s lap, moving with care until he was straddling him. Their chests stayed pressed together, hearts in sync, but he made no move to deeper the kiss or pull away. He just stayed there, holding Eddie’s face between his hands. Brushing his thumbs along his cheeks like he was trying to memorize every freckle and scar.

Eddie didn’t question it. Didn’t ask for more. He just adjusted his hands to hold Steve’s waist, thumbs slipping under the hem of his shirt to rub gentle, grounding circles against the warm skin there.

Slowly he leaned back, letting his forehead rest against Eddie’s. “I just wanted to be closer.” He whispered, careful not to disturb the calming quiet.

Eddie smiled, giving a gentle squeeze to one of Steve’s hips. “You’re as close as it gets sweetheart.” He whispered back, voice low and full of something so tender it made Steve’s breath catch.

He only hummed in response, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned back in for another kiss. It was still slow, lazy- just the gentle press of lips, over and over, like they had all the time in the world to rediscover one another. No rush. No urgency. Just the quiet, unshakeable knowledge that they had each other now.

Eddie’s hands never left his waist, fingers tracing soft circles beneath the fabric of Steve’s shirt. His thumbs dipped lower now and then, dragging across the sharp lines of hipbones with feather light pressure.

He let his hands slip down, resting them on Eddie’s shoulders as their mouthed brushed again and again. It was addicting- the feeling of Eddie’s breath against his lips, the way he smiled into the kiss like it was instinct now.

They didn’t need to speak. They just kissed and held onto each other, fingers slipping through curls and brushing along spines. Every now and then, Steve would pull back just far enough to look at Eddie, their foreheads touching, never drifting away from one another.

It had been so long since either of them had known a peace like this. Since they’d been able to exist in stillness without fear scratching at the edges.

They didn’t need much sleep anymore, not like they used to. But that just meant they had more time like this now. More time together. More time to memorize the way they each breathed, or didn’t. More time to trace constellations across hips. More time to heal in the warmth of a shared bed and the hush of home.

So they kissed quietly in the soft morning light, hearts slowly mending with every press of lips and barely there touch. Waiting for Wayne to wake up, and knowing that when he did, they’d be ready to tell him everything.

Eventually.

But for now, they were still wrapped up in each other, lost in the hours that had slipped by unnoticed. The soft hush of the world, the house beyond Eddie’s new bedroom door had faded into something distant and unimportant. What mattered was here- Steve straddling Eddie’s lap, hands exploring over cotton, lips swollen from hours of slow, deep kisses.

They had gradually shifted from the soft sleepy kisses into something heavier. Not hurried, not desperate- just.. Full. Full of the ache they’d carried. Full of relief. Of want. Of the simple, staggering truth that they could just touch each other now without the fear of losing it all.

Eddie’s hands had slipped under Steve’s shirt a long time ago, fingers smoothing across warm skin. Steve’s nails had left faint trails up Eddie’s arms, claws occasionally making themselves known. They had at one point, stopped breathing. But neither of them had moved to take it any further. They weren’t rushing toward anything, just enjoying the moment.

Slowly Steve tilted his head, moving lower to mouth along Eddie’s jaw. With a low, shuddering gasp, Eddie suddenly pulled him closer. Leaning down until his lips brushed over Steve’s pulse point, his voice nothing but a murmur. “You smell too damn good, you know that?”

Steve only gave a breathless laugh, tangling his fingers into Eddie’s curls. “Then do something about it.” He teased.

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Eddie’s fangs slowly sank into the crook of Steve’s shoulder. He let out a sharp gasp- then moaned, low and sweet, the sound vibrating against Eddie’s mouth. His hands fisted tighter into Eddie’s hair, not to pull away but to pull him closer. To keep him right there, pressed together.

His hips involuntarily rolled, his eyes fluttering as he was unable to contain the soft, breathless sounds escaping his lips. They’d never done this before. How had they never done this before? The feeling was.. Indescribable. Pleasure coursed through him.

But it wasn’t about hunger.

It was about feeling- everything they couldn’t say, everything they’d lost and found again, bled into that bite. Into the press of lips and tongue, the sharp sting followed by the familiar warmth of connection as their bond pulsed with an eclectic intensity between them.

Eddie slowly pulled back, blood on his lips, eyes half lidded and burning with something raw, tender.

Steve leaned in again before either of them could speak, capturing Eddie’s lips with his own. Kissing him hard, deep, tasting the iron and the heat, the love they’ve yet to express. The one they never thought they’d get.

Their hands wandered, touching just to touch, to feel. To know the other was there. Shirts rucked up, fingers grazing ribs, thumbs slipping beneath waistbands and up again. But neither made a move to cross the line. They didn’t need to. This was enough. This was everything.

They were still kissing when they heard the faint sound of movement from down the hall.

The creak of a bed. The soft thump of a foot hitting the floor. A muffled groan as Wayne stirred awake, no doubt stiff from falling asleep fully clothed.

Steve stilled, his forehead resting against Eddie’s both of them flushed, smiling like idiots.

“Think we should go greet him like this?” Eddie whispered, his voice rough but teasing.

Steve gave a soft huff of laughter, nuzzling closer. “Let’s not traumatize your uncle too.”

Eddie grinned and kissed him once more- slower now, sweeter. Before finally letting Steve shift off his lap. They sat there for a moment, hands laced together, foreheads leaning against one another.

They’d be ready to tell Wayne everything.

But first, they’d fix their clothes. Maybe splash some water on their faces. Wipe the blood from Steve’s collar.

Then, they’d walk down the hall. Together. And start telling the truth. All of it.

---

In the end, they had to change altogether.

The scent of old laundry detergent and faded fabric comforted them in ways they didn’t expect. Soft, worn clothes Wayne had carefully folded and tucked away into Eddie’s dresser long ago, as if he’d always known they might be needed again.

Eddie tugged on a faded Black Sabbath sweatshirt, sleeves slightly frayed at the cuffs, and his favorite black jeans. Steve, on the other hand, threw on what he was given. Eddie’s favorite homemade Hellfire Club hoodie, it was soft with age, and oversized on him, the hem nearly to his thighs and sleeves drooping past his fingers like a kid playing dress up. He also slid on a pair of Eddie’s old sweats that pooled slightly at his ankles.

Eddie turned, jaw going slack for a moment. Before he gave a quiet, pleased exhale. ‘Shit, Stevie.. The way you look in my clothes.. The way you smell. If we didn’t have anything better to do I’d-’

Steve cut him off, cheeks already flushed. -Unfortunately, I don’t think Wayne’s gonna be as nice about it as Doc is if we destroy a bed…. Maybe later.- He added the last part shyly, almost a whisper, but his eyes held a teasing glint.

Eddie stopped in closer, voice dripping. ‘Yeah?’ He laced their fingers together, tugging him closer. ‘Don’t tempt me sweetheart.’

Steve gave a soft huff of laughter and leaned into the touch, letting Eddie press a kiss to the side of his neck before playfully pushing him away. “Downstairs. Before we tempt fate.”

“Alright, alright.” Eddie grinned, fangs and all. “But you owe me later.”

They made their way down slowly, mostly because Eddie couldn’t help himself from trailing his fingers along Steve’s hips and nipping gently at his ear whenever he got the chance. But Steve just rolled his eyes and laughed with it. Halfheartedly pushing him back each time.

The scent of something warm and familiar- of leftover breakfast and home, the hint of coffee too, it met them in the hall. Wayne was in the kitchen again, humming low under his breath, spatula in hand.

When he turned at the now audible sound of their footsteps, they didn’t want to scare him afterall, his eyes lit up like someone who realized a dream had actually come true. “Mornin’ boys. I’m makin’ lunch.” He said, voice rough but fond. When Steve stepped forward, clearly intending to help. Wayne quickly raised a hand, motioning him toward the chairs. “Nonsense son. Sit down. I can do it myself.”

“Yes, sir.” Steve replied automatically, cheeks flushing.

“I thought I told you, a while back now,” Wayne started, glancing over his shoulder with a look of amusement. “None o’ that ‘sir’ nonsense. It’s just Wayne.”

Steve ducked his head, smiling. “Yes si-.. Wayne.” He took the seat beside Eddie, their shoulders brushing as they instinctively leaned into one another like they were held together by gravity.

After a few moments, the click of a familiar kettle. A beat later, Wayne set a hot mug down in front of each of them. Blood, warm and fresh, spiced with a hint of cinnamon. Something Wayne accidentally did once, half asleep, and Steve found to love. He.. His heart clenched at the memory of it.

He glanced over at Eddie with a small smile, before taking a sip from his own mug. His eyes closing at the taste. “Thank you.” He mumbled out, pleased.

Wayne lingered at the stove a moment, then spoke again, his tone gentle but steady. “Now… I’d like you boys to tell me everything. But I know that’s askin’ a lot. So just… Whatever you’re comfortable with. In your own time. But, eventually.. I’d like to know it all.”

Steve stared down into his mug, the surface rippling slightly with the tremble of his fingers. He took a slow breath, trying to steel himself.

Eddie’s gaze didn’t move, fixed somewhere ahead- far away, far back. Steve reached out gently to take his hand.

“I..” Steve began unsteadily. “I don’t know much about what happened to Eddie and um we haven’t.. We haven’t really discussed much about me either but..” He was stalling, he knew that. “But I… I need to…”

His throat tightened. He shut his eyes and took another shaky breath. His voice now barely a whisper. “Wayne I-..” His voice cracked. “I have some… Trouble. Especially recently I… I can’t remember how I was found. Or taken. Or.. Or how long I was.. I just remember being.. There. That place. That.. Room.”

His fingers curled tighter around the mug, knuckles white.

Wayne crossed the room quickly, not hesitating for a second. He pulled Steve into a hug, warm and grounding. It was awkward- Steve still seated, Wayne standing. So Steve’s cheek ended up pressed against Wayne’s stomach, but that didn’t matter.

Wayne’s arms wrapped tight around his shoulder, solid and steady. Real.

“Oh son.” He whispered. “You don’t gotta force it. We’ll piece it together when you’re ready. You hear me? I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve didn’t answer right away. He just nodded, eyes burning, breathing slow and uneven against Wayne’s shirt.

Eddie turned his head slightly, his voice hoarse. “You… You stayed. You waited for us.”

Wayne reached one arm out to Eddie, drawing him in too, folding them both into a hug that shouldn’t have fit but somehow did.

“I’ll always wait for you boys… No matter what comes crawling out of the dark. No matter the version of you I get. Always.”

And for a long time, none of them said another word.

They didn’t need to.

---

They had moved to the living room after lunch, somewhere more fitting for the kind of stories that needed telling.

The couch had clearly seen better days, but the two of them sat close. Eddie’s arm draped lazily over Steve’s shoulder, his fingers occasionally shifting to brush strands of hair from his ear, tracing the curve slowly as he went.

Steve leaned into the touch, pressed against Eddie’s side, one hand resting on his knee, the other gently messing with a frayed thread on the leg of his jeans- something to do with his hands while he spoke.

Wayne sat across from them, elbows balanced on his knees, hands loosely clasped. He looked at them with the kind of care that didn’t waver, didn’t flinch, no matter how heavy the words became. His eyes didn’t miss a thing. He asked questions now and then, gentle, patient, never pushing too hard.

Steve’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but steady as it spilled out in pieces. Like shards of something once- whole being slowly laid on the table, one at a time.

“-But besides that, I don’t know.” Steve continued, voice frayed at the edges. “Or.. I don’t remember the beginning. It was just a..” His throat bobbed, jaw tightening. “Just an empty gray room.”

His words landed like something heavy, thick in the silence that followed.

Eddie’s fingers paused for a moment before they started moving again- this time to run gently down the nape of Steve’s neck.

Wayne sat back slightly, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles. His face was calm, but his eyes were stormy. “How long do you think they kept you there?”

Steve shook his head slowly, almost like he was afraid the motion would shake loose whatever fragile hold he still had. “I… I don’t know. There weren’t clocks in that room. No windows just.. Just walls and there was this- this humming. It was outside the room but it was.. Cold. Quiet. Sometimes I was alone and.. Sometimes I wasn’t.”

Eddie’s grip tightened at that, his thumb pressing into Steve’s shoulder like an anchor. Steve turned into him a little more, eyes glassy but he didn’t stop.

“They fed me… I think? Enough to keep me standing. I don’t.. Remember eating just.. Coming to, realizing I hadn’t really passed out yet.”

Wayne’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t speak.

“And the voices.” Steve continued. “Sometimes I’d hear them talking. Not- Not to me- about me. Like I was a… Subject. A test result.”

His voice dropped, nearly a whisper now. “Sometimes I think I wasn’t meant to come back.”

Eddie’s breath hitched, and before he could spiral any further, Eddie turned and kissed his temple, firm and grounding. “You did come back. You made it out sweetheart. You got us out.”

He let out a shaky breath, hand reaching to grip Eddie’s wrist, afraid if he let go he wouldn’t have the strength to continue.

Wayne cleared his throat, voice rough. “You’re home now. That’s what matters. However it happened. You’re home. You both are. And no one’s gonna take you away again.”

Steve nodded, eyes still locked on his own fingers.

But there was something in the way he exhaled- like letting go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding for weeks. Maybe months.

Eddie leaned his forehead against the side of Steve’s head, speaking so only he could hear. “I’ve got you. Every second you need, every memory you can’t remember. I’ve got you.”

Wayne didn’t look away as he watched them, but his voice was softer now. “Do you want ta’ take a break son? You don’t have to say it all at once.”

He gave the smallest shake of his head. “No. No I.. I want you to know. I want you to understand. I need to.. I haven’t even started.”

Wayne nodded slowly, voice gruff with feeling. “Then I’m right here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” And he meant it. He meant it with every scar he’d carried, every day he’d left the porch light on.

Steve rubbed at his eyes as they burned, trying to prevent the tears from falling. But they were stubborn things. “I… I tried to escape. A couple-” his voice cracked, forcing him to swallow it back. “-a couple times. I… I had to..”

His breath hitched again, shaky, raw. The words were hard to say. Harder even to admit. They felt heavy in his chest like they might shatter something if he let them out.

Eddie shifted beside him, voice steady and low, but burning with conviction. “I killed about a dozen men when they tried- when they brought me in. Even more once I was inside. Until they finally figured out how to restrain me.”

Steve turned his head, meeting Eddie’s eyes. That familiar glint of rage and grief swirled in the dark, but it was Eddie’s hand in his that grounded him. Strong. Steady. Unshaken. He squeezed it in quiet thanks, pulling strength from the contact.

“I killed them..” Steve whispered, eyes dropping to his lap, his voice barely audible. “The guards. I didn’t mean to- not at first. I just.. I just needed to.. To get out. To come home.. I didn’t even realize what I had done until it was over. It wasn’t about revenge or. Or hate I just-” He drew in a breath that sounded like it scraped against his ribs. “I just wanted the pain to stop and to- to live. To see you again.”

Wayne was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. And then he stood.

He flinched, just slightly, bracing for something he didn’t even have words for.

But all Wayne did was walk across the room.

He crouched in front of them, a weathered hand reaching to rest gently over Steve’s knee. His voice, when it came, was thick, and so sure it felt like it could carry all three of them if it had to. “You did what you had to, son.” He said softly. “Both o’ you. You were kidnapped. Hurt. Hunted. And you survived. I ain’t ever gonna hold that against you.”

Steve blinked fast, his lower lip trembling, and Eddie rubbed a low, soothing hand across his back.

Wayne continued, “I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to hear it. Clearly. To understand me… Nothing- and I mean nothing, you tell me is going to change how much I care about you boys. Not now. Not ever. You could sit here and tell me you burned the world to the ground, or the only way you were able to survive was because you slaughtered a whole town. I’d still be here, listening.”

Steve looked at him, really looked. And the tears finally slipped past his defenses, tracking silently down his cheeks.

Wayne didn’t move, just gave his knee a squeeze. “You came home. You both came home. That’s all that matters to me… You came home.”

Steve dropped his head, a choked sound falling from his throat as he tried to nod.

Eddie leaned in, his forehead pressing to Steve’s temple, arms wrapping more tightly around him. “You hear that sweetheart?” He whispered. “We came home.”

He let himself cry then, no longer fighting it. Not in front of Eddie. Not in front of Wayne. Not here, where he was safe.

Where he was loved.

Wayne stood again, only long enough to pull them both up and into his arms. It was clumsy, awkward, their positions tangled- but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was the warmth. The weight of it. The way Wayne’s hands stayed firm on their shoulders, grounding them with every ounce of steady love he had left to give.

“You’re my boys.” Wayne said quietly, fiercely. “Both of you. You come back from hell, I’ll open the door every damn time. No matter what either of you do. You’ll always be welcomed home.”

And in that moment, in that small, quiet room, with grief and blood and history thick in the air- Steve believed it. Believed they were more than what had been done to them. Believed they could still have this.

A home.

A family.

Each other.

---

It took a long time before they were willing to separate.

But eventually they managed to peel themselves apart. Just enough to sit up straighter, to breathe without gasping against each other’s skin.

After a while Wayne had disappeared for a moment, only to return with beers, placing one into each of their hands with a quiet, wordless gesture of comfort. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

They moved back to how they were. But now Steve was staring into a beer, elbows on his knees, bottle resting between his hands like it held the answers to every question he couldn’t find the strength to ask.

He cleared his throat. Voice steadier now, but thin, fragile at the edges. “I still don’t have a lot of memories of them but- but I do know.. Eventually they moved me to a real room. Said it was for good behavior.”

His thumb swept absently over the label, fingers twitching with a memory that pushed at the back of his mind. “Said if I didn’t behave, I’d go to… There was a room. A specific room they used for- for punishments.”

The air in the room shifted. Eddie went still beside him, his hand tightening around Steve’s upper thigh.

He drew in a long breath, then closed his eyes, voice lowering back to a whisper. “It was small. So small. I couldn’t stretch out my legs. I couldn’t stand up. My knees.. My knees were pulled to my chest for hours- sometimes days. And the walls… The walls were right there, right at my sides. There wasn’t even space for me to turn my head. And I.. I didn’t have the strength to break free. Not after-”

He exhaled shakily, voice fraying. “It was dark.. So dark. Cold. Quiet. And not just the kind of quiet where.. Where I’m just hearing someone down the hall or.. Or my own breathing. It was silent. Like… It was the kind that makes you wonder if- if maybe you died and didn’t notice. The walls were thick. Made of cement and metal and.. And somehow I couldn't hear anything.”

His hand tightened around the bottle trying to ground himself with the cold glass. Then he slowly leaned into Eddie’s side, forehead resting against his shoulder.

Eddie didn’t move. He just curled his arm around him, steady and solid.

He kept going. He needed to. “Sometimes.. The walls would turn electric. I don’t.. Don’t know how. I think they were lined with something, and they’d just… Pulse. Burn. I could feel it in my bones. Every inch of me would seize up like I’d been struck by lightning. It.. It would hurt so much.”

His voice broke.

“And sometimes… Sometimes they’d fill the room with this. This smoke, or.. Fog? I don’t know what it was. It hissed as it came in, like something alive. It would fill the room. And I didn't want them to know. I didn’t need to breathe anymore. I didn’t.. I didn’t want them to know anything about me.”

He was shaking again, small trembles rippling through his shoulders.

“So I.. Breathed it in. I forced myself to breathe it in.” His voice cracked on the words, raw and full of regret. “It. It would burn and it.. Felt like razors. Like poison and glass and acid all at once. I’d choke. My lungs would seize and I’d forget that I didn’t need the air… I’d vomit sometimes too, all over myself. And then I’d breathe it all back in again.”

He went quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was hollow, stunned by its own memories.

“Sometimes it was worse. Sometimes.. I knew I was screaming, but I couldn’t hear it. I’d open my mouth and feel my throat tearing.. But the only thing I could hear was that fog, that goddamn hiss.”

His breath hitched.

“And sometimes… Sometimes it was like I’d been frozen from the inside out. Like there wasn’t- wasn’t a single part of me that felt alive anymore. Just cold and pain and silence. And.. And I knew if I didn’t play along.. I’d be right back in there. I didn’t.. I couldn’t..”

He shook his head and brought the bottle to his lips, drinking like it could wash the memory from his tongue. His hand was trembling so badly he nearly spilled it.

“I didn’t want to go back there so.. I was good after a while.” His voice was low now, and distant. “Did what they asked. But only the bare minimum. Enough.. Enough to keep them guessing, keep them interested. So they wouldn’t learn ways to break me.. Until..-” He didn’t continue, he couldn’t.

Wayne had moved before Steve could process it.

He crouched down in front of him again, both hands gently grasping Steve’s shaking ones around the bottle.

“You hear me, son?” Wayne’s voice was rough, eyes glassy with the weight of what he’d just heard. “You’re not broken. Not even close. You’re strong. Stronger than anything they did to you. You survived it, and you came back. And there’s not one damn thing in this world I respect more than that.”

Steve’s chin trembled as he looked down at him.

“And if I could take it away,” Wayne added, voice catching. “If I could crawl back into that place and carry even an ounce of that hurt for you, I would. I’d do it a hundred times over.. For the both of you.”

A quiet sob escaped Steve’s throat.

Eddie set his bottle aside and wrapped both arms around him, pulling him fully into his lap, holding him as tight as he could without hurting him.

And Steve let himself be held. Let himself cry again, held against Eddie’s chest.

And Wayne stayed right there, hands still covering his.

He sucked in a shaky tear filled breath and quietly broke out. “I.. I was good. I was.. Good. Until-.. Until they showed me Eddie.”

His shoulders shook, trembling harder now, as another sob ripped its way up from his chest. It was the kind of sound that came from somewhere buried deep, raw and bruised and full of memories no one should ever have to carry.

Eddie pulled him closer, like he could shield Steve from every echo of that room, every lash of pain still clinging to his ribs. “I’m here.” Eddie whispered fiercely, voice cracking at the edges. “I’m here sweetheart. I’m right here.”

Steve clung to him like a lifeline, turning to fist his fingers in the back of Eddie’s shirt. Suddenly he froze, his eyes wide as tears streamed down his cheeks. Like he was seeing something that wasn’t there. His breath stuttered, his teeth clinking together as his jaw trembled.

“They… They showed me.” He choked out, the words hitching as he spoke them. A memory forgotten, one he knew was real, he remembered it too clearly. “I remember now they.. They showed me a video and you were.. Screaming.” He leaned forward, his head resting on the edge of Eddie’s shoulder. “Said.. They said they’d kill you if I didn’t.. Obey. Said they’d let me hear it live next time. Said.. They’d make me watch.”

Eddie went rigid.

Wayne let out a low, strangled sound from where he was still kneeling beside him, one hand bracing himself against the couch like he’d just taken a hit to the chest.

“They told me you were dying because of me.” He whispered, eyes clenched shut, afraid of his own memories. “That you were already gone. That we left you there and.. That it was my fault.”

Eddie’s hand moved to cradle the back of Steve’s head, holding him tighter. His own face was wet now, tears slipping silently down as he pressed his lips to Steve’s hair.

“They broke me that.. That day.” He continued. “I think I.. I just stopped really fighting. I stopped thinking too much. I just.. I did what they wanted. I didn’t want them to show me again. I didn’t.. I didn’t know if it was real or not. And I.. I didn’t.. I couldn’t..-”

“I’m so sorry.” Eddie whispered hoarsely, rocking him gently. “I’m so sorry baby. I should’ve pushed at the bond harder. I should’ve-”

“No.” Steve said, weak but firm. He pulled back just enough to look at him, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Eddie’s. “I would’a just thought it a trick. I would’ve.. I thought you were dead. Like you’d somehow survived the Upside Down just to die by their hands or.. I thought.. It was my fault.”

Eddie looked like he was going to fall apart, to shatter. But he held it in. For Steve.

Wayne stood then, slowly, like he was afraid any movement might shatter the fragile moment holding them together. He slowly took a seat next to them on the couch and gently, gently placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“I want you to hear me again, son.” He said softly, “There’s nothing in this world that could make me love you boys less. You didn’t do anythin’ wrong. They tried to break you, and they failed. Because you’re here. And they didn’t win.”

Steve blinked rapidly, swallowing hard as more tears streamed down his cheeks. “I thought I’d never see anyone again. I thought… I thought if I ever saw light, real light, again. I’d be someone else. I didn’t think I’d still be me.”

Eddie leaned in, brushing his lips gently against Steve’s temple. “You’re still you.” He said, his voice thick and sure. “You’re still my Stevie. Every brave, beautiful part of you is still here.”

Steve curled into him again, exhausted, eyes fluttering closed against the weight of it all.

Wayne gave Eddie a soft nod, eyes glistening.

And in the quiet that followed, the only sound was their breathing- slow, steady, safe.

Chapter 30: Oh.. Boys.

Summary:

Wayne watched them with an aching softness, realization hitting him like a truck. They didn’t know.

Notes:

There's no sex in this chapter but there is an intimate blood drinking scene.

Steve heard their quiet whispers before he really came to- Wayne’s low rumble, Eddie’s gentle cadence threading softly through his haze.

He was still resting against Eddie’s shoulder, though his head had been shifted just slightly, moved into a more comfortable position. Eddie hadn’t let go. His arms were still wrapped around him just as tightly, like he was afraid if he let go, Steve would disappear.

“-and he’d ripped out the guard’s throat. He crushed the skull of the other.. With a gun… Just to get to me.” Eddie’s voice was a whisper, reverent and rough, not laced with horror but something deeper. Almost in awe. Like disbelief that hadn’t quite settled.

Wayne hummed from across the room, back in his chair but perched forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on the two of them. “The way you two look at each other.. Eds, I’d bet every last cent I’ve got that he’d do a hell of a lot more if he had to.”

“He did..” Eddie murmured, his hand still moving in soft, calming circles against Steve’s back. “Wayne, he… Something happened in there.. Steve told me about their superpowered kid.. Eleven? He said, you’d met her?”

“Yes?” Wayne answered slowly, confused.

“It was.. Something like that. Like what he’d explained to me. Like her powers except.. It wasn’t her. It came from him.” Eddie exhaled, like the memory was still too raw. “They were coming at me.. Again, with a new muzzle and he just.. He screamed. And then..”

His voice caught, like the image behind his eyes was too vivid.

“I don’t know how to describe it, and I’ve.. Being at a loss for words isn’t really my thing but.. I’ve never seen anything like it and that’s- I know he told you about C.. Chrissy but..” He shook his head. “Guards suddenly just went.. Flying. Some of them slammed into the walls so hard the concrete cracked. Bones.. Bones snapped like twigs. One guy… His chest just caved in. And some of them. Wayne- some of them just.. Exploded? I don’t know. It was chaos. But when he was finished there was.. There was blood and gore and just.. People. Everywhere.”

He sucked in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. “There wasn’t time to process it or be scared.. I just… He did it for me.”

Wayne didn’t react, didn’t flinch. His voice when he spoke was firm, final, unbothered. “He protected you.”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded slowly, eyes dropping to Steve, his thumb sweeping over the nape of his neck. “Yeah, he did. And.. Wayne I.. I didn’t know about that room or. Or the video. I didn’t know he could do that either.”

Wayne’s voice cut in, gravel soft. “Maybe he’s always had that in him. Maybe he hasn’t. Maybe he just needed a good reason to unleash it all, I don’t know. Either way, I do know he did it all to protect you Eds. That boy would tear the world down to the nails if it meant keeping you safe. And I’ve only been watchin’ you two for a few hours. Can’t imagine what he’d do for you years from now.”

Eddie stilled, hand resting between Steve’s shoulders. “Yeah.. Yeah, he would. And I would too. I’d go through it all over again if I had to. Every cage. Every muzzle. Every day in that goddamn place. If it meant we’d end up here.”

Wayne didn’t speak right away. Just nodded, quiet and steady, like he understood something sacred had been said. Like he knew the weight of that kind of love and what it cost to carry it.

The silence stretched for a moment, it was uncomfortable.

Steve shifted slightly in Eddie’s lap, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder. Savoring the warmth. He let out a breath, long and uneven, as if some final wall had finally fallen away inside him.

His voice, when it came, was quiet and raw. “You don’t have to say that y’know.”

Eddie shifted, moving them both so he could look at Steve, confused. “Huh? Say what?”

“That you’d go through it all again.” He looked down at his hands, fingers still curled around the hem of Eddie’s shirt. “It was hell, Eds. For both of us. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to forget it all. If you hated what it made us.”

Eddie was quiet for a few minutes, before he gently reached up, guiding Steve’s face so their eyes met. “I do hate what it did to us. But I don’t regret what we did to survive. Because surviving it means we get to have this.” His voice lowered. “Means I get to have you.”

Steve blinked hard, eyes burning again, but this time he didn’t turn away. Didn’t bury it. He let it happen. “You saved me.” He whispered. “You’re the only reason I remembered who I was. You-.. God, Eds, you held on to me when I couldn’t even hold onto myself.”

Eddie leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, his voice barely a breath. “You did the same for me baby. I was almost gone when I saw you again. But you.. You pulled me back.”

A sound caught in Steve’s throat- not quite a sob, not quite a laugh. Something in between. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing even closer like he could fold himself into Eddie’s chest.

Wayne shifted a little in his chair, but didn’t speak. He just watched them quietly, eyes glinting with something fierce and proud and utterly unshaken.

Eddie spoke again, voice rough. “They wanted to make us into monsters. Experiments.. But we came out on the other side, and we’ve got each other. That’s gotta mean something.”

“It does.” Steve’s voice came out muffled through Eddie’s shirt. “It means everything.”

Wayne finally cleared his throat. “Y’know, I’ve seen a lot of things in my life. War. Grief. Boys trying to turn themselves ta’ stone so they don’t feel anythin’ anymore.” He looked between them, gaze steady, soft. “But I ain’t ever seen anyone survive anything like what you’ve told me and still come out lovin’ like this. That’s something special. That’s strong.”

Steve looked over at him, tears still tracking quietly down his face. “It doesn’t feel strong. Feels like.. Like I just keep falling apart.”

Wayne gave him a soft, tired smile. “That’s ‘cause strength ain’t loud. Most days it’s just.. Staying. Staying with the people who matter. Choosin’ love when it’s easier to shut the world out. You’re strong, both o’ you. Whether you believe it or not.”

Steve leaned back into Eddie, lips brushing his jaws. “I want to try. I want to.. To be more than what they tried to make me.”

“You already are.” Eddie said firmly.

“..Okay.” He answered quietly, eyes closing again, body soft and heavy against Eddie’s. Safe. Finally safe.

After a long moment Wayne stood, stretching his back with a quiet grunt. “I’ll give you boys some space. If you need anything, well.. You’ll know where I am.”

As he walked down the hall, Eddie held Steve tighter. “We’re gonna be okay.” He whispered. “We’ll heal. Even if it’s slow. Even if it hurts. We’ll get there.”

And in the quiet that followed, wrapped in each other’s arms and the warm stillness of the scent of home, Steve believed him.

---

Sometime later, after two more cups of blood and a quiet dinner, they ended up back on the couches. The house was dim now, golden light slipping through the kitchen, casting long shadows on the floor.

Steve sat pressed tightly against Eddie, who had an arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders. His fingers would occasionally drift, rubbing at Steve’s upper arm or threading lightly though his hair. Across from them, Wayne sat in his armchair again, his elbows on his knees, quiet and waiting.

Steve stared at his hands in his lap. The silence felt heavy, but not yet suffocating. It gave him space. Gave him a choice.

He couldn’t keep breaking down.

He had to do this. To say it.

Even if his voice shook. Even if it broke him open again.

But he had no idea where to start. Where to even begin to admit the horrors that were done to him. So.. The middle. The middle had to be safe.

He drew in a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves with the familiar feeling. He tried to give Wayne a smile, but it was weak. “I need to tell you.”

Wayne’s voice was gravel soft. “Take your time son. We can do this tomorrow if it feels like too much.”

Steve shook his head. “I know I can take my time. I know I don’t have to tell it all right now. I know that.” His voice cracked slightly, but he forced himself to keep going. “But I.. I’m scared. I’m scared that if I don’t say it now, I might not be able to remember it again and.. And I want you to know. I want you to know.” He turned to Eddie. “And you too Wayne.”

Eddie’s hand tightened around his arm, grounding him without a word.

“I… I don’t know where to start so I..” He pulled himself upright, spine straightening like he could keep himself from falling apart if he just held it together long enough. “One day, they brought me to this lab. It looked like the others, sterile and cold, but worse. More.. More tools. More needles. More.. It looked like something out of a horror movie in there.”

His fingers twitched, stretching out and curling. Trying to quell the urge to release his claws. “I stripped down.. By that point, I knew if I didn’t do it they’d just, rip the ‘clothes’ off or…” He swallowed. “Anyway. This time, they made me take everything off, not that there was much. The hospital gown and.. The underwear too. I thought it was just for more samples but..”

Eddie’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t speak, just kept his palm a steady pressure against Steve.

He curled and stretched his fingers several times in rapid succession. “They strapped me down. Not like.. Not like before. These cuffs were.. Thick. Heavy. Metal so cold it burned. My wrists. My ankles. Even across my forehead… I couldn’t.. I..” He closed his eyes, and let his claws finally come out, though his hands were shaking now. “I couldn’t move.. Couldn’t turn my head. Couldn’t….” In a weak whisper he adds. “Couldn’t even close my eyes once they peeled them open.”

Wayne let out a quiet breath, like he was trying to hold back a sound he didn’t want Steve to hear. His hands were white-knuckled, gripping the arm of his chair.

Steve slowly pulled back his claws, taking another deep breath. “They wheeled in a cart. Hooked me up to wires. Pads. Dozens of leads and sensors. I remember seeing all the different monitors in the corner when I came in. My heart rate. My brain waves. Blood pressure. Like they were waiting for something. Watching.”

He paused. The air felt too heavy to breathe.

“At first there were maybe a dozen scientists in the room. Just.. Waiting. Watching. Writing on their stupid fucking clipboards. Then.. Then she walked in.”

He opened his eyes again, like he was trying to run from the memory. His voice dropped low. “The same woman from the stairwell.”

Eddie went still.

“She came over with this large syringe. And the stuff inside-” He shook his head, staring back down at his hands. Letting his claws come out before withdrawing them. Giving himself a moment before continuing. “Whatever was inside it.. It looked green. Except. Except it wasn’t. It wasn’t just green there was something in it and it.. It looked like fire. Like something alive. Like it reflected fire within itself when she held it up to the light, because of course she did, she wanted me to see it. And I don’t know what it was.. I still don’t.”

His brows furrowed as he tried to think about it. After a moment he shook his head, moving on. “She had them hold me down, tighter than they needed to. To make sure I didn’t try and jerk away. Not that I could. But she.. She didn’t even hesitate. Just stuck it into my arm like I was a piece of meat. And it hurt.”

He grimaced letting his claws out before quickly pulling them back in again. “It was like.. I can’t even begin to describe the pain beside saying it burned. It felt like it was trying to rip through my veins. Like it was trying to change me except.. Except it.. Didn’t? And it was somehow.. Thick.”

Eddie’s hand moved to the back of Steve’s head, fingers buried into his hair. He opened his mouth, like he wanted to whisper something only Steve could hear, but he didn’t. He couldn’t get the words out. Wayne had one hand over his mouth, unmoving, watching with shining eyes.

“At the same time.. They put something on my head. Straps. Metal. I don’t.. I don’t know what it was. But it was uncomfortable. And then- God, the fire. Not real fire, but it felt like it. Worse than when I.. Changed. Worse than anything I’d ever felt. Like suddenly, every nerve in my body was screaming. Then.. Then they put.. I think it was a leather strap? They put it in my mouth, had me bite it and..”

He curled inward slightly, folding his arms across his chest as he took in several deep breaths before continuing. “I remember trying to get off the table, my back arching but I could hardly even do that. It felt.. I think..” He tightened his grip against his arms. “I think I died… I think I died or just.. Stopped for a moment. Everything just.. I mean technically I’m dead so I don’t know but.. Everything just went blank. And I thought.. Maybe that was it. That I was.. That I was free.”

He shook his head again, like he could push through the fog of memory. “I just remember not feeling it for a few seconds and thinking that was it.. That I’d finally escape it. Escape them. But no.. I just.. I woke up. Still tired down and.. And they did it again.”

Eddie whispered, “Jesus, Steve…” His voice thick with something he didn’t want to think about.

He slowly unfolded his arm, looking down at his hands. “I lost track of how many times it happened. They did it again, and again. Until I couldn’t scream anymore. Until my voice went out. Until that leather strap between my teeth was ruined.”

He glanced up at Wayne, eyes red. “Then.. One of the times I woke up. I don’t know it could have been the fifth or the fiftieth… They started asking questions. Over and over. Who I was. Where I was from. If I knew the date, my birthday, my name. Things like that and I.. I knew them at first. But I don’t know, I just… Eventually, I just didn’t. I couldn’t remember some of the answers.”

His next breath was shaky. “They rewrote me. Or they.. They tried to. They played these… I don’t know, maybe it was projections, maybe I was dreaming, maybe it was just all in my head… I don’t know. I just remember waking up at one point but I don’t think- I don’t think I really did. But I don’t think I was dreaming either. I was back at Family Video, working a shift. Robin was there too and.. You, Eddie, you walked in. But it wasn’t you. You were.. Wrong. Like they used your face and made you say things but it wasn’t.. It was wrong.”

His voice cracked. He looked back down at his hands, letting his claws come in and out in rapid succession. “They.. You and Robin. They started talking at me. Not to me. Told me things about myself like they were facts. But it was wrong, lies, just.. After a while.. After.. I don’t know how long. I.. I started to believe some of them. I didn’t know what was real anymore.”

His hands shook as he curled his fingers. “Every time I thought I was waking up, I wasn’t. Every time I thought I was safe, I wasn’t. It just kept.. Looping. Again and again… Started telling me, like it was a fact, who I was. Who they wanted me to be and I just..” He let his hand scrub down his face. “I don’t know how many times it happened. Or how long I was in that lab.”

He suddenly collapsed back against Eddie, breathing ragged. “I forgot the lab… When I got back to my room. I didn’t.. I didn’t remember any of it. I just.. Couldn’t remember it. Not for.. Not for a few weeks, at least. But it was in there.” He raps on his head. “Hiding.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re not there anymore.”

“I know.” Steve’s voice was a whisper. “But it’s still in me. I still… I still have trouble remembering it.” He weakly admitted.

Wayne leaned forward, voice hoarse. “Son… I don’t have the right words for that. I wish I did. But I want you to know, I’m so damn proud of you for tellin’ us.”

Steve nodded weakly, resting against Eddie’s chest.

There was a long, quiet pause.

And then, softly, Steve spoke again.

“There was… One more thing.”

Eddie went still, rigid behind him.

“I didn’t remember it until.. Just now.” He swallowed letting his claws slowly come out before withdrawing, comforting. “But after that first time… When I was still on the table…” He looked down, away from either of them. “They brought in someone else.”

Wayne sat up straighter, his head jerking up. “Someone else?”

He nodded. His voice was so small, it barely existed. “A kid. Young. Maybe.. Maybe fifteen?.. Human. They.. They strapped him down too but he.. He didn’t seem to be fighting more.. Resigned? Like.. Like he signed up for it? I don’t know.”

He shook his head. “They put him in the room with me.” He continued quietly. “They.. They made me watch.”

Eddie’s breathing stopped. “What um.. What did they-?”

“They did..” He interrupted. “They did almost the same thing they.. They injected him with the same thick liquid but.. Nothing else. It was.. He didn’t make it.” His hands were trembling now. “He died screaming and.. And they didn’t even blink. They just took notes. Fucking notes! And wheeled him out like trash.”

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

“I didn’t know who he was. I still.. Still don’t.”

Wayne stood slowly. Crossing the room. And with infinite care, he crouched in front of Steve and placed a hand over his shaking ones. “None of that is your fault son.” His brows furrowed as Steve opened his mouth. “None. Of. It.”

He nodded gently as Eddie pulled him tighter into his arms, holding on like he’d never let go.

---

They took a few moments to gather themselves. It was quiet, but because they didn’t have more to say, but because the weight of what had been shared needed space. The silence was no longer heavy with things unsaid, but a calm, quiet, peaceful breath. And Steve could feel it- how everything he’d carried in his chest, all that bruised and splintered ache, was just a little lighter now.

Eddie’s arm stayed wrapped around him, grounding. Every so often he’d press a kiss to the crown of Steve’s head, no words needed. Just warmth. Just a presence. And Steve let himself melt into it.

After a while, Wayne shifted in his chair, the leather creaking quietly under his weight. When he spoke, his voice was soft, steady. “Eds told me a bit about your escape, amongst other things. While you were asleep. You mentioned help but I don’t.. Do you know who?”

Steve slowly pulled back from Eddie’s chest, just enough to meet his eyes. Something unspoked passed between them- a question, an offering, and then permission. Eddie’s pulse against the bond was steady, warm. Only if you want to, it seemed to say.

Steve gave a small nod and curled back in, resting his head against Eddie’s shoulder. “Yeah.. Yeah we.. We do.”

Wayne watched them patiently, eyes kind but quietly alert. Waiting.

“There was… During the last lab I was taken to.. It was.. It was a bad one, Wayne. They..” He began, voice already hitching with the memory. “They had me hooked up to something- I don’t know what. I wasn’t awake, not really. I was.. Stuck in a dream? Or in something like one. I couldn’t move. But then I heard this, this alarm. Containment breach. And someone calling my name.”

He reached over, taking Eddie’s free hand for comfort. Letting himself play with his fingers. “I woke up, kind of. Not really awake- my body was just.. I felt like lead. I couldn’t move, not just from the restraints but whatever drug they gave me. But there was this.. This man, standing over me. I thought he was one of them. Another one of the scientists who wanted to hurt me. And I thought- I thought he was going to kill me.”

He quietly admitted, Eddie’s body tensing behind him. Steve immediately lifted his hand to kiss his palm. “He was talking to me, telling me he’d let the demogorgon out- let them loose to cause chaos so no one would notice what he was doing. How he was.. He was so sorry. He.. He gave me instructions, a keycard, a passcode. Told me where to find Eddie. Told me how to get to the vent. How to.. How to escape. He left us a map. Gave me instructions.”

Wayne leaned forward slightly, brows furrowed. “A vent?” He asked quietly. “Eds told me a bit but I think he skipped over that.”

“Yeah, figured he would’ve skipped that part.” Steve gave a small, breathless laugh. “It was.. It was hell. But at least we weren’t being shot at.” He shook his head.

“We had to climb this air vent. It was big enough but only just. It was tight, especially on our shoulders. And we had to use our claws to pull ourselves up through it. Climbing floor after floor, inch after inch, with barely any room to move. Eddie in my sweater- remind me to tell you about that later. And it.. God it was so hot in there. I was sweating buckets, we both were.”

He gave a sheepish smile as he continued. “I made Eds go first which, good thing I did. Had to catch him when he fell.”

Eddie groaned behind him. “I fell like.. Twice. Metal walls and sweaty palms. Not my fault.”

“Sure, sure.” Steve teased, voice lighter now. “I know, big bad vampire, conquered the vent of doom. Nearly died from heatstroke doing it.”

Wayne let out a quiet snort.

“Anyway um.. We had to go up several floors. And we came out on sub level nine, we needed to get to level… Six. Not sub level six… Level six.” He nodded as Wayne let out a low whistle, but otherwise stayed quiet. “The uh.. The man left a map not too far from the vent. So we followed it, booked it toward the stairs.”

Wayne nodded, more to himself than Steve. “Where you were very badass and used your claws to rip open the lock.” He looked at Eddie, an eyebrow raised, before glancing back at Steve. “At least that’s what I was told.”

He grinned, letting out a quiet laugh. “Yeah.. That part was kinda cool. Pretty badass.” He let his finger trail circular patterns into the palm of Eddie’s hand.

“Anyway um.. After the stairs where.. I heard Eddie tell you about what happened so I’ll just.. Skip over that.” His lips tightened, his smile faltering. He let a single claw come out, tracing Eddie’s palm lightly with it. “We came out into a parking garage. Ran like hell out of there as they shot at us.”

“You yanked me onto the hood of a car… Was pretty metal actually. That bullet would’a taken me out if it wasn’t for you.” Eddie interrupted, smiling down at Steve. Like he could joke about it, now that it was over.

“Yeah.. Yeah it was totally metal.” Steve beamed, Wayne smiling at the both of them. “So we got out of that parking garage and just kept running straight. Didn’t slow down until we were deep in the woods. The man’s directions said straight and uh.. Well, skipping over the boring bits..”

“Nothin’ about your escape is boring.” He heard Wayne mutter as he continued.

“We hid for, I don’t know, a few hours? Until we heard a van coming down the road. It was.. He promised to find us, and he did.” He nodded to himself before muttering, just loud enough for it to be heard. “Old man, with a limp, and a name too hard to say.”

The change in Wayne was immediate. He sat up straighter, breath caught. “What did you just say?”

“Hmm?” Steve frowned, looking up from Eddie’s hand. “The old man, the one who helped us. He has a limp and a name he said is too much of a mouthful to say. He said we can call him Richard but we call him Doc. On account of him saying he’s an actual doctor and all that.”

“Never did check his credentials.” Eddie jokes.

Wayne’s eyes went wide, then glassy. His voice dropped to something raw. “He found you.. He actually.. I can’t believe he actually..”

Steve and Eddie sat up fully now, alarm creeping in. He let his claws retreat as he dropped Eddie’s hand. “Wayne?” Steve asked. “Are you okay?” He glanced at Eddie, who shook his head, just as confused.

“I-” Wayne started, then slumped backwards. “After you disappeared after.. After I found your room like.. That.” He shook his head at the memory. “I didn’t stop looking. I knew that someone had to have known about you, that someone took you. I didn’t.. I didn’ want to lose you too.”

“I tried everything. Everyone. Went to Jim- Hopper. Begged his girl to look for you. The feds. Even risked knockin’ on the doors of those black-suited bastards. No one knew anything. No one would tell me anything. There was.. Nothing. No sign o’ you. You were just.. Gone.” His voice cracked on the last word.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Then I.. I remembered him. One of my buddies as Eds calls ‘em. We served together. Remembered what he told me the last time we talked.” He shook his head. “Not important right now but.. He said if I ever needed help.. Real help. To reach out. So I did. I’m sorry, I know I promised not to say anythin’ but.. I had to tell him about you.”

He took a moment to compose himself before continuing. “Told him about you, about what I found, what I knew. And he said he’d look into it. Told me he’d let me know if he found anything. Even a whisper. But he warned me, it might take time. And I was willin’ to wait. As long as it took.”

He let out a slow breath. “Finally, he came back one day sayin’ he heard rumors of something like you. But that it might take longer to figure out. New job assignment and all that. Deep cover. Lots o’ red tape, all types of hush hush. Couldn’t promise anythin’ except that he wouldn’t give up on helpin’ me.”

Wayne dragged a hand over his face. “An’ then one day. ‘Bout a year ago.. I get this message, a letter. Just one line, nothin’ else. ‘Think I might have found your boy’. Next thing I know, he’s calling me one day, hasn’t done that in ages, just letters since the job started. But he’s askin’ me for my work schedule. Saying something ‘bout he’s long overdue for a visit. Didn’t think anything of it, except maybe he had some news. I didn’t.. Not until I came home and I find you two.. My boys just- here.” His voice was rough, thick with emotion. “I didn’t think that he’d done it.”

“But he did.” Steve added quietly.

He felt something thick and hot rise in his chest, and he didn’t realize he’d started crying until Eddie brushed a thumb under his eyes.

“He did find me.. Found us.” Steve whispered. “He never said his name, or that he knew you.”

Wayne was crying now too, no theatrics- just the silent collapse of a man who had carried hope long past the point where it should’ve given out.

Steve and Eddie didn’t need to speak. They crossed the room as one, wrapping their arms around Wayne, tightly.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, his voice cracking as Wayne’s shoulders slowly stopped their shaking.

After a long moment Wayne pulled back, blinking up at them. “The hell are you apologizing for now?”

Steve and Eddie quietly made their way back to the couch, though now Eddie wouldn’t meet Wayne’s eye. “We.. We’ve been out over two months.” Eddie quietly admitted. His hand quickly taking Steve’s. “I didn’t.. I didn’t know how to come home and I was.. I was scared.. Terrified even.”

“Oh.” Came Wayne’s quiet reply as his face crumpled. “Oh, son.. No. You don’t ever need to be sorry for that. Not for taking the time you need… I don’t care if you’d been out for two months or twenty years. You’re back. You made it back. Both of you. That’s all I care about. All that matters.”

Eddie nodded quickly, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder as if he could hide the fresh tears that broke free.

Steve wrapped his arms around him tightly. Held him like he’d never let go.

And for once, there was no rush to speak, to explain, to do. Just the quiet safety of being together, in the place they never really believe they’d make it back to.

Home.

---

Eventually, the three of them managed to make it upstairs and back to their respective bedrooms. The promise of talk held off in favor of sleep. Wayne had pressed a kiss to each of their heads, before quietly promising he’d see them in the morning. There was still so much to say. But it would wait as the emotions of the day exhausted them all, but they were hopeful for tomorrow.

Back in Eddie’s room, the world slowed.

Steve was sprawled across Eddie like he belonged there, like his body had been shaped to fit against Eddie’s. Chest to hips, his chin resting lightly against him. One of Eddie’s hands was tucked beneath his sweatshirt, lazy fingers tracing delicate, weightless loops into his skin. In return, Steve’s hand wandered across Eddie’s shirtless chest, slow and aimless, until he found the ink. Barely there fingers slowly tracing around it.

The room was dim and peaceful, lit only by the soft glow of the hallway light bleeding under the crack in the door. It was the kind of quiet that felt like being wrapped in something- blankets or arms, Steve couldn’t tell.

But even in the stillness, his mind was noisy. That urge had crept in again. The words pressing up against his ribs, knocking at his throat. It hasn’t been long, but he wanted to say them. Three words that he knew, deep down, he meant more than anything. Because it was true, it was real.

But he was scared. Scared it would be thrown in his face again, called bullshit. Rejected.

It was stupid, he knows that. Eddie wouldn’t do that, not to him. But the fear still lingered, old and ugly. Sitting in the back of his mind next to the warm content pulse of their bond. What if he said it and the world shifted again? What if saying it broke something? Every time he had tried, every relationship he had, he always ruined. He didn’t want to ruin this. Ruin them.

Eddie’s voice broke through the noise, soft and teasing. “Penny for your thoughts? I actually have one now, so you’d be getting a deal.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, his fingers dancing up to trace Eddie’s jaw. “Mm, nothing important. Just.. Thinking about something I want to ask Wayne tomorrow.. Thinking about us. About how nice this is. How much I like it when we’re just.. Here. Like this. Alone.”

Eddie let out a soft puff of air from his nose, pinching Steve’s hip lightly, affectionately. “Yeah? I like it too. Like it when you’re all cuddly and warm. All slow limbed and content, draped all over me like a blanket. You’re the best blanket I’ve ever had Harrington. And the prettiest.”

“Mm not.” He mumbled, letting his head rest back against Eddie.

“Are too.” Eddie whispered, fingers going back to draw lazy shapes onto his back. “Don’t argue with me sweetheart. I’m an expert on Steve Harrington Appreciation. Tenured, even.”

He smiled, lips brushing against skin as he mumbled. “Idiot.” But there was no bite to it. His fingers slowly moving again, letting them drag over until he found the bats tattooed on Eddie’s arm, tracing their wings one by one.

They laid like that for a while. The silence settling over them peacefully. Just the sound of barely breathing and slow drags of fingers between them.

Eventually, Eddie shifted just enough to press a kiss to the crown of Steve’s head. “You ever gonna tell me what else you were thinkin’ about?” He asked, quiet enough the silence wasn’t disturbed. Only meant for their ears. “Feels like you’re holdin’ something.”

Steve let out a small hum, nuzzling his cheek against Eddie’s warmth. “Nah.” He murmured, lips tugging into a sleepy smile. “Gotta keep you on your toes, Munson.”

Eddie huffed out another laugh, warm and fond, his hand smoothing up Steve’s spine. “Oh, is that how it is? You’re keepin’ secrets now?”

“Just one or two.” He answered, voice thick with drowsy amusement. “Gotta give you a reason to keep me around.”

Eddie’s fingers paused for half a second before starting their lazy path again, slower now, more deliberate. “Pretty sure I’ve got about a thousand reasons already sweetheart.” He whispered. “But if you want to keep adding to the list, I’m not gonna stop you.”

Steve’s hand trailed up to settle flat over Eddie’s heart. “You’re real sappy when you’re tired, y’know that?” He mumbled.

“Only for you Stevie… Only for you.”

They fell into silence again, a different kind this time- still playful, still soft, but wrapped in a shared warmth that hadn’t needed any grand confessions after all.

Steve shifted, pressing a slow kiss to the center of Eddie’s chest before settling back into place, eyes fluttering closed. “I like this.” His mumble was barely more than a whisper.

Eddie’s arms tightened around him. “Yeah.” He breathed. “Me too.”

And with the soft barely there beats of their hearts, they drifted off- safe, together, and exactly where they were meant to be.

---

The first few rays of morning light were barely slipping through the edges of the curtains, soft and golden, casting long shadows over the tangle of blankets and limbs that was Steve and Eddie in bed.

They hadn’t moved much through the night, just shifted impossibly closer, as if the space between them was an insult. Now, Steve was straddling Eddie’s hips, both of them pressed together, always needing to be touching in some way. Eddie’s hands slid up Steve’s sides, slipping under the worn sweatshirt, now rumpled with sleep, thumbs teasing the sensitive warmth beneath.

Steve leaned down, lips brushing Eddie’s with the kind of slow, aching drag that spoke of lazy mornings and endless time to burn. But beneath the softness there was a raw edge, a hunger that simmered just under the surface, electric and undeniable.

Eddie’s hand slid higher under the sweatshirt, palm splayed against Steve’s back. “Mmm.” He hummed against Steve’s mouth. “Too many layers sweetheart.” He growled against his mouth, nails gently raking down Steve’s back.

He let out a sharp, teasing huff. “What, this?” He teased, lips still brushing Eddie’s. “You didn’t seem to mind it last night.”

Eddie only grinned, all teeth and promise, as fingers tugged gently at the hem. Until Steve pulled back just enough to let him yank the sweatshirt off and toss it into the shadows of the room. Steve leaned back down, skin on skin, a collision of heat as their mouths met again- slower, deeper, a wet slide of tongues.

The bed creaked softly beneath them, a sharp pause cut the air. Eddie let his nose brush against Steve’s cheek. “Gotta be quiet sweetheart.” Came the rasped warning, voice thick and warm with want. “Wayne’s down the hall this time, remember? Don’t make me stop.”

Steve smiled, fingers weaving into dark curls, pulling hard enough to sting. “Then don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Oh Stevie.. I’ll finish.” Came the rough purr, and in a blur of rustling blankets, their positions flipped. Steve’s back hitting the bed with a thud as Eddie straddled him, thighs bracketing his hips with possessive intent. Calloused hands skimmed over ribs, slow and deliberate.

A wicked grin lip up his face as he traced his hands down Steve’s arms. He suddenly grabbed Steve’s wrists slowly, gently, guiding them above his head, pinning them to the pillow. “Stay right there.” Eddie whispered, hot against Steve’s jaw, lips grazing skin. “Be a good boy. Keep that pretty mouth quiet for me.”

Steve’s chest hitched, no breath needed, but the habit lingered, a shudder rolling through him at the low, commanding tone. He nodded, eyes fluttering. “Yeah.” He breathed out, barely audible. “I’ll be good.”

Eddie kissed the corner of his mouth, slow and sweet, before trailing down, tracing the sharp line of his throat, lingering at the collarbone. Sitting back slightly, still straddling Steve’s thighs, his hands dragged down the chest in front of him, stopping to lightly tug on his chest hair, before skimming back down, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his hips, thumbs circling with intent.

Morning light slashed across pale skin, golden streaks painting Steve’s chest, collarbone, his stomach, moving with the subtle flex of muscle beneath. His gaze turned predatory, pupils blown wide. “Fucking Christ, Stevie.” He slowly grazed his claws over the taut stomach, leaving faint red lines. “You’re too damn gorgeous for this early. Should be a crime.”

Steve flushed under the praise, lips parted, already swollen and red. Arms stayed stretched above, fingers digging into the pillow like he needed something to hold onto.

Eddie leaned down again, mouth brushing the curve of Steve’s jaw as he leaned up, whispering rough and close to his ear. “You make me wanna sink my fangs into that pretty little neck of yours. Riiiight..” He slid down slowly, lips dragging, teasing at Steve’s pulse point. Teeth grazing bluntly. “Here.” He placed a soft kiss against heated skin. “Gonna make you fall apart, leave you shaking.”

A sharp gasp escaped him, legs shifting beneath Eddie, hips rocking up instinctively, grinding against the pressure above with a slow, needy roll. Eyes met, glassy and wide, pleading without shame. “Do it.” He whispered, voice raw. “Please.” A plea wrapped in silk.

Eddie groaned, low, possessive. He let their mouths crash together, rough and starving, teeth clashing in messy desperation. He kissed Steve until his spine arched, until he whimpered quietly, trying to stay silent but cracking around the edges.

“Quiet, baby.” Came the growled reminder against his lips. “Wake him up and we’re done. You don’t want that, do you?”

Steve gave a desperate shake of his head, lips trembling as he bit back another sound. Eddie slowly slid one hand up Steve’s chest, over his arm and gripped his wrists. The other traced down his chest, lingering over his heart before dipping lower, a thumb dipping just under the waistband of his sweats, teasing the sensitive skin there.

And then he leaned in, nose dragging along his neck, lips brushing the spot where his pulse should be. Fangs slid into place with a quiet click. The sound causing a shiver to roll through Steve. “Begged so nicely, said please and everything.” He whispered, voice dripping with hunger. “So I’m gonna give it to you sweetheart.”

And then his fangs sank in, piercing slow, deep. Steve’s entire body convulsed- shoulders jerking off the mattress, a chocked, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he shoved his face into his arm, biting with blunt teeth to muffle it.

Pleasure hit like a tidal wave, indescribable, burning through every nerve with blinding intensity, a raw ecstasy that shattered thought. “Fuck- Oh fuck! Eddie, yes!” He gasped into his arm, voice breaking, hips bucking, hard. Grinding up against the weight straddling him in frantic, desperate rolls, seeking more of that friction. His thighs quaked, muscles locking and trembling, fingers clawing at the pillow above as if to hold onto reality while his body spiraled. Low, keening whimpers spilling out, muffled but jagged, every inch of him alight with unbearable bliss.

The feeding was deliberate, drags slow and savoring, hot puffs of air against his skin as Eddie fought to stifle his own sounds. That grip on his wrists never wavered, keeping him pinned, owned, worshipped, as each shudder and broken noise was claimed.

Finally pulling back, lips smeared with crimson, Eddie slowly licked the bite closed, followed by a hard, wet kiss to the heated skin beside it. “You’re mine.” Came the rough whisper into his ear. “Always gonna be mine.”

He could only nod weakly, wrecked and trembling, soft, shattered moans still slipping out as aftershocks pulsed through him, body limp beneath the weight, utterly surrendered to the high of that bite. A weak, toothy smile lighting up his face, lopsided and dazed.

Eddie’s expression softened immediately, all the wild hunger melting away into something quiet, something achingly fond. He shifted slowly, carefully, as if Steve might break beneath him. He slowly eased the pressure off Steve’s wrists, gently coaxing them down, guiding them to rest between them.

“You were so good for me sweetheart.” He murmured, brushing his thumbs gently over the tender skin of Steve’s wrists. He cradled them in his hands like something sacred, lifting one to press a lingering kiss to the inside- soft, slow, like an apology stitched into affection. “So damn good.”

Steve’s eyes were glassy, pupils still blown wide, but there was something blissed-out and dreamy in the way he looked up at Eddie, like he was seeing stars. His smile widened just a bit, sleepy, unguarded.

Eddie kissed his other wrist, lips dragging over the skin. “Didn’t mean to hold you so tight.” He said quietly, though there was no regret in his voice- just a gentleness, a reverence. “You okay?”

Steve nodded, slow and almost lazy, like the effort to move was too much right now. “Mmm.” He hummed in the back of his throat, eyes slipping closed briefly, then fluttering back open. “M’kay. Just… Floaty.”

“Floaty, huh?” Eddie chuckled softly, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “Yeah baby I bet. But you were so good. So good Stevie.” He stayed like that for a beat, breathing in Steve’s scent, letting the quiet settle between them. His thumbs never stopped their slow massage, tracing lazy circles into the soft skin of Steve’s wrists. The only sounds were the quiet hum of the morning outside the curtained windows, the low sounds of the house outside their bedroom door.

Steve blinked slowly, struggling through the warmth in his limbs and the fog in his head to find words. “That… That was…”

Eddie smiled, tilting his head down so he could look into Steve’s eyes. “Yeah?”

He swallowed, lips parting around the shape of a thought that took a few seconds to land. “.. Good. Really… Good.”

“Yeah, baby.” Eddie whispered, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “It was.”

Steve sighed, melting further into the mattress, one hand finally lifting with some effort to card gently through Eddie’s hair. “Love when you... Get sappy with me.”

Eddie smiled into his skin, nuzzling closer. “You bring it outta me Stevie. Just you.” He slowly moved off of Steve, rolling over to lay next to him. “I was thinking.. When you’re a little more here. How about we go down and make breakfast for Wayne for a change? Let him have the morning off.”

He hummed quietly. “Mm’Kay.” He slowly glanced up to the curtains, golden morning light softening at the edges, catching in the dust motes that drifted lazily through the air. The day was creeping in gently, but neither of them moved right away.

Steve’s eyes slipped closed again for a moment, his breathing even, his face calm in the way it only ever seemed to be around Eddie. He blinked again slowly, words delayed by the lingering weight of bliss. “Mm we’d have to beat him to the coffee.” He murmured finally, voice gravelly, warm with sleep and affection.

Eddie chuckled softly beside him, fingers tracing at the edge of Steve’s wrists again, the movement absent but soothing. “I think I can manage a little vampire stealth for a cup or two. We can even lie and tell him we didn’t spike the eggs with paprika.”

Steve cracked another small, crooked smile. “He likes paprika. Just pretends not to.”

“Exactly.” Eddie grinned, nose brushing against Steve’s temple before he pressed a soft kiss there. “It’s part of the ritual. We burn the toast. He makes that face, yeah you know the face.” Steve nods quickly. “You get to call me a menace ‘cause I keep stealin’ kisses. Then he acts like he didn’t teach me half the trick I use to survive.”

Steve let out a slow, warm breath. “Think… Think I like that.” He murmured, eyes still half-lidded. “Rituals.”

Eddie glanced sideways, watching him- the lazy sprawl of his limbs, the way his hand had drifted toward Eddie. He leaned over and kissed him again, slower this time, softer. Just a press of mouths and then a breath between.

“Me too Stevie.” Eddie whispered against his lips. “Especially the ones with you in ‘em.”

They lay there for another few minutes, letting silence curl around them like another blanket. Then Eddie gave a light pat to Steve’s stomach, grinning. “C’mon, lover boy. We’ve got coffee to steal and a Wayne to impress.”

Steve groaned quietly, stretching just enough to pop something in his back. “Only if you’re the ones flipping the french toast this time.”

“Oh, I’m flipping more than toast this morning.” Eddie said with a mock wiggle of his brows.

He rolled his eyes, snorting as he pushed himself upright with all the effort or someone dragging themselves out of the world’s most perfect bed. “You’re lucky I’m kind of obsessed with you Munson.”

Eddie reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah. I really, really am..” He smiled, voice dropping just slightly, quiet but sure. “And I’m kind of obsessed with you too, Harrington.”

They got up together, still a little wobbly, still a little bleary, and passed quietly toward the door. Their footsteps quiet as they grabbed a change of clothes, heading toward the bathroom to clean up. Trying not to wake Wayne before they could surprise him with a half-decent breakfast.

---

The three of them sat at the kitchen table, mugs of coffee and blood nestled between half-cleared plates of eggs, hashbrowns, french toast, and bacon. Sunlight poured in through the windows, golden and soft, and for the first time in what felt like forever, laughter filled the house like it belonged there.

“So you’re telling me-” Eddie managed between bursts of laughter, a piece of bacon forgotten in his hand as he pointed it accusingly at Steve. “Harrington here broke in the house, through the kitchen window because..” He stifled another fit of laughter. “Because he was drunk?”

Waye nodded, chuckling low as he stabbed another bite of french toast. “Mhm. Didn’t even use the key I gave him. Had it for a week by then. Found ‘im halfway through the window, legs kickin’, grumblin’ about the blinds being in his way. He was on his way.. Out.” He smiled around his next bite.

Steve groaned, slouching lower into his chair, dragging his mug to his lips like it might save him from the conversation. “I was trying to be quiet.” He mumbled.

Eddie nearly choked on his laugh, banging his fist on the time as he wheezed. “Quiet?! Oh we know how you can be when you’re quiet!”

Wayne nodded, muttering. “Yes and I don’t need to hear it again.”

Both of them froze. Eddie with his mouth half open, a look of horror slowly spreading across his face. Steve’s cheeks colored immediately as his eyes widened.

Wayne smirked as he brought his mug to his lips. “But your boy did knock over the dish rack on his way out. Wouldn’t’ve known he was here otherwise.” He changed the topic back, letting them have an out from the embarrassment.

Eddie shook himself, blinking several times before turning to Steve who sat still looking horrified. “And how did you even get drunk?” He asks after a beat of silence. “What, did you shotgun twenty beers and pray something happened? Coffee hardly works on me how does-?”

Steve looked away, muttering too low for even Eddie to clearly make out, face still flushed. “Owensgotmesomespikedbloodand-”

“What was that Stevie?” Eddie leaned in grinning, voice all faux innocence. “Gotta speak up sweetheart. I can’t hear you over how ridiculous that sounded.”

Steve groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “The others.. Wanted a night without the kids around, said we should do something fun. But uh.. They were worried I’d be left out so we.. We reached out to Owens. He said it’d be a good ‘controlled experiment’ so he got me some.. Spiked blood.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “Spiked blood?”

Eddie blinked at him, then burst out laughing all over again, “Oh my god! You’re telling me you got blackout wasted on vampire jungle juice and decided to burglarize your own home?”

Wayne chuckled into his coffee, eyes crinkled at the corners in that warm, proud-dad way that made Steve simultaneously want to melt into the floor and bask in it.

“I.. Technically I left my house to come here and… I didn’t think it would work that well.” He mumbled, his cheeks heating up. “And I forgot I had a key, okay?!”

Eddie nudged his foot under the table. “Did you at least steal anything good while you were at it?”

Steve deadpanned, “A pan of leftover meatloaf. And one of Wayne’s flannels.”

Wayne just shrugged. “That tracks.”

“Yeah.” Steve replied, sheepish now. “And I-well-I drank it.. A lot of it. Like… A lot. It was.. It was just good and so I.. Yeah. I got drunk.” He tried to shrug it off, embarrassed.

Eddie’s laughter slowly faded off into an easy smile. The kind that hung around even after the noise disappeared- lingering like the scent of coffee, like comfort. Eddie leaned back in his chair, watching Steve fondly, heart soft and stretched too full in his chest.

“Next time you wanna steal something, Harrington, you just ask. I’ll hand it over with a bow.”

Steve smiled around the rim of his mug. “Already got the best thing right here.” He said quietly.

Eddie stilled. His throat working on a swallow he hadn’t expected, eyes flickering to Wayne, who just gave him a subtle nod over his coffee, like he’d heard it too- and understood.

Eddie reached across the table, fingers brushing Steve’s where they now rested on the wood. “Right back at you sunshine.”

Steve’s smile softened at that, gaze dropping to their joined hand. He gave Eddie’s fingers a small squeeze. For a long moment, nothing else was said- just the gentle ticking of the clock near the stove, the hum of the house, and the warmth that passed between them.

Eventually, with a sigh and a stretch, Eddie stood, tugging Steve up with him. “C’mon, let’s clean up too before Wayne tells us we’re freeloaders.”

Steve snorted, following him to the sink. Wayne just gave a mock grunt of agreement, already collecting the mugs and plates with a quiet efficiency. The three of them moved around each other in a peaceful rhythm, trading dishes and towels, bumping shoulders gently, a dance formed not from obligation but ease.

No one said much- and they didn’t need to.

It was the kind of silence filled with understanding. A kind where presence alone said everything: I’m here. I’m staying. We’re okay.

Once the last plate was stacked and the counters wiped down, Wayne made his way into the living room with a quiet sigh, settling into his usual recliner. He leaned back with the stretch, groaning just a little as he adjusted the cushion behind him.

He and Eddie followed soon after. Eddie flopped down onto the couch, claiming his usual sprawl: feet stretched out along the length of the cushions, back nestled into the armrest, one arm slung lazily across the top of the sofa. Like he’d been here the whole time.

He mirrored Eddie instinctively, sliding into place on the opposite end. Their legs overlapped, socked feet pressing together in the middle- light contact, but constant. Even when they weren’t touching with their hands. They were still reaching for each other.

Eddie’s thumb began to trace slow, absent circles along the edge of the couch. Steve tilted his head slightly, watching him with a quiet smile. -I think we should tell him.-

‘Hmm?.. Mm yeah. Yeah me too. Do you think he’d-’

Wayne sipped from a fresh cup of coffee, looking over the rim at the two of them. “You boys planning on talkin’, or just sitting there bein’ disgustingly in love all afternoon?”

Eddie chuckled. “Not our fault we’re adorable old man.”

He gave Wayne a sleepy grin. “You can leave if it gets too gross. We won’t stop you.”

Wayne just huffed a small laugh and shook his head, but there was a fondness in his eyes- the kind that said don’t you dare go anywhere.

Steve stretched his foot just slightly, until his toes curled under Eddie’s calf. Eddie nudged back in turn. ‘You okay?’ -Yeah, yeah I’m good.-

With a nod Steve glanced over at Wayne. Who was sipping from his coffee, settled deep in his recliner but clearly listening. “There is actually.. Something we want to tell you.” He began nervously. “Something we haven’t really yet figured out if it’s an Upside Down thing or.. Or a vampire thing.”

“Not like we can ask other vampires.” Eddie mutters, dry but affectionate, a smirk playing on his lips. “Kinda short on mentors for this whole ‘undead’ gig.”

Wayne chuckled softly. “That’s true. Once found your boy over here pressing at his gums tryin’ to get his fangs to drop.”

“Yeah.” He quietly laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Um.. Anyway, there’s this.. Thing. Between us.”

“The bond.” Wayne supplied, giving a small nod. “You mentioned it yesterday, just offhand. I was waitin’ for you to bring it up. Been a little curious, if I’m bein’ honest.”

Steve let out a quiet exhale, shoulders relaxing at Wayne’s calm response. “Yeah.. Our bond it um.. We’re connected. Not just emotionally, like, we feel each other. If something’s strong enough- panic, fear, happiness- it comes through, loud and clear. And we can.. We can talk. In our heads. We used to just get cut off but I.. I guess I controlled that? I don’t know. But now we can.. We can have like hour long conversations and the bond just.. Be there. I have, I think, full control of it now.”

Wayne’s eyes flickered between the two of them, thoughtful. “Were you doin’ it just a minute ago?”

“Yeah.” Steve answers quietly, nervously. “I wanted to tell you and Eddie agreed. We uh.. We do it a lot actually. It’s.. Comforting.”

Wayne hummed, but he didn’t smell of fear, or anger, just.. Curious. He set his coffee into the cupholder. “And how long’s this been goin’ on?”

“Fully started?” Eddie answered, voice quieter now. “In the lab, I think.” He glanced at Steve for confirmation.

Steve nodded. “I mean.. I felt it out here before the lab. The ice cold feeling I mentioned, it was Eddie’s panic, his fear. In the lab I kept feeling it and kept trying to focus on it but, got nowhere until.. Until they showed me Eddie and our eyes met and it was just this.. I knew it was him all along. Anyway, one day after that I was just thinking about him, pretty much all day. Just trying to figure out things and suddenly pop there he is, in my head.”

Eddie let out a quiet laugh, smiling. “I was so confused too. Just thought I was finally going crazy or.. It was left over adrenaline or something from that morning. But then it got stronger. Clearer. Growing louder and louder and then suddenly this quiet whispering is just.. There. Loud and clear. Now it’s like-” He let his foot brush against Steve’s “Like there’s a thread. Tied between us. I tug, he feels it. He thinks something to me, I catch it as clearly as if he said it outloud.”

“Does it hurt?” Wayne asked.

Steve shook his head. “Not at all. If anything, it helps. Especially on bad nights. It’s… Grounding. Now, I’ll be honest the panic and fear feel.. Not great. But I'm still glad to have them there. There was a uh.. An issue after we escaped, we had a.. A fight.”

Eddie snorted, folding his arms across his chest, interrupting. “We were both idiots and then I hurt Stevie’s feelings and.. Yeah.” He shook his head.

Steve nodded. “We were both idiots who are bad at communication and I.. I didn’t know that I did it but I.. I accidentally closed the bond off. It didn’t even fully reopen until I was scared in the woods on the way here. I.. I couldn’t remember if this was real or if I was still-..”

Eddie sat up, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Steve’s ankle. “This is real.” He whispered.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah.. Yeah I know.. Read the calendar.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

Wayne nodded again, slower this time. His eyes softening as he looked at the two of them. “Well. Sounds like a gift to me. One hell of a strange one, sure, but still. You two’ve been through enough. If the universe decided to throw you somethin’ that makes it easier to carry.. I’m not gonna question it.”

Eddie smiled at that, a little crooked, but real. Steve leaned back again, watching Wayne, his heart easing in his chest. “I just didn’t want to hide it from you.” Steve whispered. “You’ve done so much already. You should know what you’re getting stuck with.”

Wayne just shook his head. “Kid, I already knew. The second you and that kid stumbled into my house with an arm full of paints and house warming gifts. The second you fell asleep here that first night. The second I saw you wearin’ Eddie’s vest. I knew. And as long as you keep showin’ up, treatin’ each other like you’re doin’ now, I don’t care if you’re psychic, blood-drinkin’ bats. Still gonna be my boys.”

That earned a quiet laugh from Eddie and a toothy grin from Steve. The tension melting further out of the room.

Wayne leaned back against his recliner, a pleased sigh leaving him. “Now, if one of you starts floating or turnin’ into smoke, we’re gonna have another talk. But ‘til then, I’m good.”

Steve nudged Eddie’s leg with his own, whispering through the bond. -You hear that? Still his boys.-

Eddie gave a small smile and pushed back, ‘Damn right.’

---

“Wayne?” Steve finally broke the silence that settled around them, nerves finally getting the best of him.

“Hmm?’ Wayne answered, slowly folding the newspaper he’d gotten up to collect. He looked relaxed.

“I um.. While we were in there I was.. Being interrogated. Kind of.” He started, fiddling with his thumbs, unable to keep his hands still. How claws itched just under the surface, like his body already knew where this conversation was going before his mind had caught up. “And I was told.. I was told that well…”

His voice lowered to a whisper, like he could muffle the weight of the question if it didn’t come out full volume. “Do you know.. If.. If my parents bothered to look for me?”

Wayne sat up suddenly. His face flickered- a flash of sharp, familiar anger, it had Steve flinching back. Before it melted into something heavier, something had. “Oh, son.. I-” He started, slow and careful.

“I know you were given the house and my stuff.” Steve quickly interrupted, like he had to get it all out before he lost his nerves, or before he forgot. “Doc told us that you had a.. Letter, help from the suits. That you were given power of attorney and everything.”

“Ah.” Wayne leaned back slightly, understanding blooming behind his eyes. “So that’s why he asked.” He motioned for Steve to continue.

He nodded, his throat working around a lump he didn’t quite know how to swallow. “I just.. I’m glad. I’m glad that you were the one to handle it all and I.. Thank you.”

“Steve.. Son..” Wayne’s voice was rough around the edges now. “There’s no reason to thank me.”

But Steve shook his head, like he had to say it anyway. Like it had been sitting in his chest since the second he woke up in that empty, unfamiliar cell ages ago and realized no one was coming for him.

“As for your parents..” Wayne began again, slower this time, his jaw tight. “They spent all o’ five minutes pretendin’ to look for you. Jus’ enough to keep up appearances. They had a ‘moving’ funeral for you- photographers, catered reception, the whole nine. It was a load of horseshit, is what it was.” He spit the words like venom.

Steve swallowed hard, chest tight.

Wayne went on, voice low and rough with restrained fury. “They left town near right after it. Signed over the house and everythin’ to you without a single question. Claimed it was ‘too painful’ to hold onto. Said the funeral was for closure, ‘just in case’. Didn’ even walk through that house either. Your mother wouldn’t even set foot on the lawn.”

Steve looked down at his hands, claws extending slowly- not out of aggression, but grief. Quiet grief. Old grief. One he thought he had gotten over long before he’d even learned about the Upside Down. “I know.. Doc told me you’d been keeping up the lawn care, the cleaning. I uh.. I saw my room upstairs so..” He shrugged. “My stuffs all there. So..”

Wayne’s face softened again.

“I know you said not to thank you,” Steve murmured, “but thank you anyway. For taking care of my house, my things.. Everything… Me.”

He glanced over at Wayne, eyes glassy but not falling apart, not yet. “Thank you.”

Wayne opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but Steve kept going, rushing now, like he had to push it through before he lost it again. He looked back down, rubbing his knuckles.

“I was told that I was ‘found’ because.. My phone calls were tapped and.. And Hopper mentioned about my blood supply. And I-I don’t care how they found me, or who did it okay? I mean I do.. Just..”

His voice cracked and he clenched his jaw to get control over it again. “Did anyone besides you.. Did they…”

He closed his eyes, shoulders folding in. His next words were barely audible. “Did they, anyone. Did they look for me? At all?”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty- it was thick. Full of everything Steve already knew. Still, it hurt to let it hang there. To wait for someone to confirm it.

Wayne’s voice came after a too long pause. Quiet. Grieving Still. “Not like they should have.”

Steve didn’t move.

Wayne leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “That Robin girl, she never stopped. She kicked up hell. Nearly got herself arrested demandin’ answers. Dustin too. Kid kept callin’ every. Damn. Day. But the suits, they got involved quick… Locked it all up real tight. And your parents? Like I said.. They signed the dotted line, smiled for the camera, and disappeared. Haven’t been back to Hawkin’s since.”

Steve nodded slowly, jaw tight.

“They don’t deserve you.” Wayne said, firm now. “Never did.”

Steve didn’t answer. He just let himself fold further into the couch, claws retracting slowly as his arms fell back to rest across his lap. He stared at the floor for a long moment, trying to remember what his mother’s perfume smelled like -pungent, tasteless-. Trying to remember the sound of his fathers voice -angry, always angry-, anything real, anything human. All he got were images: stiff posture, cold hands, a manila envelope full of legal documents with his name on them.

Then Eddie’s foot pressed gently against his. No words. Just contact. Solid, warm, steady.

Steve let out a breath he didn’t need and finally whispered. “They didn’t even ask if I was found yet?”

Wayne shook his head, eyes sharp with quiet rage. “Didn’t ask a damn thing.”

He gave a small nod and leaned his head against the couch, eyes shut tight.

It was Eddie who finally spoke again, voice low, carrying in the quiet room. “You’re not theirs anymore. You’re ours. Mine. Wayne’s. Robin’s. The kids’. You’ve got a real family now, Stevie. One that shows up.”

Steve didn’t speak- just nodded again, slower this time. Then he reached across the space between them and took Eddie’s hand, curling their fingers together like a tether.

He didn’t say thank you again.

He didn’t have to.

Wayne watched them for a long moment- the tension still riding beneath his skin, the sadness that hadn’t quite found an outlet yet. He shifted forward again, like he was getting ready to tell him something he should’ve said sooner but didn’t know how.

“Steve.” Wayne said quietly. “I need you to know somethin’ else.”

Steve looked up, not quite meeting his eyes, but listening.

“It wasn’t just me. Or Robin. Or Dustin.” Wayne started, voice thick with memory. “You asked if anyone looked for you… They did. Jim, Joyce, your whole damn team. They tried son, every one of them. They really tried.”

Steve blinked, lips parting slightly in surprise.

“Jim.. Hopper. Was beside himself.” Wayne went on. “Didn’t sleep for the first week. He was draggin’ himself through the woods, abandoned roads, beggin’ the suits for access to files they wouldn’t give him. He thought maybe it was somethin’ leftover from the Upside Down. Wouldn’t let it go.. Wouldn’t let you go.”

Steve’s chest tightened, breath caught halfway in his throat. Eddie gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Joyce had this wall goin’- papers, pins, threads, you name it. Kept sayin’ there had to be a trail, had to be a reason. She even called in that journalist fella she knew, tryin’ to get someone on the outside to dig where she couldn’t.”

Wayne’s eyes softened, his voice turning gentler. “And Eleven.. She tried too. Over and over again. Tried findin’ you with those powers of hers. Spent hours in a tub floatin’, hours in that damn void of hers. Said she couldn’t see you- but she kept repeating you weren’t gone. Said you felt… I don’t know, dim? Like you were still there just.. Not.”

Steve swallowed hard. “She couldn’t find me?” He whispered.

Wayne shook his head. “She couldn’t. And it wrecked her son. She blamed herself. Thought maybe she was losin’ her abilities, maybe she wasn’t trying hard enough. She’d come out of it cryin’ some nights. Didn’t understand why sometimes, only sometimes, she could still feel you, but could never reach you. Not even get close.”

He pressed a hand to his chest without thinking, like he could feel it now too if he tried- all that effort, all the pain, echoing across time.

“They all kept at it.” Wayne continued on. “For a while. Robin was a damn storm, didn’t care about bein’ arrested- kicked down doors, shouted at people in the middle of town hall. Dustin was like a one man radio tower, sendin’ messages on every frequency he could reach. Got a larger tower for better distance. Even went to Indy and sent out a message on their radio stations too. Even the little redhead, Max.. After she woke up, after everythin’ she’d been through. She still sat with Eleven and tried to help keep her anchored.”

Steve’s eyes brimmed, but no tears fell. He just sat there, still and heavy, like he didn’t know what to do with the weight of being missed. Of being searched for. “Max.” He whispered. “She.. She woke up.” Eddie’s grip only tightened.

“But the suits… They shut ‘em down.” Wayne continued his hand gripping the armrest tightly. “Hard. Told Hopper if he kept pokin’ ‘round, they’d revoke his badge. Threated to ‘relocate’ Eleven if she kept it up. Scared ‘em all quiet. And then when the weeks turned into months…”

“They stopped trying.” Steve added softly. Not accusatory. Just.. Broken. “Didn’t they?”

Wayne hesitated. “They never stopped caring. But.. Yes.. The calls came less. The search parties stopped. The theories ran dry. You were just… Gone. And after a while.. That’s just what people started to believe.”

He paused, letting it settle, then, “Everyone… ‘crept me.”

Steve looked up at that.

“I told you. I knew you weren’t dead.” Wayne kept on. “Didn’t need proof. Didn’t need some file or a body or some superpowered kid to tell me that. I knew. Just Like I knew you were comin’ home someday. So I kept the house up. Kept your room clean. Made you one here. Kept the porch light on.. Though it seems I need to change the bulb now.”

Steve covered his mouth with a shaking hand, trying to keep the sob inside, but it cracked anyway- small, wounded sounds that escaped despite everything. Eddie shifted to be beside him immediately, reaching out, and Steve didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t need it. He leaned over into Eddie’s open arms, tucking himself into the curve of his arm, pressing his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder.

Wayne let them. Gave them space. Gave them the silence too, let the truth settle in and stay.

“You weren’t forgotten Steve.” Wayne eventually whispered. “Not by the people who matter.”

Steve nodded against Eddie’s chest, eyes squeezed shut.

It wasn’t everything. It didn’t suddenly undo the time lost or the pain they went through.

But it was something.

---

Wayne handed Steve his mug first- piping hot, fingers brushing briefly in the passoff- then Eddie’s. “Still not sure if I should be horrified or impressed by how unbothered people are sellin’ me this stuff.” He muttered, eyeing the blood in their cups with a wrinkled nose.

Eddie huffed a soft laugh, sipping his with a quiet groan of appreciation. “Probably a little both if we’re being honest.”

Wayne just gave them a small shake of his head, the corner of his mouth tugging up as he settled back into his recliner with a fresh cup of coffee. The smell of it curled around the room, mingling with the fading traces of breakfast and whatever pipe they could smell slowly dripping.

For a while, no one said anything.

The house was quiet in a peaceful way- only the low creaks of the wood, the occasional hum of the fridge, the clink of ceramic against Eddie’s rings where he adjusted his grip on the mug. Something he was glad to have back, glad Dustin slowly slipped them off him that day, night? He wasn’t sure.

Steve had tucked his legs under himself now, still pressed sideways along the couch, his shoulder against the armrest and his foot resting easily over Eddie’s ankle.

Eddie was the one to break the silence, voice soft like he didn’t really want to ask it, but needed to. “Do you think… They’d be happy to see me?” He asked Wayne, not quite looking up.

Wayne blinked, lowering his mug a fraction. “Who?”

Eddie kept his eyes on his hands. “Everyone. The others, the kids. I know it’s been a long time and lot’s changed, and I was… I was never really someone people missed. Not the way Steve was. Was hardly even ‘part of their party.”

“Hey.” Steve murmured, barely audible.

But Wayne answered first.

“They’d be happy Eds.” He said, without hesitation. “Shit, they’d lose their damn minds. You kiddin’? That Henderson boy never shut up about you. Wore that damn Hellfire shirt until it was nearly threadbare. I once asked him if he ever thought about quittin’ the campaign, the one you started, yeah he continued it. And he looked at me like I’d grown two heads. Got a long screaming lecture from him too.”

Eddie’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile.

“They tried to honor you in their own ways.” Wayne continued, a little slower. “Kept your name alive the only way they knew how. Told the truth, even when people didn’t believe them. Even when it cost ‘em.”

“I..” Steve started, staring down at his own mug. “Before Dustin and I started coming here.. I broke down during one of my shirts.. Robin and I were huddled under the counter and I just.. I was finally having that breakdown that we lost you.” He glanced over at Eddie for a quick second before looking back down at his mug, slowly taking a sip.

“I didn’t understand why I was so upset. I didn’t understand because I hardly knew you. But… I had desperately wanted to. And I.. Robin locked up. Middle of the day just, closed up shop and sat with me. Made me realize I.. Made me realize I was heartbroken over what could’ve been. Made me realize I was into you.. And that, that was okay. And it was okay for me to be so upset over it too.”

He glanced back up, meeting Eddie’s tear filled eyes. “So yeah.. You’ve been missed Eds. They didn’t know you had a chance at being alive. They thought you were dead, so they didn’t look for you. But they missed you, so much.”

Eddie nodded slowly, like it took him a moment to process the weight of the words.

Slowly they both looked away, drinking from their mugs. They’d need to talk more about it later, but not now. Not when they still had so many more questions.

Steve leaned forward then, arms resting on his knees, eyes flickering between Wayne and the half empty mug in his hands.

He spoke in a breath barely above a whisper. “Do you think it’d be.. It’d even be worth it.. For anyone to know we’re alive?”

The question hung heavy in the air, sinking deep into the quiet that followed.

Wayne didn’t respond right away. He took a slow sip of his coffee, then set it down gently, hands folding in his lap as he looked at the two of them- really looked at them. At Steve’s drawn face, the way his fingers curled tightly around the ceramic mug like it was anchoring him, just shy of cracking it. At Eddie, stilling still for once, waiting, eyes shadowed but open, his thumb tracing thoughtless circles against his own mug. Both of them too pale in the light, like the world hadn’t quite let them return to it yet.

Wayne took a breath.

“I can’t tell you how people’ll react.” Wayne finally said, “A lot can happen in the dark, in silence, in waiting. People fill in the blanks however they can just to keep moving forward. That don’t always make ‘em right.”

“I think…” He continued slowly, “I think people who mattered before you were gone- the ones who loved you, really loved you- they’d still want to know. I can’t tell you exactly how they’d react. I can’t promise it wouldn’t be complicated or hard or messy.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, voice quiet but firm.

“But I can tell you this. You’re still missed. Every. Damn. Day. And not just by me. Not just here, in this house. The ones who were in your corner back then? They never stopped wonderin’. Never stopped hurting.”

Steve blinked slowly, staring down at his mug, breathing shallow through his nose letting the smells around him comfort him. Eddie’s hand brushed his thigh gently.

Wayne glanced between them, his expression softening. “People move on ‘cause they have to. Not ‘cause they want to. Some of ‘em might’ve had to bury hope just to survive. That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t want to know you’re still out there. That you made it… That you’re home.”

“Hopper, Joyce, that whole jumble of people- they were tearing holes in the world lookin’ for you. Hell, that girl, Eleven- she tried damn near everything. Pushed herself so hard tryin’ to find you I thought she might burn herself out. She kept saying; ‘He’s not gone-gone I just.. Can’t see him.’ Drove her crazy, not knowing why.”

His mouth tugged down as he shook his head. “They tried. All of ‘em. For a long time, until those suits came in and started slamming doors, shuttin’ mouths.”

Wayne looked down at his hands. “They didn’t stop ‘cause they didn’t care.” He continued, softer. “They stopped ‘cause they were forced to. And even then, those kids.. They still snuck out leads, lit candles, kept hopin’. Not as loud as before, but still. There was always someone holdin’ on.”

Eddie leaned further into the couch, the truth settling over him like a weight. Steve hadn't moved.

Wayne glanced up again, watching the two of them carefully.

“I can’t tell you if they’ll believe it right away. Or how they’ll handle it. But you should know.. Neither of you were forgotten. Not by them. Certainly not by me.”

Then, quietly, Wayne added, like it was just a simple fact he’d almost forgotten to mention:

“‘Specially not after bein’ gone as long as you were. Those kids are graduating this year. Bit late given what happened, but lots of things got messed up. Those kids and everyone else had to repeat the entire year cause things got lost or went missin’, sort of like the people.” He shook his head. “Hell, come July I think, it’ll be four years since you both disappeared.”

Silence.

It didn’t register at first.

Steve blinked, his brows pulling together. “Wait…. What?”

“Mhm, they tried to sign a petition and everything to get them past freshman-”

Eddie tilted his head, like he hadn’t heard right. He interrupted. “Four years?”

Wayne carefully, slowly, nodded. Like he knew something was wrong but hadn’t yet figured it out. “Yeah. Almost. July’ll make it four.”

Steve tried to swallow but his mouth was suddenly bone dry.

He whipped his head up toward Wayne, eyes wide, breath catching. “No, no that.. That can’t be right, can it?” He asked frantically. “It.. It hasn’t been four years. It hasn’t.”

Eddie looked just as shaken, face paling further, mug frozen halfway to his lips. “We thought- Wayne, we thought it was two. Maybe. Maybe a little more. Two and a half, tops.”

Steve’s voice cracked around the words. “We were down there for four years?”

Wayne watched them with an aching softness, realization hitting him like a truck. They didn’t know. “Oh boys..” He brought his hand to his mouth, his thumb pushing up his cheek.

Steve let out a sharp exhale, his mug forgotten, dropped in shock blood spilling across the rug. He dragged both his hands through his hair. His claws having come out and scraping against his scalp. “Jesus Christ.” He whispered.

Eddie leaned forward like he might be sick, elbows on his knees, head falling into his hands, his own mug dropped into the cup holder. “No wonder everything felt so warped down there. We didn’t even notice. We thought-” He broke off.

Steve turned toward him, their eyes locking- both of them wide, terrified, overwhelmed.

“We lost four years.” Steve said, barely above a whisper. “Eddie… We lost four fucking years!”

Wayne’s voice came gently, steady, even if he himself wasn’t. He tried to keep them from falling into the storm brewing between them. “I kept hopin’. Every day. ‘Cause I didn’t believe you were gone for good. And I was right. You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

But neither of them responded. They just sat there, stunned, hearts pounding in their chests, reeling from the truth.

Time hadn’t just slipped away.

It had vanished.

Four years.

Chapter 31: The Weight Of Years

Summary:

“I’ve got you.” Eddie said again, softer now. “You’re safe. You’re not alone."

Five days.

It had been five days since they learned the truth.

Four years gone. Four years lost.

And the world outside had kept turning.

Steve and Eddie hadn’t spoken much about it. Not out loud. But the bond buzzed low and steady between them- always present, always aware. An echo chamber for the thoughts they didn’t yet know how to say.

They were back at the cabin, laying on the training room floor now, limbs sprawled, boots kicked off somewhere across the room, breathing in time but not quite resting. Overhead, the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, dimmed just enough not to hurt their eyes.

A breeze of thought brushed between them, unsure of who said what:

Four years.

A reply followed, low and quiet in the back of their minds:

Feels like yesterday.

They weren’t looking at each other. They didn’t have to. Steve lay with his arm draped over his eyes, chest rising and falling slow, deliberate. Eddie’s fingers tapped absently against the mat beside him, the metal tips of his rings catching the light every so often.

They could hear Wayne’s voice now, having finally come inside and down the stairs. Quiet, hushed. Serious.

“I just think they need time. They’re tryin’. But this ain’t somethin’ you just bounce back from.”

“I’m monitoring them closely. Their vitals were a bit elevated but they’re steady now. Though emotionally- yes… It’s quite a lot.”

Eddie winced but didn’t comment.

Steve shifted, head turning just slightly toward him. His arm falling down beside him, weightless. -You think he regrets it?- He didn’t dare ask aloud.

Eddie blinked at the ceiling. ‘What? Telling us?’

He shook his head, lips pressed thin. He looked back toward the ceiling. -No. Taking care of us. The way he has.. Four years, Eds. That’s a long time to hold on to people the world already gave up on.-

Eddie didn’t answer right away. Then, his hand moved- slow, careful- until the backs of his fingers brushed against Steve’s.

‘He never let us go.’ Eddie pushed gently through the bond.

Another beat of silence.

Steve exhaled. -This place feels smaller than it did before.-

Eddie huffs out a tired laugh. ‘Or we got bigger. Meaner.’ He gestures loosely to the concrete wall behind them, where a fresh crater was still crumbling. ‘Or maybe just worse at holding back. Finally let out all those emotions, no holding us back now.’

-Yeah well, either way.. Training room’s not holding up too well.- A wry edge to his voice vibrated through the bond.

Eddie turned his head just slightly toward him. ‘We keep this up, Doc’ll have to replace it. Maybe with one of those foam pit things.’

He cracked a tired smile. -That’s be a dream. Less impact when you launch me across the room. Though our claws might rip into it.-

“... I didn’t launch you.” Eddie whispered out loud after a beat of silence.

“You absolutely did launch me!”

Eddie let out a low chuckle, but it faded fast. Silence settled back in, heavier this time.

And the bond stirred again.

-We missed so much.-

‘But we didn’t miss each other.’

They breathed in sync again.

Outside, the hallway fell quiet. Wayne’s voice had gone still.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Eddie slowly sat up, stretching until his back popped. ‘We should probably shower. Or do something that doesn’t involve lying in our own sweat and existential dread.’

Steve followed suit, groaning as he rose to his elbows. -Or we could stay here. I don’t think..- He let out a long sigh. -..We can ignore them until they find us. I just… We can hide away a little longer, right?-

Eddie had stopped halfway through stretching, arms over his head, a trail of hair peaking out. He slowly let his arms fall, watching Steve with an unreadable expression. His voice though the bond came quietly. ‘Yeah… We can.’

Eddie slowly sat back down in front of him, legs folding under himself. His movements were quiet now- thoughtful. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither speaking. Just looking. The air between them was heavy but calm, like the eye of a storm they’d finally reached together.

Steve leaned back on his arms, chest still rising and falling like he needed the breath- it was calming. His shirt clung to him in dark, damp patches, sweat sticking to every dip and line of him.

Eddie’s gaze traced over him, slow and quiet and full of something that looked like heartbreak, or awe, or both.

Steve noticed.

He let out a short little huff, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He rolled his eyes, breaking the silence just enough to let the air shift between them.

Then he reached one hand out, fingers curling in the air in a lazy grabby hand gesture.

Eddie blinked- startled, maybe, or just taken off guard by how Steve he still was, even like this.

A slow smile crept across his face.

Without a word, he reached out and took it.

Steve’s fingers curled around his with sudden purpose- and then, without warning, he yanked.

Eddie let out a sharp oof as he tumbled forward, caught completely off guard by the burst of enhanced strength. He landed half-on, half-beside Steve with a thud and a breathless little laugh.

“Jesus, Harrington.”

Steve just smiled up at the ceiling, one arm tucked around Eddie’s waist now, holding him there. “Told you… Hiding’s easier when you’re already lying down.”

Eddie didn’t fight it. He didn’t even try to sit up.

Instead, he let himself settle there- sprawled partly across Steve’s chest, his ears catching the echo of a faint heartbeat that didn’t need to be there, but still comforted him in a way nothing else could.

They lay there for a while. Breathing because it helped. Holding each other because it was the only thing keeping the world from tilting out of control.

“Four years.” Eddie murmured after a long while, his voice barely a whisper.

Steve didn’t answer.

He just pulled Eddie a little closer and didn’t let go.

They stayed like that for a while.

No words. Just warmth. The mat beneath them slowly cooled from the heat of their bodies, but neither moved. Eddie’s head rested over Steve’s ribs now, eyes half-lidded, fingers tracing the curve of Steve’s side through the soaked fabric.

Steve had a hand tangled in Eddie’s curls, absently running through them with slow, tender strokes. Neither knew who started touching first, only that it felt necessary- something grounding in a world that felt anything but.

Every so often, one of them would exhale a breath like they’d been holding it for centuries.

They weren’t speaking aloud anymore, but the bond between them flickered gently- soft pulses of thought. Not words, not really. Just flashes. A memory of sunlight on skin. The taste of coffee from long ago. A lingering ache that wouldn’t name itself.

Steve shifted slightly, turning his head so he could look at Eddie. -I think it’s changing.-

Eddie hummed, the sound low against his ribs. ‘The bond?.. Yeah.. I think so too. Don’t think I’ve ever seen things before. At least.. I don’t think so?’ He gave a half hearted shrug.

Steve hummed as well, letting his fingers gently card through Eddie’s hair. -I think.. I might have.. A memory of you playing guitar. A.. A flash of a.. I don’t know, a page of a.. Cube?-

Eddie snorted quietly. ‘Was it green?’ Steve hummed in agreement. ‘Gelatinous Cube. From the Monster Manual.’

-Dungeons and Dragons?-

‘Mhm.’ Eddie smiled faintly.

-As we… Going to be okay?-

Eddie lifted his head just enough to look at him- his expression unreadable but full of love. ‘Yeah Stevie. We’re gonna be okay.’

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Steve’s jaw. Gentle. Lingering. A silent thank you in the shape of his mouth.

Steve turned his face, just slightly. Catching Eddie’s lips for a proper kiss. It wasn’t heated. It wasn’t desperate. Just soft. Like a promise they kept forgetting they’d already made.

And still, the weight of four years hung in the air between them.

Eventually, they settled back again- Eddie half draped over Steve’s chest, Steve’s arm loose across Eddie’s shoulders.

Time passed.

The lights in the training room shifted slightly as the hours dragged on, dimming on the automated timer as it detected no movement. And they hadn’t moved except to breathe, to hold tighter, to press tight their fingers in each other’s skin like they might vanish if they let go.

Finally, from down the hall- footsteps.

They heard them long before the door pushed open. The quiet crack of boots against the tile. The flicker of lights in the halls. A familiar gait.

They didn’t need to lift their heads to know it was Wayne.

The door eased open.

A soft clink of ceramic, then the warm scent of blood- fresh, heated, spiced the way Steve liked it and cooled just slightly, body temperature, the way Eddie had grown to prefer.

Wayne didn’t speak as he approached. He just knelt next to them, one knee creaking as he bent down and held out the two mugs.

One to Eddie. One to Steve.

“Thought you could use this before dinner.” His voice was low, rough with sleep or emotion- neither of them could tell.

They sat up slowly. Bones popping, muscles groaning, but they took the mugs with murmured thanks. Steve’s hand curled around the mug like he needed the warmth. Eddie gave his uncle a ghost of a smile.

Wayne didn’t press them. He just stood again, walked over to the bench near the door, and sat down with his own cup of coffee in hand. He didn’t sip from it right away. Just sat there, watching them.

They drank in silence.

Three men in a quiet room underground. One trying to be strong. One trying to hold it together. And one just grateful they were both still here.

---

The kitchen was brightly lit, the overhead bulb casting a soft white glow across the scarred countertops and scuffed tiles. The ‘bunker’ they’ve taken to calling it, smelt of meat and concern. Four plates sat on the table- basic, heavy glass ones filled with roasted vegetables, pan fried potatoes, and marinated steaks.

They couldn’t complain that Doc was a bad cook.

Wayne sat across from Steve, his eyes shadowed with tiredness, a calloused hand wrapped loosely around his fork. Doc sat next to him, across from Eddie, a new pair of glasses perched around his neck, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Steve wasn't eating much, just pushing food around his plate when he thought no one would notice.

The only real sound was the scrape of metal against glass. A rhythm. Repetitive. Familiar.

Steve sat next to Eddie, their knees brushing under the table. His head was bowed slightly, eyes unfocused as he chewed slowly. He hadn’t spoken since they’d left the gym, not out loud. Neither had Eddie.

But their bond never stopped humming.

‘Feels like a dream.’ Eddie’s thought came soft, like a ripple across still water. ‘Everything’s normal. Too normal.’

Steve didn’t look up. Just nudged a piece of carrot around with his fork before answering. -It’s not. We’re not.-

A pause. Then, quieter- -But I think I need to pretend. Just for tonight.-

Eddie’s hand twitched under the table, brushing Steve’s. ‘You want to hold my hand and pretend we’re normal gay teens hiding this in the back of your Beemer senior year?’

-It’s a terrible car for secrets. Windows aren’t even tinted.-

‘You’re terrible at secrets.’ Eddie mocked.

Steve huffed out a breath- not a laugh, not really, but enough that Wayne glanced up from his plate.

‘We could sneak outside and make out in Doc’s van.’

Wayne’s eyes were lined with worry, flickering between them and back down again like he didn’t want to intrude but couldn’t help it.

-Tempting offer, Munson.. Very tempting.-

Doc spoke for the first time since they sat down. “You two doing okay with the iron supplements still?” He asked casually, but his tone was brittle around the edges.

Eddie blinked, like he had to surface from underwater to answer. “Yeah. Still tastes like pennies, but it’s fine.”

Steve just nodded.

Wayne’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “You’re not sleeping are you?”

It was a question, not an accusation.

Eddie’s jaw tensed, and Steve forced a bite of food into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to respond.

Wayne glanced at Doc. “You said they’re doing alright, but clearly they’re not sleepin’.”

“They hardly need sleep to begin with.” Doc said gently. “They’re doing well- physically. Psychologically…” He trailed off.

Steve swallowed hard and looked at his plate again. The silence came back, thicker now. More pressing.

-They think were going to snap.-

‘Maybe we already have.’

Steve let his fork fall to the plate with a loud clatter. Eddie looked over at him, their eyes meeting briefly.

-We’re not broken.-

‘I know… But they don’t.’

Eddie let his ankle hook around Steve’s. A quiet tether.

“Boys.” Wayne said suddenly, voice low but steady. They both looked up.

“You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to. But if you think I don’t see what you’re carrying around… What it’s doing to you.. Then you’re not giving this old man enough credit.”

Steve opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Wayne just nodded once, understanding the silence. “Just don’t let it eat you alive, alright? That’s all I’m askin’.”

Doc cleared his throat. “And if it feels like it might… I’m here. We both are.”

Eddie gave a single nod. Steve stared at his plate again.

The scraping of forks slowly resumed. The moment passed, but the heaviness stayed. Not unwelcome- just real.

In the bond, Eddie whispered gently. ‘I’ve got you.’

And after a heartbeat, Steve replied, -Yeah.. I’ve got you too.-

---

Steve and Eddie remained seated at the table long after the food was gone. Their plates had been cleared, the kitchen gradually quieting around them as Wayne and Doc moved through the familiar routine of rinsing and dying the dishes. Setting everything back in its place.

Neither Steve or Eddie spoke. They didn’t feel the need to. The scrape of the sponge across the pan, the clink of dishes into the drying rack, the shuffle of Wayne’s boots across the tile- the sounds filled the silence gently, like background noise from another life.

When the sink finally turned off and the last towel was folded over the oven handle, Wayne gave them a soft glance and jerked his head toward the hallway. “We’ll be in Doc’s office if you need us. Door’s open.”

Doc gave a small smile. “Take the night. No more questions. No more poking.”

Steve nodded, and Eddie gave a quiet thumbs up. The two older men disappeared down the corridor, their footsteps muffled, slow to accommodate Doc without his cane. A few minutes later came the soft click of the office door closing behind them.

Stillness.

Steve leaned his head back against the chair and let out a long, slow breath. Then, without looking at Eddie, he murmured, “Your idea is tempting. The one about pretending, just for a little while.”

Eddie turned toward him, brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

Steve’s gaze slid over him, warm and tired. “Yeah. I wanna feel like… I don’t know. Like me again. Like us. Just for a bit.”

And then he reached across the table, laced their fingers together again, and stood- pulling Eddie up with him.

Eddie followed without question.

Steve led him over to the junk drawer near the pantry and started rummaging through it one-handed, their fingers still laced. A half-dead flashlight. Bent paperclips. A broken rubber band. Ah- sticky notes. He grabbed one and a pen from a nearby jar.

He scribbled quickly, tongue catching between his teeth in concentration.

‘Went to make out.
Will be safe.
Don’t come near the van. ;)
-S & E’

Eddie snorted softly beside him, leaning over his shoulder. “Really? A wink?”

“It sells it.” Steve said, deadpan, peeling the note off. He snagged a piece of tape and quickly dragged a chair over to the corner of the room, where one of the security cameras sat tucked into the ceiling.

Eddie watched with amused admiration as Steve climbed up and carefully stuck the note to the lens. “Subtle.”

Steve hopped down, then took his hand again. “Come on. Before the guilt kicks back in.”

They crept through the bunker like teenagers sneaking out after curfew. Up the stairs, past the creaky landing. Steve was careful to open the front door slow enough that it didn’t groan on its hinges. The night air hit them cool and soft, pine and damp earth in their noses, crickets humming all around them.

They didn’t speak, just ran- quietly, barefoot through the woods, familiar with the path now. Trees blurred past, moonlight slipping through leaves in strips of silver. By the time they reached Doc’s old van parked in the hidden side clearing, they were grinning like idiots.

Steve yanked the back doors open and gave Eddie a crooked little bow. “After you.”

Eddie raised a brow. “So chivalry’s not dead.”

“Just us.” He joked, pulling himself up and in after.

The doors closed behind them with a soft thunk, sealing them into the quiet, slightly dusty, dark.

And for the first time in days- weeks- they were truly, completely alone.

Inside the van, the air was still and thick with the quiet buzz of summer just outside its metal walls. Eddie barely had time to sit back against the back seats when Steve lunged- hands flat against Eddie’s chest, pressing him down until his back hit the seat with a soft thud. Not holding his strength back.

“Woah-” Eddie breathed, a grin forming.

He climbed into Eddie’s lap and straddled his hips, knees bracketing either side. He wiggled a little into place with a small smile, settling in comfortably.

“Your offer.” He started, voice low, breath slightly shaky from the run and maybe something else. “Was really, really tempting.”

Eddie’s hands slid instinctively to Steve’s waist, fingers hooking into his belt loops. He smirked. “Oh yeah?” He murmured, tugging him forward by the hips until their bodies collided fully.

“Yeah.” Steve breathed- right before Eddie surged up and kissed him, hard.

It was all lips and teeth and heat after that.

The kiss was heavy, demanding, years of loneliness and aching and want pressed between them. Steve rocked forward as Eddie’s hands slid up his back, under the soaked shirt, thumbs catching on the ridges of his spine. One of Steve’s hands tangled in Eddie’s curls, the other braced on the seats behind them as they devoured each other, mouths colliding again and again like they couldn’t get close enough.

Eddie only broke away long enough to yank the clingy, sweat-soaked shirt up and over Steve’s head, tossing it somewhere into the dark corners of the van.

“God,” he muttered, eyes sweeping across Steve’s chest. Then he reached up, tugging gently at the patch of dark hair.

“You should’ve been a werewolf Harrington.” Eddie teased with a crooked grin. “Bet you’d howl at the moon, real pretty like.”

Steve laughed, breathless against his mouth. “Shut up.. Idiot.”

But Eddie was already pulling him back down.

And then there was no more talking, just hands and mouths, the kind of kiss that made time drop away entirely- like maybe they weren’t two monsters hiding from the world in the woods, but just two boys in love, stealing time in the back of a van.

Eddie shifted under Steve’s weight, hands skimming down his sides before he rolled them over in a quick, smooth motion. Steve let out a soft “oof” as his back hit the floor of the van, metal cool against his overheated skin despite the blankets beneath them.

Eddie hovered above him now, curls falling like a curtain around his face, eyes burning with something wild and wanting. One of his hands trailed down Steve’s stomach, fingers dragging slow and deliberate.

Steve’s breath hitched- and involuntary reaction. But then he pulled back slightly, lips red and slick, a thin string of spit briefly connecting them before breaking.

Eddie licked his lips lazily, grinning like a madman.

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. “Our first time is not going to be in the back of Doc’s van.”

Eddie blinked, mock-offended. “Excuse you- how dare you suggest I’d defile you like this.” He leaned down, placing a soft, reverent kiss to Steve’s nose. “I have no intention of ruining your virtue. No, no. A fine maiden such as yourself must be properly wooed. Courted with roses and violins. Fed the finest warm blood money can buy. And then- then- bedded with the utmost gentleness in silk sheets and candlelight.”

He was rambling now, -adorable- voice low and theatrical, -hot- a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You deserve at least a poem in your honor before I so much as see you naked. Maybe a ballad. A sonnet. A small parade-” -Mine.-

Steve let out a laugh, and then, with a quick grab to the back of Eddie’s neck, pulled him back down into a kiss that shut him up.

Their mouths met again with less urgency, slower this time. Deeper. Then Steve pulled back until their lips were brushing as he spoke. “I’ve literally sucked your dick more times than I can count, Munson. Pretty sure poems in my honor are out the window. Though I wouldn’t be against a movie and some fresh blood.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh, his forehead dropping against Steve’s. “God, you ruin every romantic moment.” He teased. “You’re like my favorite dream and a little menace rolled into one very pretty package.”

Steve grinned up at him, eyes soft despite the smirk. “You say that like it’s not why you’re obsessed with me.”

“Obsessed is strong.” Eddie lied, brushing his nose against Steve’s as he shifted to settle more comfortably between his thighs. “Deeply infatuated? Dangerously enamoured? Eternally doomed to orbit your golden boy gravity?” He kissed Steve again, slow and lingering. “Take your pick sweetheart.”

He let out a breathless laugh, hands sliding up Eddie’s back beneath his shirt. “You’re such a sap.”

“And you love it.”

“I do.” Steve admitted, surprising both of them with how quietly honest it came out. The moment hung there between them, heavy but not in a bad way.

Eddie didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just dipped his head to kiss along Steve’s jaw, slow and sweet, like he was memorizing the shape of him all over again. “We’ve got time now, so much of it.” He murmured into skin. “However long you want. I’ll write you that damn poem. Just- maybe not tonight. You’re right. Tonight. I just want this.”

“Yeah.” He whispered, pulling him closer. “Yeah, me too.”

And so they stayed like that, tangled in the safety of stolen time, the first quiet moment, the world held at bay by laughter, lips, and the comfort of each other’s warmth.

---

Their laughter echoed softly off the concrete and metal walls as they made their way back down the stairs into the bunker, shoulders bumping as they descended. Steve’s cheeks were flushed- not from exertion, not really, but from the kind of lightness that hadn’t touched him in five days. Maybe longer. Eddie snorted beside him, trying to wipe a smear of blood off the corner of Steve’s mouth with his thumb, only to smear it even more.

“Stop, you’re making it worse-” Steve laughed, batting at his hand and trying to fix it himself.

“Let me help, I’m the artist here.” Eddie said, still snickering. “It’s part of my craft. Bloodstain aesthetics and all that.”

They both froze as they hit the last step.

At the base of the stairs stood Wayne, eyebrows raised, hands tucked casually into his worn jeans. Doc stood beside him with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, mouths a thin, unimpressed line- though his eyes betrayed more concern than irritation.

Steve immediately straightened up, adjusting his shirt as if that would help. It was back on, but the collar did nothing to hide the smeared blood that streaked down his throat or the visible bite marks starting to fade but still very much there. His lips were red- not the flushed pink of kissing, but the darker, messier red of blood.

Eddie, for his part, had less of it on him, but his mouth was equally stained, and there were faint red smudges near his own neck, like someone had tried to clean up in a hurry and missed a few spots.

They looked like exactly what they were- two undead idiots freshly caught sneaking back in after a very enthusiastic. Very bloody, make out session in a van.

Neither of them were brave enough to speak first.

Then Wayne gave a soft snort, shaking his head with something that looked a hell of a lot like fondness. “Well.” He started, dryly. “Judgin’ by the look on your faces and the mess on your necks, I take it you two found a little joy in your extended lunch break.”

Steve flushed deeper. Eddie tried- and failed- not to grin.

Doc sighed, his arms tightening across his chest. “You left the premises. After dark. Without notifying anyone. In a van we’ve used it as an escape vehicle, a mobile lab, and a blood storage unit.”

“Hey.” Eddie held up his hands, still grinning. “It was technically unoccupied and technically only.. A little locked. We just… Unoccupied it harder.”

Steve shook his head. “We left a note.”

“Taped to the camera.” Doc deadpanned. “With a.. Winky face. Very mature.”

Wayne let out a chuckle then, full and low. “They’re fine, Doc. Let ‘em be kids for once.”

Doc gave him a side glance. “They’re not kids anymore, Wayne. And they’re being hunted.”

Wayne nodded, something quieter behind his eyes. “Yeah. I know. But they’re still allowed to feel like they are. Every now and then.”

That silenced the room for a moment.

Steve looked at Eddie. Eddie looked back, something soft and aching in his smile. The weight hadn’t gone, not fully- for years couldn’t be erased in one night. But it had shifted. Eased, just enough to breathe.

Steve scratched at the back of his neck. “We’ll… Clean up.”

Doc finally let out a small breath and uncrossed his arms. “Good. Because I’m not explaining to the night crew why our top vampiric subjects look like they just walked off a crime scene.” He joked.

Wayne smirked and clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder as he passed by.

Eddie snorted. “Doc. We’re you’re only vampiric subjects, ever… And you two suddenly start a boyband called ‘the night crew’ now?.. Could be metal..” He shook his head, amused. “Alright, I’ll hold judgement.” He smiled as he and Steve made their way down the hall.

And Steve, still smiling, still messy, just exhaled through his nose. He let himself feel it: joy, even if it was small. Even if it was temporary. It was still real.

---

His body jerked first- a sudden, violent lurch like something had grabbed him in the dark. His limbs thrashed, kicking and striking out blindly, sweat already breading on his skin. His eyes were clenched shut, face twisted in panic, the sounds tearing from his throat weren’t words, just ragged, broken screams.

The suffocating grip of a nightmare. Snarling faces. Something green. Heavy metals. Eddie. His own slow beating heart was pounding now as he fought an invisible enemy. His screams echoed in the room, raw and desperate, as his arms flailed, fists striking at nothing but air.

Eddie was up in an instant.

“Steve?” His voice was tight, worried. “Steve, hey- hey, it’s okay, it’s just me- baby you’re dreaming, it’s just me-”

But the words weren’t reaching him. He thrashed harder, a leg catching Eddie’s thigh, an elbow nearly striking his chin. Eddie’s own heart was racing. Steve screams grew in volume, a lightbulb burst.

Footsteps thundered down the hallway, a frantic rhythm growing louder, but Steve didn’t hear them as anything more than a threat. Fast. One. Two sets.

Hands grabbed at him suddenly- strong, unyielding even as he used what little strength he had. They held his arms down, but it only fueled the panic. His body arched off the bed, a guttural yell ripping out as he tried to weakly break free. More bulbs blew, yelling came from down the hall.

“No! Get off me! Get the fuck off me!” His voice cracked, thick with terror, as he kicked and twisted. He clawed at the sheets with blunt fingernails, at himself, trying to escape something that wasn’t there, trying to escape the hands.

Eddie tried again, voice cracking. “Steve- Steve sweetheart you’re safe, it’s me! You’re safe- please wake up!-”

That only made it worse. All he felt was the restraint, the invisible weight pressing him down, and it dragged him deeper into the nightmare. His screams turned into broken sobs, his body still fighting against the hold as if his life depended on it. His claws ripping out suddenly in a last feeble attempt at getting free.

So Eddie did the only thing he could.

He surged forward, using every bit of his enhanced strength to pin Steve’s wrists down as gently but as firmly as he could, twisting to straddle behind him, his legs wrapping around to hold him just tight enough to keep him from lashing out further.

“Steve!” The voice sharp now, panicked. Slowly cutting through the haze. “Damn it Steve it’s me! It’s Eddie! You’re not there anymore! You’re safe! You’re home!” Then quietly, almost whispered. “I’ve got you.. Please Stevie, I’ve got you.”

Before he could fully register it, a loud bang erupted as the bedroom door slammed open, hinges rattling.

His eyes snapped open at the sound, wide and wild, crimson-tinged.

He froze in Eddie’s hold- wide eyed, soaked in sweat, chest heaving with panicked breaths he tried to use to calm himself. His body was still shaking, still ready to run, fight, scream- but then Eddie’s arms wrapped around him tighter, not to hold him down anymore, but to keep him there. Keep him here.

His gaze darted to the doorway, where two blurry figures stood panting heavily. He rapidly blinked to clear his vision, the red slowly bleeding away as the panic started to recede. Two men in mismatched pajamas. Wayne, Doc.

Wayne didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The look on his face- gutted and helpless- the hold on his pistol- white knuckled- said everything.

Doc beside him, eyes scanning the room for danger, his shotgun clenched tightly between his hands.

Both of them looked rattled, chests rising and falling fast, their faces pale even for humans in the dim light.

Wayne took a slow step forward, hands raised, but pausing when he saw Eddie’s head shake once.

Steve’s breath hitched, coming in sharp, uneven bursts as his body began to register he wasn’t in the nightmare anymore. His muscles trembled under the iron hold still wrapped around him. Eddie was behind him, his arms locked tight around his, keeping them pinned at his sides. Eddie’s chest pressed hard, firm, against his back. His grip was almost crushing, but it was also grounding now, not suffocating.

“Breathe with me.” Eddie whispered, pressing his forehead to the side of Steve’s. “I know you’re scared, I know. But just do it with me, okay? It’ll help. In and out… In.. And out.”

His breaths were ragged. His eyes were locked on Wyne and Doc in the doorway, real. Alive. Slowly, with trembling control, he began to mimic Eddie’s slow, deep inhales and calm exhales. Just like Eddie asked, in… Out.. In… Out.. Unnecessary but calming.

“I’ve got you.” Eddie said again, softer now. “You’re safe. You’re not alone. You’re not there.. I’ve got you sweetheart.”

Steve’s body finally began to loosen. His wrists, red from the strain, slackened in Eddie’s grip. His shoulders dropped. His head tipped back, resting against Eddie’s collarbone.

And then he whispered. “Sorry.” His throat felt raw, his body still wired with residual panic. He sucked in another jagged breath.

Eddie held him tighter, kissed the side of his head. “Don’t. Don’t apologize.”

Wayne stepped forward now, finally moving into the room, but slow, as if approaching a wounded animal. His voice was low, rough. “You okay, son?”

Steve closed his eyes, another breath shuddering out of him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He whispers barely loud enough for Wayne or Doc to hear.

“You didn’t.” Wayne lied, gently. His voice was soft, but the truth still clung to the corners of his expression- the way his hands still trembled, clenched around his pistol, the crease in his brow that hadn’t yet faded.

Behind Steve, Eddie slowly unwrapped his arms from around him, careful and unrushed. He didn’t pull away entirely, just shifted so they were both sitting upright, Steve tucked against his chest, the steady weight of Eddie’s arms now more protective than restraining.

Steve didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But he wasn’t flinching away either. That was something.

Eddie looked up then, gaze flickering between Wayne and Doc- both still lingering by the door, pajama-clad and wide-eyed. A beat passed in the quiet tension before Eddie lifted a brow, lips twitching with effort as he tried to shake the heaviness of the moment.

“So…” Eddie said, dryly. “Are you two having a slumber party, or do you have some type of teleportation power now, Wayne?”

Doc let out a slow breath, and Wayne’s narrowed eyes twitched into a smile.

“Haven’t left the place much since you two came back again.” Wayne admitted, rubbing his free hand over his jaw. “Figured I’d keep close. Just in case.” His voice softened. “Didn’t feel right sleepin’ too far away.”

Steve’s fingers clenched slightly around Eddie’s, but he didn’t say anything.

“Didn’t miss much.” Doc added, shotgun now held loosely. “Been quiet until now.” He nodded once toward Steve, his eyes gentler now. “I expected this at the beginning. But there’s no timeline on healing… But you’re safe now, you know. You both are. Nothing’s getting to you down here.”

Eddie tightened his arms, just a little, around Steve, a soft squeeze. “See? You’re surrounded by grumpy old men with overprotective instincts. Pretty sure nothing gets past them.. Or the security system.”

Wayne rolled his eyes. “Better than being surrounded by two overgrown puppies who can punch through solid concrete and still act like they need supervision.”

That coaxed something out of Steve- a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh, but wasn’t broken either.

Wayne let his lips uptick at that, voice warm. “Though I suppose puppies ain’t the most accurate.”

There was a long pause before Steve finally rasped, “I thought I was back there.”

“I know.” Eddie whispered, pressing his forehead lightly to the side of Steve’s. “But you’re not. You’re here. You’re with me. With us.”

Wayne stepped forward, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn’t try to reach out, just stayed close. “Next time.” He said gently. “Just yell, blow out the wall if you need to.” Doc let out a low grumble. “Don’t need to go tryin’ to rip Eds into.. ShrEds.” He joked.

Steve’s lips curled weakly. “..Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Wayne shook his head. “I’d rather be terrified and here, than not here at all.”

Silence settled again, but it was softer this time. Eddie kept one hand tangled loosely with Steve’s, and Wayne didn’t move from the bed. The three of them sat in that quiet for a while- not in fear anymore, though it lingered. But in the shared calm that only comes after weathering a storm. Together.

Steve’s body was still trembling faintly, the last threads of the nightmare slowly unraveling inside him, but his eyes were beginning to flutter with the weight of exhaustion again. His breathing had evened out, slower, steadier, though he didn’t quite fall under.

Wayne stood slowly, casting one last glance toward them. His eyes lingered, full of something unreadable- grief, maybe, but softened now with something more peaceful. Doc gave a short, quiet nod toward Eddie, and then the two of them backed out of the room, shutting the door with a soft click behind them.

Eddie didn’t move, just let the silence settle again.

After a while, he softly started to hum- something low and wordless, familiar. A melody without a name, just a sound to fill the air.

He laid back with Steve curled against him, adjusting them gently until they were stretched across the mattress again, Steve’s limbs tangled loosely around his own. One of Steve’s legs hooked over his, and his fingers slid up and over Eddie’s chest in slow, sleepy, exhausted drags.

Eddie’s humming didn’t stop. If anything, it got softer.

Steve’s hand eventually stilled, fingertips resting just over the tattoo inked into Eddie’s skin- the one just above his heart. He didn’t press, didn’t trace it. Just stayed there, holding the spot like it was sacred.

A small smile pulled at his lips, barely there, but genuine. Not entirely peaceful, but closer to it than he’d been in days. His head nestled into the crook of Eddie’s arm, breath warm when it ghosted across skin.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Eddie whispered, eyes flicking down to him.

Steve didn’t open his eyes, but he gave a faint nod, his voice muffled but honest. “Yeah.. Just.. Can we stay like this.. For a while?”

Eddie leaned down and pressed a kiss into his hair. “As long as you want. I’m not going anywhere.” He tilted his head slightly and returned to his quiet humming. A soft, soothing rhythm that settled into the spaces between them.

He cracked one eye open, blinking slowly like he wasn’t quite sure he was awake. The faintest smile touched the corner of his mouth as he lifted his hand and let his fingers begin to wander- slow, lazy steps across Eddie’s chest. Each fingertip landed with a gentle tap-tap-tap over scarred and smooth skin alike, the motion unhurried, aimless, comforting.

Eddie didn’t stop humming. Just smiled a little at the touch and let one hand slide in slow, calming circles across Steve’s back. He pressed his palm in just a little, letting him know he was there, a steady pressure.

Steve’s fingers drifted lower, tracing a soft path down Eddie’s bicep until he found the familiar shapes inked into skin. He started to follow the lines of the bats, slowly, like he was mapping something holy with touch alone. The hum between the bond was low and steady, like a quiet purr of a heartbeat just beneath the surface. Constant. Present. Safe.

Eddie’s voice faltered for a second when he felt it- not Steve’s fingers, but the sound of him. He had started to hum too, barely audible at first, just under his breath. But it was there. Their voices tangled together, imperfectly synced but in a harmony all their own.

Their air was still, but full. Full of the soft sound of humming, the quiet rhythm of two hands moving across skin, and the shared silence of a love that didn’t need to be spoken out loud to be understood.

Eddie let his head tilt toward Steve. His eyes were still closed, but the smile he wore was real. Gentle. Full of so much aching fondness it barely fit inside him.

Steve didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

They just stayed there like that- humming together in the quiet, fingers tracing patterns across each other’s skin, the bond between them pulsing softly. For a few precious moments, the world outside didn’t matter anymore.

Only this did. Only they did.

---

Steve laughed, the sound echoing off the concrete walls as his back slammed into them, a web of cracks spreading out like a badge of pride. Eddie’s grin was feral and unrepentant as he lunged again, clearly not letting up, eyes shining with mischief.

But Steve was faster this time.

He caught Eddie by the wrist mid-swing and yanked him forward- just hard enough to catch him off balance- and planted a quick, breathless kiss to his lips. Eddie’s eyes widened for a second, distracted by the affection long enough for Steve to pivot, crouch, and flip him straight over his shoulder. Eddie hit the mat with a grunt, landing flat on his back in a tangle of limbs and hair.

From the bench near the door, Wayne and Doc glanced over from their hushed conversation. Doc’s brow lifted slightly, while Wayne just shook his head, fighting off a fond smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. But they didn’t say anything.

Back on the mats, Steve bounced once on the balls of his feet, grinning. His shirt clung to him, drenched with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead, but his eyes were alive- glowing even. Eddie let out a mock growl and sprang up, faking left, then sweeping low in an attempt to knock Steve’s legs out from under him.

But Steve was ready. With a sharp burst of momentum, he sprang up, flipping backwards into a one-handed cartwheel. He landed effortlessly on his feet, laughing, just barely tettering from the force of it.

“You are so lucky Wayne’s here.” Eddie muttered through a grin, already lunging again.

This time, Eddie barreled into his waist and the two of them tumbled back together, colliding with the mat on the far side of the room in a heap of tangled limbs and low groans.

“You’re such a dick!” Steve wheezed, not even pretending to sound mad. He twisted, caught a loose grip on Eddie’s waistband, and used the leverage to send him flying backwards again- Eddie half-spinning through the air before landing flat with a soft thud.

Eddie lay there for a second, staring up at the ceiling, chest heaving though he wasn’t actually taking in any air. Then he started laughing, that same loud, unfiltered sound that made Steve notice him all those years ago, running through a cafeteria he could hardly remember.

He dropped down beside Eddie, both of them staring up at the, now, cracked ceiling as the overhead lights flickered faintly. Their hands found each other in the space between them, fingers curling together like magnets drawn across some invisible line.

From the bench, Wayne murmured something to Doc, who gave a faint nod in return. Whatever they were saying, it wasn’t important right now- not to him, not to Eddie.

Not right now.

Right now, it was just them- sweat soaked, bruised, breathless from laughter instead of pain.

The rough texture of the mat dug gently into his spine as he shifted onto his side to face Eddie.

Eddie who mirrored him, eyes soft now despite the adrenaline still thrumming through their bodies. Their hands stayed linked between them, fingers lazily toying at the edge of knuckles and calluses, neither of them in a rush to move.

“You good?” He kept his voice low, a little raspy from all the exertion.

Eddie’s smile was slow, honest. “I’m perfect.” And he meant it.

He slowly let his eyes drift over Eddie, a toothy grin lighting up his face. “Yeah you are.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and for a moment. They just laid there in the silence- until Wayne’s boots creaked against the concrete as he stood from the bench. Doc followed a second later, folding his arms loosely across his chest, clipboard still in one hand.

Wayne’s voice was quiet but carried loud enough for their ears. “We’re heading to the kitchen. Gonna make something to drink. You two coming?”

Eddie tilted his head up, calling back just loud enough. “Give us five.”

Wayne gave a small nod, eyes meeting Steve’s for just a second. Something unspoken passed between them- a reassurance, a quiet understanding. Then he and Doc disappeared out of the door, footsteps and the quiet clack of a cane slowly fading into the hallway.

As soon as they were alone again, he rolled onto his back, tugging Eddie’s hand until he followed and lay half-draped over him, head resting on Steve’s chest.

The bond between them purred gently- nothing overwhelming, just warmth and calm, like the echo of laughter after it fades. Eddie closed his eyes, letting his ear press into the current steady thrum of Steve’s chest. His heart beat slowly, calming.

“I missed this.” Eddie murmured, words half-lost in the fabric.

He ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair, brushing damp curls back. “Missed what? Me kicking your ass while sparing?”

Eddie snorted. “Missed you. Like this. Happy. Whole.” He lifted his head just enough to look up at him. “You know, if you ever wanted to stop punching me and kiss me again, I wouldn’t object.”

A soft snort as he gave a gentle tug to Eddie’s hair. “You mean I have options?”

“You always have options sweetheart. Just none of them are as good as me.”

Steve laughed then, soft and light, and leaned down to brush their mouths together- brief, gentle. A thank-you in the form of a kiss.

They stayed like that for a long moment- tangled together on the mat, the room still and quiet except for the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead and the distant creak of the chairs down the hall as Wayne and Doc sat down.

Eventually, he nudged Eddie with his knee. “Think they’re gonna come back in here if we take too long?”

“Probably.”

“Should we move?”

Eddie pretended to think about it. “Nah. They’ll just assume we’re making out again.”

He rolled his eyes. “We left a note last time. They can’t hold it against us.”

“Yeah, and it worked. See? Communication. They didn’t chase us down.” He tapped Steve’s chest lightly with two fingers. “Healthy vampire relationship behavior.”

Steve huffed out another laugh. “Idiot.”

“Yours.”

A quiet beat. Then:

Steve laced their fingers together again. “Yeah.. Mine.”

They lay there for a little while longer- bodies sore, hearts full, the faint echo of their bond still thrumming strong between them.

Quietly Eddie added. “I mean we weren’t gone long but I did miss not having to hold back… Wayne’s furniture is a little breakable. Didn’t wanna accidentally throw you through a wall or break the bed frame.”

Steve hummed, bringing their hands up to place a kiss on the back of Eddie’s. “Yeah.. Think we can ask Doc to reinforce the house? Maybe at least get him to supply some vampire proof beds?”

Eddie’s smile was soft, tired, but genuine. “Yeah.. Vampire-proof furniture. Sounds like a plan.” He squeezed Steve’s hand gently.

“I did miss this too though, the quiet down here. You’re right. We weren’t gone long. But, just us, no pretending or holding back. It’s… Good, y’know? Didn’t realize we’d have to be so careful back out there. I wasn’t.. I don’t think I thought much about it, before.”

They stayed like that for a moment, the hum of their bond warming between them, a steady current comfort and unspoken promises.

Eddie’s fingers traced lazy circles on the back of Steve’s hand. “We’ve got time now. Time to fix what’s broken. Time to just.. Be..”

Steve’s gaze darkened, just a touch, the weight of the past years lingering behind his eyes. “Yeah.. Time to make new memories. No more hiding.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s knuckles, voice quiet but fierce. “No more hiding. No more running either.”

Slowly, reluctantly, they rose from the mats, the ache of their muscles mingling with a sense of quiet resolve that had settled deep in their bones. Their footsteps were soft but sure as they moved, fingers still intertwined, toward the kitchen. The air thick with unspoken thoughts and the weight of what lay ahead.

At the kitchen table, two mugs waited, steam curling lazily upward, the rich scent of warm blood filling the space.

Steve eased into his chair, knee gently knocking Eddie’s as he mirrored the movement, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, eyes softening.

As they lifted their mugs, the bond flickered alive between them- not just a link but a conversation whispered in shared silence.

Steve’s voice brushed through the bond first, tentative, carrying the weight of careful consideration. -I’ve been thinning… Maybe… We could let Dustin and Robin know? Or at least.. Be the first to know?- Eddie responded immediately, the warmth of his agreement blossoming between them. ‘Yeah. But uh.. Those two.. They’re terrible at keeping secrets. So we tell them, we’d have to let everyone know soon after. I mean Henderson just came right out and told me about the Upside Down. And Buckley’s a nervous wreck, sometimes.’ A teasing edge softened the thought, as if that inevitability made the whole thing a little less daunting.

Their shared laughter was quiet, mingling seamlessly with the simple, steady act of drinking, the taste grounding- a small, necessary comfort in a world still shifting beneath their feet.

After a long pause, Steve’s voice cut through the quiet again, firmer this time, laced both with nervousness and resolve.

“We.. Want to see them again. Just uh.. Not everyone at once. Maybe just.. Dustin and Robin. Just the two of them, to start. No big group. No pressure. Just… Them.”

Across the table, Wayne and Doc exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of relief, hope, and unspoken caution.

Doc spoke up first. “While I am glad you’d like to try and get back something normal.. I’m not sure we should do it here. The less people who know about this place, the safer it is.”

Wayne nodded, but hurried to speak before either of them could interrupt. “Can’t just say ‘hey come over Steve and Eds are alive’ but.. I can invite them over to the house if you’d like. Wouldn’t be too unusual.” He nodded to himself. “Could say I found something from Steve’s room I thought he’d want them to have.”

“Oh..” Steve nodded. “Yeah that.. That works.” He turned to Eddie.

Eddie nodded as well. “Yeah we can.. Yeah. Maybe.. Maybe this weekend? Gives us a few days to prepare for it.. Mentally.”

Wayne gave a short, thoughtful nod, taking a long sip from his own mug. “This weekend then. I’ll call ‘em tomorrow. Tell ‘em I was cleaning out Steve’s closet finally and found something I thought they’d want. Shouldn’t raise any flags.”

Across from him, Steve pressed his palms against the cool table. The nerves had started to creep in, winding their way up his spine and lodging somewhere in his throat. His eyes flicked toward Eddie, searching for reassurance. -You think they’ll freak out?- He gently pushed through the bond.

Eddie’s fingers tapped restlessly against his mug, but he looked up at Steve, something steadier in his eyes than he felt. ‘Yeah.. But not in a bad way. Robin might cry. Dustin definitely will. I don’t think they’ll be mad just.. Shocked.’

A weak smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “God what if they are mad though?” He mumbled aloud, voice soft. “It’s been four years, Eds. Four. Years. What if they moved on and now we’re just-”

“They won’t have moved on from us.” Eddie cut in gently. He reached over the table nudging Steve’s hand with his knuckles until their fingers laced together again. “They’ll be shocked, yeah. But I’m sure they’ll be happy. And if they’re not-” He shrugged, smiling even though his thumb was trembling where it brushed over Steve’s knuckle. “Then we still have each other. Still have Wayne. Still got Doc, even if he’s a grumpy couch hiding bastard.”

“That’s Dr. Grumpy Couch Hiding Bastard to you.” Doc muttered from next to the sink with a smirk.

Eddie shot him a grin, but the tension didn’t fully ease. It just softened around the edges, made more bearable by the warmth pressing against his palm.

Wayne leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. His voice was softer now, thoughtful. “We can start small. Just Robin and Dustin. You control the pace. I can be in the other room, or close by. Whatever you boys need.”

He nodded, barely, and let out something between a laugh and a sigh. “Gotta admit… I do like that it’s happening in your house. It.. It smells like home there.”

Wayne gave a quiet hum, like the sound meant more than words ever could. His expression softened as he looked at Steve, gaze warm and a little glassy. “Well… It is home, kid. Always was.”

He blinked hard, throat bobbing around something thick and wordless. Next to him, Eddie gently squeezed his hand once- just enough to remind him he wasn’t floating too far away. That he was still here. Still grounded.

‘You okay?’ Eddie pushed through softly, brushing his thumb along the inside of his wrist.

-Yeah.- He answered, though even his thoughts sounded raw. -I just.. I didn’t think we’d ever get to say any of this out loud.. Didn’t think we’d get the chance to see them again.-

Wayne sat back in his chair with a quiet sigh. “You boys don’t owe them anythin’, you know that? Not a single explanation. Not a performance. Just… Be yourselves. That’s more than enough.”

Eddie nodded at that, rubbing at his cheek before giving Wayne a crooked smile. “Guess I better find a shirt without bloodstains, huh?”

Wayne chuckled. “Don’t go changin’ too much. Wouldn’t want ‘em thinkin; you’ve matured or anything.”

Steve actually laughed, the sound easing out of him like a long-forgotten song. It wasn’t loud, but it was real. And when he looked over at Eddie- hair a mess, shirt half rucked up, dried flecks of red near the collar- it struck him that this version of his life, chaotic and undead as it was, somehow still felt more like him than the one he’d left behind.

-We can do this.- He sent the words spiraling through the bond, not quite a question.

Eddie’s response came with a firm, unwavering thrum. ‘Yeah we can… Together.’

Wayne watched them quietly for a moment longer, then pushed to his feet, collecting their now-empty mugs. “Alright then. You boys think about what you wanna say and I’ll take care of the rest. You’ve got a few days. There’s no rush.”

Steve leaned forward, folding his arms on the table as he watched Wayne rinse out the mugs, the comfort of routine. Eddie, still seated beside him, draped his arm across the back of Steve’s chair and rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

Outside, the world was still waiting.

But for now, they had a plan.

And they had each other.

Chapter 32: Many Meetings

Summary:

“Can we speak to them?” Eleven had, very quietly, asked.

The room went silent again. As if everyone had collectively held their breath.

Notes:

There is some smut in this chapter.
Starts with ‘he scrubbed the towel over his hair’
and ends with ‘Eddie’s hands were gentle’ after the horizontal line.

The days flew by quickly. They’d planned. Rehearsed. Talked through it until the words lost all meaning.

But nothing could prepare them for this.

Down the hallway, tucked just around the corner from the living room, Steve and Eddie stood frozen. Neither spoke audibly. They didn’t dare. Not when their hearts felt like they might beat through their chests.

‘Steve… Steve, I don’t think I can do this.’ Eddie’s voice threaded through the bond like a frayed wire, strained and vibrating. His hands twisted together, nervous and shaking, claws half-bared from stress. He was pacing in slow, silent steps- like every movement kept him from unraveling.

Steve wasn’t doing much better. He stood still, shoulders tense, as if movement would shatter the fragile calm he was clinging to. But his gaze stayed fixed ahead. On the faint, though to their ears it was booming, sounds drifting from the living room. A stiff laugh. The shuffle of Wayne’s movement as he ‘searched’ through a box for Steve’s things. Robin’s soft chatter. Dustin’s unmistakable cadence.

Familiar voices. Ones they didn’t understand how deeply they’d truly missed.

He closed his eyes, inhaling a breath he didn’t need just to steady the tremor in his spine. Then, he finally responded, low and steady, but soft enough to crack if Eddie pushed too hard. -Hey… It’s gonna be alright. I’ll go first. Just like with Wayne. It’ll be okay. I’ll give you a signal and you’ll come out, alright?-

Eddie stopped pacing. He didn’t turn to look, but his hands dropped to his sides. Still trembling, but clawless.

He slowly stepped closer, reaching out to rest his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. The touch was feather-light but grounding. The bond between them thrummed low and constant, a tether in the dark.

And still, neither moved.

Their fear wasn’t just being seen. It was being seen and not recognized. Of being seen and grieved for all over again.

Of being rejected.

He could feel it from Eddie, but it echoed right back from deep within himself too- What if they don’t recognize us? What if they look at us like we’re monsters? What if this ruins everything we still have left?

What if they’ve moved on?

But he swallowed it down. For both of them.

Down the hall, Wayne’s voice drifted again, almost theatrical now. “I know I put it in here. You’d think after all this time I could keep track of somethin’ like this.”

He was giving them the time they needed, but it was running out.

Eddie finally turned, eyes wide and uncertain. Steve gave him the smallest of nods. -It’s time.- He pressed through, barely louder than a whisper. -We’re here. We made it. Let’s go see our friends.-

As he took that first shaky step forward, his hand slipped from Eddie’s shoulder- slow and reluctant, like the weight of letting go was too much to carry. The loss of contact was immediate, a phantom echo where warmth had been. Panic radiating through the bond. But it was time. He had to do this.

On silent footsteps, Steve made his way down the hall, shoulder brushing the wall as if he needed it to hold himself up. -One after the other… Left. Right. Left. Right.- The words repeated in his head like a mantra. A rhythm. A desperate focus to block out the deafening thud of fear behind his ribs.

He reached the edge of the hall and stopped, breathing cutting off, too heavy to continue.

Peaking around the corner, his chest seized. There they were. Dustin and Robin. It was undeniable now. Sitting casually on one of the couches like nothing had changed. Like the world hadn’t fallen apart, hadn’t cracked open. Like he hadn’t disappeared.

Robin’s legs were tucked beneath her, hands curled around a mug Wayne must’ve given her. Dustin was half-lounging beside her, gesturing animatedly as he recounted something that made her snort mid-sip. The sound was so normal it felt like it punched the air from his lungs entirely.

His fingers twitched where they hovered near the wall. He hadn’t realized how tightly he was holding himself together until he saw them. Alive. Safe. Still… Them. And was.. Was Dustin wearing a polo?

He looked up, eyes locking with Wayne’s across the room. Wayne’s expression was unreadable for a moment, then it softened into something steady, something warm. Steve gave one, small, solid nod.

It was time.

Wayne turned toward the two of them, dusting his hands off with a quiet sigh. “Well.” He began, voice light but thick beneath the surface. “I gotta be honest with you two. What I have is… I don’t really have the words for it.”

Robin tilted her head, he just knew she had that look on her face. The one that says, ‘yeah, speak to me in plain english here, I don’t understand’. “What do you mean? Is it.. Bad?”

Wayne shook his head gently. “What I mean is, I’m real sorry for that.” He then looked past them, to Steve.

His feet moved before he could stop them. Before he could think about his actions. Slowly, silently. He stepped out from behind the wall and around the staircase, into full view.

The world felt like it held its breath.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hi.” He said softly, voice fragile.

Their reactions were instant- like someone had detonated something invisible.

Dustin whipped around so fast his neck audibly cracked. Robin turned sharply, eyes wide, her mouth already parting with something between a gasp and a cry. The mug slipped from her hand, bouncing off the edge of the couch and falling to the rug with a dull thud.

He flinched, but didn’t move.

They stared at him.

Frozen.

Like they weren’t sure he was real. And maybe he wasn’t. He still wasn’t entirely sure of that himself.

Shock, grief, disbelief- every emotion Steve could imagine twisted across their faces. Like they were seeing a ghost. And maybe, in a way, they were.

Robin stood first. Her knees bucked halfway through the motion, and she caught herself on the arm of the couch, hand flying to her mouth.

“Oh my God.” Her voice was cracked and small.

“S-Steve?” Dustin’s voice broke entirely on his name, disbelief warping into something desperate.

Steve’s chin trembled. He nodded.

“I’m here,” he whispered, and it came out hoarse. “I’m really… I’m really here.”

Then they were moving. Robin stumbled toward him, half-falling into his arms. Dustin slammed into his side a second later, his arms wrapping around Steve’s waist so tightly he thought the kid developed his own super strength.

They clung to him like he’d disappear if they blinked too fast. Like he wasn’t real.

Steve was shaking. His hands gripped the back of their shirts, knuckles white. His head dropped between their shoulders, and he let out a shocked sound that might’ve been a laugh. Or maybe it was a sob. He wasn’t sure.

“I.. I missed you.” He whispered, again and again, voice breaking. “I missed you both so much.”

Behind them, still hidden in the shadows of the hallway, Eddie stood silently watching- chest tight, hands trembling where they hung at his sides.

He clung to them like he’d drown if he let go. His fingers curled into the rough fabric of, and he definitely was wearing one, Dustin’s polo. His other hand curling around the edges of Robin’s jacket.

Robin had one hand first in the back of his shirt, the other buried in his hair, like she was grounding herself just as much as she was holding him close. Dustin’s arms were wrapped so tightly around Steve’s middle it was a wonder his ribs hadn’t yet caved in, forehead pressed into his shoulder.

No one spoke again. Not for a long while.

Just the sound of broken, stuttering breaths and muffled cries against fabric. Steve let his eyes clench shut. He could hear their heartbeats pounding, could smell the salt of their tears, their heartbreak and fear. He pressed his face into Robin’s hair, his hand moving to cradle the back of Dustin’s head.

It felt so real.

It felt too real.

And maybe that’s what finally made it start to splinter.

Bit by bit, they began to pull back, to untangle themselves. Not all the way- not fully- but enough to see him. To look at him.

Robin’s hands slid over to cup either side of his face, thumbs brushing the corners of his eyes like she was checking to see if he was real. Her own eyes were glassy, red-rimmed.

“You’re-” She breathed, voice trembling. “You’re really here. I don’t- how-?”

Dustin was less composed. He swiped at his face furiously with his wrist, trying to contain the tears still streaming down his cheeks. He was blinking rapidly, like maybe this was a hallucination and he needed to convince himself otherwise.

“How are you-” his voice cracked. He tried again, words stumbling out in a rush. “How are you here? We-We looked everywhere for you. Everywhere! They said- Jesus, they said you were gone! You and Eddie gone and- where-? Where the hell have you been?!”

He flinched at Eddie’s name.

Robin noticed.

But she didn’t ask. Not yet. Instead she just reached for his hand and held it tightly in hers, her fingers trembling.

Dustin had stepped back only slightly, but one hand was still curled into the fabric of Steve’s sleeve, refusing to let go. His other gripping Steve’s hand like a lifeline. His expression was a war of relief and confusion and grief all tangled together.

“We looked,” he said, voice barely holding itself together. “We looked for you. Until they made us stop. I-I knew it didn’t feel right, but they wouldn’t let us keep going and-”

“I know.” Steve whispered. “I know, kid. I wanted to get back, to come back. I did. We.. Tried. We tried so hard.”

Tears welled up in Robin’s eyes again.

From the kitchen, Wayne stood silently with one hand gripping tightly the edge of the counter, eyes shining. He didn’t say a word. He just let them have their moment.

He wouldn’t interrupt this.

Because this- this was everything they’d all lost.

And now, somehow, they had it all back.

Steve squeezed their hands tighter, blinking back his own tears.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked. “I’m so, so sorry it took me this long.”

Dustin shook his head almost violently, moving back in to wrap him up again, this time more careful, but no less fierce. Robin followed suit, arms around both of them now. “Don’t do it again dingus.” She wetly whispered.

Steve let himself sink into it.

Safe.

Not whole- not yet.

But closer than they’d been in four. Long. Years.

After another beat of silence, Robin’s quiet whisper broke through.

“We?”

“Hmm?” He pulled back slightly, to look down at her.

“You said.. You said ‘we tried so hard’. Whose ‘we’?”

He didn’t answer, this was all up to Eddie now. He had the chance to walk away if he wanted to.

Dustin’s arms stayed locked around him, the fabric of his shirt bunched tightly into shaking fists. His breath came in shallow bursts, trembling against Steve’s shoulder, trying so hard not to fall apart again, even as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Steve swallowed hard. He brought his back back up, gentle fingers threading through Dustin’s curls, the other rubbing slow circles on Robin’s back.

Then, from the hallway, came the soft sound only he could hear. Quiet footsteps, a rhythm he knew by heart now.

Slowly, Steve pulled back. A quiet desperate noise leaving Dustin as he did. Robin’s grip moving to his hand, desperate not to let go again. “We..” He began.

A nervous, uneven, heavy exhale came from behind them, cutting him off.

Then, a voice- quiet, terrified.

“...Hi.”

Robin tensed. Dustin’s head snapped up at Steve.

He turned away, loosening his grip on the two of them as Robin moved around him to look, her eyes growing wide. She took a shaky step back.

Eddie stood just past the archway, his body half-conceled by the stairs. His hands were jammed into his pockets, stiff as stone. He slowly pulled a hand out, giving a little wave. An awkward, uncertain motion. He managed the smallest, wobbliest smile.

Dustin slowly looked past Steve.

He let out a quiet gasp that echoed in their ears.

And then he was moving.

A sob tore from his throat as he bolted across the living room. He slammed into Eddie’s chest so hard it made the both of them stumble back, Eddie’s arms catching him out of reflex. Dustin clung to him, fists bunching up the back of Eddie’s hoodie like he was terrified this was a dream.

“You were dead!” His voice cracked as he sobbed. “You were dead Eddie! Your heart stopped! You.. In my arms you! You!.. You died!” He cried, tears soaking the sweatshirt.

“..I know.” Eddie whispered brokenly, his voice shaking as his arms closed tightly around Dustin. “I know.. I know but I’m here, okay? I’m here.” He tried to hold himself together.

Robin didn’t move at first. She just stood there, hand over his mouth, eyes full of disbelief and tears. She glanced at Steve, then Eddie, then back to Steve. After some decision in her head, she finally walked over- slowly- eyes never leaving Eddie.

When she reached him, she hesitated.

Eddie opened his other arm for her.

And then she was there too, wrapping both of them in a fierce, trembling hug. Her face pressed against Eddie’s shoulder. “You absolute dumbass.” She whispered thickly, laughing through tears. “You just couldn’t stay dead like a normal person, could you?”

Steve gave a watery laugh behind them, finally stepping closer. “Tried to tell him that.”

Eddie huffed, bringing his face down to Dustin’s head, letting his scent wash over him. “Yeah well.. Freak. Remember?” Was his shaky reply.

Steve quickly came up behind the two, wrapping his arms around all three of them.

They stood there for a long while, the four of them tangled in each other like they were holding together something fragile, something precious. The air was thick with the weight of four years worth of pain, guilt, and grief. But also with something else.

Hope.

Eventually Robin pulled back, just a little. Eyes still red-rimmed. She looked at Steve again, her brows furrowing. “You better have a damn good explanation you.. You.. I..” She grabbed him again in another tight hug. “I missed you.” She whispered.

After a heartbeat, he slowly let his arms come back up to wrap around her. “I missed you too, Robs.” He whispered back, clutching her jacket. “And I promise, we’ll explain everything.”

---

It took time, but eventually they all pulled apart again.

Tears were dried- though just barely. They hovered just one wrong word away from falling again. Faces were washed and looking a little less puffy. No one had said much, just the quiet cleaning up of broken people.

Eventually they all managed to crowd back into the living room, returning to some semblance of comfort. Dustin and Robin had settled back into their seats, hands wrapped around mismatched mugs of Wayne’s cinnamon-spiced hot chocolate. Wayne was in his recliner once more, a coffee cooling in his own mug as he watched over them all with quiet, tired eyes.

Steve and Eddie sat in their usual spot on their couch- the same place they’d curled up in before, in the safety that is Wayne’s house. Now, they weren’t quite curled into each other, not in a way that would draw attention, but there was a subtle magnetism between them. The way their knees brushed. The way Eddie’s fingers would drift, almost unconsciously, to the back of Steve’s hand. A slow, grounding touch. Just enough to confirm the other was still there. Still alive.

Steve had to glance at the calendar twice, just to confirm he could read. That this wasn’t a dream. That this was real.

They both had a mug of warm blood in their hands, steam curling from the surface. It was almost mundane. Familiar… Almost.

It took a while- and two more refills of hot drinks- but eventually, they began to tell their stories. Not all of it. Not the darkest parts, not the sharpest horrors, not yet. Just enough to thread a fragile understanding between the five of them. Fractured pieces. Partial memories. Blurred edges filled in with soft glances and whispered reassurances only their ears could hear.

“So you’re telling me..” Dustin’s voice was quiet, almost childlike as he clutched his mug with both hands. He looked down into the hot chocolate like it might give him a different answer this time. “That you didn’t even know how long you were gone?”

For some reason he kept focusing on that. Not the fact Steve now had his own superpowers. Not on the fact that Eddie too was a vampire. Not even on the fact that they’d killed dozens of people. Or that they’ve been living in a cabin in the woods with a stranger.

But on the simple fact of time.

Steve didn’t answer right away. He looked down at his own hands- pale against the dark mug, knuckles tight- and just nodded. A slow, almost ashamed movement.

“Yeah…” Eddie’s voice picked up where Steve’s silence left off. He shrugged, trying to sound casual, but his shoulders were too tense for it to land. “We uh.. We’ve been trying not to think about it too much.”

He leaned into Steve, more than he should have, but he needed the comfort. And it was enough for Robin to notice.

Robin sat back slowly in her seat, eyes narrowing- not with suspicion, but something else. Curiosity. Familiarity. Concern. Her gaze moved between them, pausing just a second too long on the way Steve’s pinky hooked around Eddie’s on the cushion between them. On the way Steve shifted closer every time Eddie adjusted. On the fact that neither of them had breathed in a long while- as if they were afraid that if they moved too fast, the moment might break.

She knew. Or, at least, she suspected.

But Steve knew she knew. He could feel her stare like a spotlight. But he didn’t dare look up at her- not yet. Instead, he took another sip of blood and focused on the fire in the bond between them. Comforting. Reassuring. Still with the edge of fear.

Wayne caught Robin’s gaze. He didn’t say anything. Just gave her a subtle nod, almost imperceptible. A gesture that said: Let them come to you.

Robin sat back again, arms crossed loosely, mug resting on her knee. “So,” she started lightly, like she wasn’t about to go digging. “Four years in a lab from hell, super strength, fangs, psychic power and- what- the two of you just… Live out in the woods now? Like retired vampires?”

Eddie grinned faintly. “Yeah, we’re working on our old man shuffle and everything.”

Steve snorted softly, finally glancing at Robin. She still had that knowing glint in her eyes. “Dustin’s the one freaking out about the timeline.” He muttered, a little defensive, a little flustered.

“I’m just saying!” Dustin piped up, wiping at his face again, though the tears had long since dried now. “It’s insane. It’s like…” He shrugged. “I don’t know! Someone just snapped their fingers and now you’re back and.. And the world moved on without you and I-..” He stopped, his voice cracking. “..We. We didn’t.”

Silence settled again. He was right. They hadn’t moved on. Not really.

Eddie’s hand found Steve’s again on the cushion, this time without hesitation. They didn’t even bother hiding it.

Robin’s eyes zeroed in on their hands, then flicked up to Steve’s face. She went to open her mouth but was quickly cut off by Dustin.

“Are you two dating?” He suddenly asked, bluntly, as if asking the weather.

They both froze. Hearts picking up. Shoulders tensing. The urge to bolt rising.

Their panic wasn’t visible. But between them. It screamed.

-Shits.. Shit!-
‘Do we.. Should we lie?’
-No. No, he knows.. Look at him.-
‘What if it changes things?’
-It’s Dustin.-
‘But what if-’

Their thoughts pushed through rapidly. The pulse of fear echoed between them, all too familiar now. They knew they had to be careful. Relationships like theirs needed to be discreet. Whispered words. Back alley truths. Nothing certain. Nothing safe.

And then- like someone dialed up the volume on a radio- Dustin’s rambling voice broke through the tangle of fear and panic.

“Because if you are, that’s totally cool with me! Totally cool with the whole party actually! Well Mike might bitch about Eddie dating a jock but, Will came out to everyone a while ago and.. Oh man I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, but it’s you guys! And you’re cool and Wayne’s cool with it and.. Well Hopper had to smack Mike upside the head because he was a little dumb about it but he’s cool with it too!”

He sucked in a deep breath and continued, undeterred by their silence.

“And Robin came out to everyone too and we had cake and she talked about how you two knew and how it was cool and we were all like ohhh so that’s what you were doing in the mall bathroom and-”

“Dustin!” Robin cut in, a small smile on her lips.

Steve let out a slow breath, Eddie did too. Their bond slowly calming. Smoothed over. Warm.

Like ice melting in the sun.

“Yeah.” Steve whispered, giving Eddie’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Robin and Dustin turned to look at them then. Eddie slowly brought their joined shaking hands to his lips, kissing the back of Steve’s.

“Yeah. We’re together.” Steve continued, a weak smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“I’m happy for you dingus, and you too.” She nodded towards Eddie with a crooked grin.

Steve blinked, and Eddie did too. They both seemed unsure what to say to that.

Robin leaned forward, mug back in hand. She ignored the panic she knew they had to be feeling, the same one she’d felt with Steve, with the Party. “I mean, yeah, it’s terrifying. Everything you’ve been through. The fact you both now have fangs and eat blood for breakfast which, it’s been four years and I still haven’t gotten over that for you Steve but..” She shrugged, her voice softening. “You’re here. And you’re happy. Or at least.. You’re trying.”

Steve looked down at their joined hands. Then over to Eddie. Then, finally, he nodded.

“We are.”

And for the first time in four years, it felt like the beginning of something real.

---

Dustin and Robin had stayed as long as they could. Longer than they had expected, really.

There’d been lunch-

The kitchen was warm with the soft clatter of plates and the low hiss of something cooking on the stovetop. Wayne stood by the counter, flipping slices of bacon in a pan while Steve sliced tomatoes with practiced ease, a quiet rhythm forming between them. There wasn’t much talk- there didn’t need to be. Just the occasional brush of an elbow or a glance across the kitchen when one of them reached for the salt or passed a plate.

At the circular table just a few feet away, Eddie lounged in one of the wooden chairs, legs hooked casually around its base as he picked at a bag of chips. Dustin was across from him, hunched slightly. Robin sat to Dustin’s left, her foot nudging his under the table wherever she caught him zoning out too long.

Wayne turned from the stove with a quiet groan and handed Steve a plate. “Can you set that down for them, son?”

He nodded and moved to the table, sliding the plate onto the worn wood with a soft smile. “Here you go, hot off the stove.” He set down several plates of ingredients.

“Thanks.” Robin said, grabbing a slice of bacon as she began to assemble her sandwich. Dustin grumbled at her foot again, but only half-heartedly.

The group settled into quiet conversation as they ate, occasional jokes traded between Eddie and Robin, soft laughter following. Wayne took a seat beside Steve after watching them for a moment, another coffee mug in hand.

They were halfway through the meal when Dustin tensed up.

He hadn’t made a noise, hadn’t moved suddenly, but Steve noticed the shift immediately. The scent around him soured, sharp like burnt sugar. Eddie stiffened too, a chip halfway to his mouth. Robin blinked, looking between them, confused, but kept quiet.

Dustin stared down at his plate, shoulders drawn up.

“I… I’m the one who found your house.” He quietly let out.

Dustin didn’t look up as he continued. “That morning.. I was supposed to come over, you were supposed to pick me but but.. But when you didn’t show, or answer my calls. I thought, maybe you’d gotten drunk or overslept after movie night or.. Or forgot.”

Steve’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. He hadn’t asked. He didn’t know if he wanted these answers yet.

“I biked to your place.. I was pretty pissed off, I was ready to yell at you because I thought you were blowing me off.. I didn’t think.. Anything was wrong at first but.. When I got there the door was open. Not unlocked. Open.”

Across the table, Eddie had gone still, his breathing stopped, his expression unreadable. He gently reached up, letting his hand lay atop Steve’s.

Wayne let out a low sigh, voice rough as he finally spoke. “He called me. First thing. Said he thought somethin’ was wrong. Started gettin’ my shoes on as soon as I heard his voice.. Begged me to tell ‘im you’d stayed the night again.” Wayne glanced at Steve, his gaze soft but heavy. “I couldn’t.”

Steve’s mouth was dry. “You.. Hadn’t told me that.”

Wayne nodded slowly. “I didn’t know if it would help. Didn’t know if you’d wanna hear it. Thought you’d needed time still, thought I’d wait until you wanted to know.”

“I.. I want to know, now.” His voice barely above a whisper.

Across from him, Dustin finally looked up. His eyes were red, watery. “It was bad, Steve. Your house… It was trashed. But your room..” He paused, swallowing hard. “Your room looked like someone had torn it apart. Like- Like you’d fought.. And lost.”

“I did… I think.”

“I got there the same time as the others did.” Wayne added gently. “I don’t think any of ‘em said a word. They just stood there, lookin’ at the mess.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Your bedframe was splintered. Mattress town and halfway off. Sheets shredded. The wall was cracked- deep. And blood was.. There was so much of it. And we didn’t know if it was yours or-.” Wayne shook his head.

He moved his pinky to hook around Eddie’s finger. His other hand gripping the edge of the table to keep it from shaking. “I remember… Flashes. My room. I was.. I screamed. Something burned.. I think I tried to run.”

Wayne nodded. “It looked that way. There were.. Bodies. In your room, in the hall too. But you were gone.”

Dustin’s voice cracked. “We.. We looked everywhere.”

“I know.”

“I thought maybe you were hiding somewhere, maybe you went back to skull rock. Or.. Or maybe you were hurt. I thought just if we looked harder, if I looked harder I could-” Dustin cut himself off, wiping his nose angrily. “I’m just.. I’m glad you’re here. Both.. Both of you.”

Steve’s eyes burned, and he reached across the table without thinking, laying a hand over Dustin’s.

“We are too.” Eddie said quietly, sliding his hand across Steve’s shoulder. “Every day.”

Robin reached over and gently placed her hand over both of theirs. “You’re not alone anymore, okay? So don’t go thinking you are Harrington.”

Steve nodded slowly, squeezing Dustin’s hand. “Yeah.. Okay.”

Wayne leaned back, his expression unreadable but proud. “That room.. It ain’t your story anymore. This is.”

---

Then dinner-

The house smelled like garlic, butter, and simmering tomato sauce- familiar, warm, comforting. The sun had begun to dip below the trees outside Wayne’s kitchen window, casting long golden shadows across the tiled floor. Steve stood by the stove, wooden spoon in one hand, the other braced on his hips as he stirred the pot of his homemade meat sauce. He moved with practiced ease, the rhythm familiar despite the four years that had slipped by.

Wayne stood beside him, flipping slices of garlic bread on a tray with a wide spatula. “You still remember the recipe.” He noted gruffly, watching Steve add a generous pinch of pepper to the pot.

Steve smiled faintly. “My grandmother taught me how to cook. And while I didn’t exactly get any chances in the lab.. I’ll always remember it.” He moved out of the way as Wayne went to slide the tray back in the oven.

At the table, Eddie was sprawled sideways in his chair, one leg hooked around the back, watching the kitchen like it was the most interesting show on earth. Or maybe he was just watching Steve. “You know,” he started, “if garlic was fatal to vampires, garlic bread would still be a good way to go.”

Wayne snorted and shook his head as Steve rolled his eyes, but the amusement on his face was clear. “Garlic bread. Really?” Robin asked, leaning forward.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t die for garlic bread?” Eddie sat up straighter, placing a dramatic hand over his heart.

“I didn’t say that. I mean I’ve tasted Steve’s cooking before. One hundred percent I would.”

Dustin, who was sitting across from Robin, looked between them, eyebrows drawn together. “Okay, wait, are you two seriously doing a garlic bread death pact right now?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie dramatically widened his eyes. “If I ever go out, I want it to be buttery and delicious… Or Steve related.”

Robin rolled her eyes with enough force to make her dizzy. “I can’t believe you got a boyfriend, dingus. And this wasn’t the first thing you told me. Or the second. Or even the third. I’m offended… I think I’m more offended that it’s Munson. Sorry Wayne.”

Steve snorted, dishing out plates of spaghetti and handing them to Wayne. “I’ve been a little busy, y'know.”

“Oh, right. Turning into a vampire. Kidnapped. Experimented on. Finding out said boyfriend was alive and also a vampire, who isn’t a vampire these days?” She waved a fork in the air. “Guess I’ll let it slide.”

“Okay first of all, he wasn’t my boyfriend for most of that. Not until about two months ago so-”

“Two months, fifteen days.” Eddie interrupted, his grin all teeth.

“You-..” Steve let a soft smile slowly spread, his cheeks heating. “Idiot.” He mumbled. ”Wait.. So we’ve been out.. Three.. Over three months then?”

Eddie made a quiet noise of agreement. “Yeah.. I’ll ask Doc to get you a calendar sweetheart.”

Wayne moved to pull the garlic bread out of the oven, before plating it, listening in on their conversation. He was smiling as he put the plate in the center of the table. He took a seat with a content grunt. “Food’s all up.”

Everyone dug in.

They are in companionable silence, the sound of clinking forks and satisfied chewing filling the kitchen. Dustin inhales his pasta like he hadn’t eaten in days. Robin savored every bite like she was cataloging each spice in the sauce.

Eventually, Wayne set his fork down with a soft clink. His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “After we found your house like.. That.. We called Owens. Right away.”

Steve looked up, mid-bite, tension creeping back into his shoulders. “You did?”

Wayne nodded. “Didn’t know who else to go to. We needed someone who’d take it seriously. Plus he was waitin’ ‘round for your next appointment… He got law enforcement involved real quick. Said it was the safest way to keep people out of it.”

Robin and Dustin had gone still, eyes trained on Wayne. Like they had pushed this part of the story from their memories. Eddie paused, mid-twirl of pasta.

Wayne’s gaze softened. “The suits put out another story. Said that Jason.. Carver, survived. And he.. Came after you for revenge.”

Steve blinked, confused now. “Carver? But- he was..?”

“Dead. Yup. We knew that. You knew that. But they needed a story people would buy. Carver was already unhinged in the public’s eye after the whole satanic panic, killin’ his friends, going after those kids thing. Wasn’t a stretch.”

“People believed it?” Eddie cut in, brows furrowed.

Before Wayne could answer, Dustin jumped in. “Nancy refused to let anyone say Steve was dead, like she did with your cover story.” His voice cracked slightly, he cleared his throat. “She strong armed the cops, the feds, everyone. I’m not even joking, I think Owens was scared. She threatened lawsuits. Said until there was a body, no one was allowed to say it. Not in town. Not in the press. Not even the Party.. Not that we would.”

Wayne chuckled softly. “That girl’s got a spine of steel. Scary when she wants to be.”

Steve and Eddie both laughed, the sound easing some of the weight in the room.

“I told you,” Steve said to Eddie, grinning. “She terrified me more than the Demogorgons.”

“You should be afraid of her,” Dustin added with a shrug. “We all are. It’s like a rule now.”

Wayne leaned back, taking a sip of his Coke. “Since they put out the Carver story, people just assumed you were alive and taken too, Eds.. That the two of you went missin’ together. So, officially? You’re both not dead. Not exactly.”

Eddie raised a brow. “Not exactly?”

Wayne sighed. “You’re both listed as missing, presumed dead. For a while now. But the important part is, there’s a thread to pull. You’re not ghosts, not entirely. You’ve still got a chance to come back.. If you want to.”

The silence that followed was deep and thoughtful. Steve reached under the table, his hand brushing Eddie’s knee. The bond between them hummed softly.

“Four years…” Eddie whispered. “And people still don’t know what really happened.”

Robin placed her fork down gently. “But they will. We’re gonna tell them. The whole Party. And then- if you want- the town. The world too, if it comes to that. I mean.. Just about everyone in town has seen a Demogorgon around these days. So your story, telling them you’re a vampire or anything really.. No one will bat an eye anymore.”

Dustin nodded. “And you’re not alone anymore either. We’ve got your back.”

Wayne grinned, pride shining through his tired eyes. “Damn right we do.”

Steve looked around the table- at Robin’s fire, Dustin’s fierce loyalty, Wayne’s unwavering steadiness, and Eddie’s hand in his under the table. And for the first time in years, hope didn’t feel like something fragile.

---

And then even, dessert-

Wayne had pulled out an old cherry pie from the freezer that he swore was still good, and nobody had the heart to argue otherwise. They all just sat and ate in a quiet joy.

But eventually, reality would catch up to them. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, the clock ticking steadily forward, whispering that it was time to go.

Just… Not yet.

They had curled back into their seats, each of them soaking in the moment.

Eddie had claimed his dramatic perch across Steve’s lap, his legs dangling over the couch’s edge, arms folded loosely over his chest, but his head was nestled just across Steve’s thighs. Steve’s fingers combed lazily through his curls, over and over in a familiar gentle rhythm.

Robin was tucked into one side of the other couch, her legs pulled beneath her as she leaned into the arm rest, eyes heavy with emotion and thought. Dustin had taken the opposite end, sitting close enough to Wayne’s recliner to be within reach if he needed more reassurance, but still leaning toward the warmth of the group.

“-we could even break it down for them so you wouldn’t have to go on retelling your story a hundred different times.” Dustin continued quietly, hands moving as he tried to lay out a plan to tell the Party about Steve and Eddie. “We have the whole Party meet up at Hoppers. So you’re not just dropped into it. We can prep them first, explain some of it ahead of time so when we all meet up it’s not, you know.. Chaos.”

“We could have Wayne come along.” Robin added thoughtfully. “He knows more than we do, and we trust him. He’s… Stable.” She gave Wayne a small smile. “He could help smooth things over.”

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t heavy. It was pensive.

His thumb brushed behind Eddie’s ear as he let the thought settle between them, then gently, he sent his own across the bond. -It would.. Admittedly be a lot easier.-

Eddie gave an unnoticeable nod against his lap, leaning back into Steve’s fingers. ‘Still be emotional when we see them but.. But yeah.. It’d be a lot easier.’ His words hummed back, soft and warm.

A whisper drifted over from the recliner. “They’re using the bond o’ theirs.” Wayne murmured, though they weren’t paying it much attention.

Dustin grinned. “That’s so cool.” He whispered back, clearly trying not to break the moment, but not hiding his awe.

Steve and Eddie didn’t respond. They didn’t need to. Their silence was full of understanding.

Steve had a smile curling at his lips as he locked eyes with Eddie. His eyes narrowed as he did his best to push something forward. It hadn’t been a conscious effort before, it was like the first few times they’d used the bond.

Suddenly, the bond echoed with Eddie’s laughter as a flash of Dustin falling into Steve’s pool played between them. Eddie closed his eyes in concentration. Steve was suddenly seeing a glimpse of himself standing in his Scroops Ahoy uniform, laughing at a joke as he handed a cone off to Robin.

-Oh that’s.. Something.- He smiled, the bond pulsing with warmth. -So.. I think it’s a good plan.- He focused back on the conversation as they locked eyes again.

‘Yeah.. Me too.’ Eddie returned, his mind lighter. ‘So.. Are we gonna comment on the kid’s new clothes?’

-Not sure he’s much of a kid anymore but..- His eyes flicked up to where Dustin sat in a too large polo shirt. -But yeah I think… I think that’s one of my shirts?-

He leaned forward, but not enough to move Eddie, his eyes narrowing at Dustin.

“Uh.. Steve?” Dustin squirmed uncomfortably, nervously.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

The room went still for a moment. Robin looked over at Dustin, amused. And Wayne tilted his head like he’d just noticed it too.

“Oh uh..” Dustin tugged at the hem of the too-long shirt awkwardly. “I.. Yeah? I just.. Sometimes, when we’d go through your stuff I’d.. I like to wear something. Just, you know.. To remember you. I wasn’t trying to be weird about it.”

He stared at him for a second longer, then smiled- something warm, if tired. “I think it looks good on you. Different, but.. Not bad.”

Eddie snorted. “Not really your style,” he agreed, his voice laced with fondness. “But you make it work.”

There was another beat of silence. Comfortable this time.

Eddie let his eyes drift shut for a second, still draped across Steve’s lap. Sending contentment through the bond at each of Steve’s gentle tugs in his hair. “And yeah… It’s a pretty good plan. We.. Having Wayne there would help. I..”

‘How soon are we thinking?’ He cracked open his eyes, looking at Steve.

-I.. I don’t know? I think.. The sooner they know the better but..-

‘Yeah.. I get it.’

Eddie turned his head, looking toward Dustin. “We don’t know when we’re ready to see everyone but.. If you three want to get them all together and tell them, if you want to tell our story Wayne.. We’re alright with it.”

Steve nodded slowly. “We just.. We still need some time. It’s a lot to.. It’s just a lot.” He glanced back down at Eddie before looking between the three in front of them. “Give us some time. Let us know when you’re telling them but.. Give us a few days at least? There’s some things we need to work through.”

Eddie nodded at that. Reaching his hand up to take the one Steve had over his heart. “You guys can still come over and visit us here, or call even. We’ll be between here and our cabin. Wayne can give you our number for over there.”

Steve wiggled his fingers in Eddie’s grasp, smiling now. “We’ll be around. But just.. It’s a lot. They um.. After you tell them all if you guys want to call us we’ll probably be.. Probably be at the cabin during it.”

“Okay. Okay yeah that’s alright. Makes plenty of sense. This is a lot for you guys and we’re just.. Glad you’re back.”

‘When did the kid get so mature?’

-Not a clue.-

“Alright.” Robin nodded. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed. We’ll make sure they know that. That no one pushes.”

Wayne just gave a little grunt of acknowledgement, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. There was pride in his eyes, hidden just beneath the surface.

Eventually. Robin yawned quietly, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket. “We should probably go before I fall asleep on this couch.”

“Too late.” Dustin murmured, already halfway to doing just that.

But they didn’t move.

Not until Wayne stood slowly, his knees cracking. After all this time Robin still hadn’t gotten her drivers license, and Claudia made Dustin promise not to until he finished high school. -Overprotective.- Steve thought with pride, maybe there was still something he could do.

Wayne gave both Steve and Eddie a gentle pat on their hands as he walked past to grab his keys. “You both stayin’?”

Steve nodded, gently tugging a knot out of Eddie’s hair. “Yeah.. Gonna spend the night again, if that’s alright.”

“Son..” Wayne turned, his eyes narrowed, his jacket halfway up his arm. “Sometimes you’re dumber than your father.” He shook his head, voice fond. “‘Course it’s alright. This is your home.”

Steve smiled up at him. “I know.. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a hot date on the way.”

Wayne snorted at that, tugging his jacket the rest of the way on. “Yeah well, I canceled my calendar of supermodels and pinups just for you boys. You’re welcome.”

That pulled a laugh out of Eddie- tired, soft, but real. Steve grinned and rolled his eyes.

Robin stood slowly. Dustin followed even slower, his limbs stiff, but also not wanting to go. They both moved to the front door, stretching the moment but slowly tying their shoes, eyes flitting back every few seconds like they still couldn’t quite believe what had happened.

Steve and Eddie got up together, shoulders brushing. The bond was warm between them, heavy with quiet sadness and relief. They crossed the room in tandem, and without needing to think, they wrapped their arms around Robin and Dustin.

Tightly. Almost too tight, like they’d forgotten humans were fragile.

But neither of them let go.

Robin pressed her face into Steve’s shoulder, her voice a whisper. “You better still be here next time I come over.”

“I will.” Steve promised, his lips brushing her hair. “I promise Robs, I will.”

Dustin didn’t say anything. He just clung to Eddie, fingers digging into the back of his sweatshirt like he was scared letting go would make this whole thing disappear. Eddie closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the side of Dustin’s head, just above his ear.

“We’ll see you soon.” He murmured. “Real soon… Now go give your mom a hug.”

With a wet laugh Dustin pulled back, lightly punching Eddie’s shoulder. But he didn’t argue. Just switched with Robin. His hands clutching even tighter at Steve’s shirt, quiet tears sliding down his cheeks again.

Robin hugged Eddie as well, whispering in his ears even though she knew Steve could hear. “You break his heart and you’ll wish you stayed dead Munson, got it?” Eddie nodded, though the bond still pulsed with warmth. “I don’t know what can kill you, but I’ll find it. Stake to the heart, a bullet, lava even. Don’t test me.”

“I won’t Buckley, trust me.”

Finally, after a long moment, Wayne gently cleared his throat, letting the front door creak open. The four slowly pulled apart. Steve gave Robin’s hand a final squeeze. Eddie ruffled Dustin’s hair, who immediately grumbled at him for it- but didn’t try to fix it.

Wayne gave both boys a look- part amusement, part something deeper and older- and then gently ushered their guests out the door.

The door cracked once more, then clicked shut.

Steve and Eddie stayed where they were, standing in the middle of the living room, watching the door like it still held something sacred.

The shuffle of feet on the porch echoed in their ears. Wayne was talking quietly but they heard it as if it was right next to them. They heard Dustin climb in the trust first, then Robin. They heard the engine rumble to life, saw the headlights wash the yard in pale light. They stood there as the tires crunched softly over gravel, fading slowly into the distance.

Silence returned.

Steve exhaled slowly, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Eddie stopped closer, and Steve leaned into him.

Their arms wrapped around each other wordlessly, and for a few minutes they just stood like that- breathing in time, listening to the quiet of the house. The silence wasn’t empty, but full. Of memories. Of love. Of everything that had changed. Everything they’d missed. Everything they still had.

Eventually, without needing to speak, they made their way back to the couch.

Steve laid down first, and Eddie followed, settling on top of him with a tired groan. His head resting over Steve’s chest, legs tangling together as the bond hummed calm, content.

He ran a hand gently through Eddie’s hair again, thumb brushing behind his ear. “Think they’ll be okay?”

Eddie nodded against him. “Think so.”

They didn’t speak again for a while.

They just lay there, pressed together on the couch, letting the warmth of the moment wrap around them like a blanket. There was sadness there- an ache for everything they’d lost- but also something else.

Something soft.

Hope.

Hope for everything they’d gain.

Steve’s fingers lazily trailed shapes across Eddie’s shoulder. Most often he drew the Hellfire logo.

The quiet around them felt like home, like the echo of laughter still lingered in the walls.

They lay curled together, half blanketed in shadows, half in the soft glow of the lamp by the far wall. Neither spoke. Their fingers brushed lazily between them, pinkies curling, drafting toward each other, then linking- quiet confirmation that they were still here, still together.

The bond thrummed gently between them. Not loud. Not sharp. Just warm. Content. The way it got when both their hearts were full. When both of them were tired, but not aching. Like their bones had finally remembered they were allowed to rest.

Steve let out a soft sigh, his cheek pressed against the edge of the cushion, his other hand ghosting lightly over Eddie’s wrist.

Neither of them moved when the faint rumble of Wayne’s truck filtered in through the trees. Their hearing zeroing in on the familiar sound, long before it would’ve been audible to anyone else. Even before the tires brunched over gravel, they could hear the distant, slightly off-key humming.

The engine cut off, the sudden silence leaving a gentle whirr in its place as the truck cooled. They still didn’t move.

Through the still air, they tracked each sound with quiet familiarity: the creak of the truck door. The firm, steady steps up the porch. The jangle of keys.

The door opened with a soft groan of wood and hinges.

Wayne stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a silent finality. He didn’t seem surprised to see them still there, bodies slouched together on the couch. If anything, he looked relieved. Maybe even proud. His eyes flicked over them- Eddie’s wild curls pressed to Steve’s shoulder, Steve’s arm slung around his waist- and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He shrugged out of his worn flannel, hung it on the hook by the door, then bent down to untie his boots. They landed with two soft thuds by the mat.

Still, neither of them spoke.

Wayne crossed the room, moving toward his recliner with all the grace of someone whose joints didn’t bend like they used to. He eased into the chair with a quiet grunt and settled back with a sight, the old leather creaking under his weight.

For a long moment, the three of them just sat there comfortably. Steve’s thumb moving in slow, lazy circles across Eddie’s knuckles.

Eventually, Wayne’s voice broke through, low and steady. “I’m real proud of you boys.”

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t a grand declaration. But it landed with a heavy weight. Real, solid weight that settled somewhere deep in their chests.

Steve’s fingers paused for a beat. Eddie blinked, slowly lifting his head to look over at his uncle. The warmth that had filled the room didn’t dissipate- it shifted, deepened, turned into something that felt like a quiet ache. The kind that only came with healing what you didn’t even know you needed.

Wayne didn’t elaborate. He just leaned back in his recliner, arms resting over the worn edges, his gaze steady on them. He looked tired- but in a way that spoke of relief. Of peace.

“You didn’t have to fight your way back,” he added gently, “but you did anyway. For each other. For yourselves. For a future you didn’t even know was still waiting for you.”

Steve blinked quickly and looked away, his jaw flexing. His eyes shimmered and he swallowed hard, trying to will back the tears.

Eddie was quieter than usual. He didn’t joke, didn’t quip. He just stared at Wayne, his throat bobbing with the weight of what that sentence meant to him.

“We weren’t…” Eddie started, his voice rasping. He cleared his throat. “We weren’t sure if.. If coming back even meant anything anymore. Didn’t.. Didn’t think it meant this.”

Wayne gave a small nod, folding his hands in his lap. “Yeah.. I know. But it does. More than you know. And I’ll remind you boys as often as you need.”

Steve let out a breath, not quite a sight. “It’s been hard.. Trying to believe that.”

Wayne gave a flat smile, just a tight press of lips. “I can’t promise it’ll be easy. But people.. They’ll surprise you. Some won’t understand. Some will. But you got each other. And you’ve got those two, and me. Always.”

Eddie turned his head to look at Steve then, eyes soft, and Steve leaned forward enough to rest his forehead gently against Eddie’s temple. Eddie exhaled, eyes fluttering shut at the contact.

Wayne leaned back again, his recliner creaking as he pushed up on his knees, standing. “Get some rest boys. You’ve earned it.. One step at a time.” He walked over, giving a soft pat to both of their shoulders. Reassuring both himself and the two of them that he was here, that they were too. “I’ll see you both in the morning… Try not to wake me up this time.” He joked as he turned toward the stairs.

They didn’t respond. They just laid there. Steve’s hand tightening around Eddie’s, the bond pulsing warmth, a soft hum of comfort in the quiet.

‘Do you wanna move upstairs?’ A gentle push through their bond, a barely there caress.

-Just.. In a second.- He let his other hand trail up to run through Eddie’s hair. He wanted so badly to say the words. But he couldn’t, not now.

They stayed on the couch until Wayne’s breathing slowed, evening out into the quiet rhythmic hum of sleep. Steve was the first to lift his head, just slightly, his hearing tuning into the steady beat of Wayne’s heart- slower now, calm. Asleep.

Eddie nodded once when Stee glanced at him, already reading the unspoken signal. With slow movements they unraveled themselves from each other and rose to their feet. The room didn’t creak, didn’t groan- just the whisper of their socks across the old hardwood as they made their way up the stairs on silent footsteps.

The upstairs hallway was bathed in soft amber light from a single nightlight plugged in by the banister. It felt familiar in a way Steve hadn’t realized he’d missed- those quiet moments before bed, when everything slowed down and the world didn’t feel quite so sharp.

Inside Eddie’s room, the air was cool but not cold. Comfortable. Safe.

They changed side by side, the silence between them warm and easy. Steve peeled off his shirt, Eddie pulling on his own with a tired grunt. No words passed. Just the rustling of fabric, the soft pads of their feet as they moved about the room, audible only to their ears.

Eddie caught Steve’s eyes for a second- just a fleeting glance- and they both cracked small, tired smiles.

They headed to the bathroom together, brushing their teeth side by side. Eddie’s shoulder bumped Steve’s every few seconds. They swayed toward one another in front of the mirror, the movements casual, familiar. Not deliberately, just part of their gravity.

Spit, rinse, a shared glance in the mirror. No words.

But the time they made it back to their room, the exhaustion had settled deep into their bones. Steve pulled the blankets down, and Eddie flopped down with a deep, content sigh.

Steve crawled in a beat later, but before he could settle onto his pillow, Eddie opened his arms without a word. And he didn’t need to be asked. He let himself be pulled in, chest to chest for a brief second before he rolled, resting his head over Eddie’s heart.

Eddie draped his arms like a practiced act- one low on Steve’s waist, the other across his back. He shifted until they were a perfect fit.

The room was dark, quiet, still. Only the occasional creak of the house or the quiet hum of Wayne’s breath down the hall hinted at a world beyond them and their bed.

The bond pulsed low and steady. Like a heartbeat, one shared between them. Synced up after too long apart.

‘You alright?’ Eddie’s thought drifted across the space between them, not urgent. Soft, warm.

Steve didn’t open his eyes. Just nuzzled a little closer into Eddie’s chest. -Yeah. You?-

A quiet hum in their minds. ‘Yeah.. Think I forgot what this kind of tired felt like.’

-The good kind?-

‘Yeah, the best.’

-I think we have a lot more of this coming soon.-

‘Yeah.. We do.’

Silence again.

Eddie’s fingers moved in slow, idle passes along Steve’s spine. His end now hummed with contentment. He tilted his head, pressing a kiss into Steve’s hair, just because he could. Then another a minute later. And another after that.

Steve didn’t say anything, just smiled. The bond soaked in every one, warm like sunlight through leaves.

They drifted in and out of half-sleep, wrapped around each other. It wasn’t perfect. Their bodies still remembered too much of the cold, too much of the pain. But here- together- it didn’t ache as much. It was softer around the edges

He shifted slightly, curling his hand around Eddie’s t-shirt, fingertips bunching the fabric.

-We’re safe… We’re home… We made it.-

Eddie didn’t answer right away. Just breathed. Let his nose rest in Steve’s hair. Pressed one more kiss against the crown of his head and let the bond say it all back.

‘Yeah. We did Stevie. We did.’

Maybe they didn’t need to say the words yet.

It echoed between them anyway.

---

The training mats beneath their feet were firm but forgiving, absorbing the thud of each step and shift of weight. The air in the room was warm with effort and movement, the fluorescent lights above casting pale rectangles across the floor. The smell of rubber and sweat filled the space, familiar now, grounding.

The bond between them was closed. Not out of anger. Not forced closed. But closed because Eddie kept trying to use it to guess Steve’s next move, or distract him with images of Steve in bed. So he’d closed it slowly, calmly, so he wouldn’t feel cold again.

Steve and Eddie now circled each other slowly, both lightly panting, but smiling. Their shirts clung to their backs, damp with exertion, muscles taut but ready. It had been a long session already.

Eddie made the first move, stepping forward with a tight jab toward Steve’s shoulder.

“Stop!” Doc’s voice rang sharp across the room, clipped and loud. “Munson, what did I say about your footwork? Back too far, weight’s off. Again.” He scribbled something onto his clipboard.

Eddie groaned under his breath, a low frustrated sound.

“You watch your damn footwork.” He muttered, just quiet enough that only Steve’s hearing could catch it.

Steve bit back a grin.

Doc pointed a pen in his direction, unimpressed. “Don’t think I can’t see your lips moving.. Fix. It.”

Eddie grumbled louder this time, but reset anyway. Adjusted. Focused. Then, without another word, he lunged forward again- this time his feet solid, stance grounded, punch tight.

Steve swayed to the side, dodging cleanly-

“Stop!” Doc barked again. “Harrington, your swing was too wide, again. You opened yourself up. Start over, do it again.”

He let out a breath, hands going to his hips briefly as he reset. Eddie was already back in position, brow raised as if to say c’mon golden boy.

They stepped in again, faster this time. Eddie’s punch shot forward, sharper, more controlled. Steve dipped low and trusted past it, momentum carrying him behind Eddie in a fluid motion.

Doc gave a grunt that meant better as he scribbled onto his clipboard again.

They went again. And again. Each move more precise. Every step and shift a conversation in muscle memory and instinct. Eddie landed a hit against Steve’s ribs with a soft thud, not enough to bruise but enough to win a breathless oof from Steve. Steve retaliated with a tap to Eddie’s shoulder, snapping his hand back before Eddie could catch it.

They moved like they’d done this for years- even if they still laughed a little too much between drills and Doc occasionally threatened to throw his clipboard.

Another lunge. Another dodge.

Sweat dripped from Eddie’s jaw, his curls wild, sticking to his temple. Steve’s chest heaved as he rolled his shoulder, brushing a bruise already blooming, though it would fade just as fast.

“You’re getting better.” He muttered under his breath.

Eddie smirked. “Yeah? Wait until I hit you on purpose.”

“Cute. You think you haven’t already.”

Doc signed loudly. “Less flirting. More technique.”

“Not flirting.” They both muttered at the same time.

Doc didn’t even bother responding to that- just motioned for them to go again.

So they went again.

And this time, when Eddie's fist skimmed Steve’s side and he ducked under his arm to counter, they both grinned- wide, wild, excited.

Better. Stronger. Together.

They wouldn’t get taken by the lab again.

Not now. Not ever.

Eddie huffed out a breath and took two quick steps back, brushing sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “One sec.” He muttered, patting at his pocket. He dug in, fingers fumbling for a beat before finishing out a black hair tie.

Steve watched, half-cocked smile on his lips, chest still rising and falling.

Eddie put the hair tie between his teeth, tilting his chin up as his hands gathered the wild mess of curls at the back of his head. In a few practiced movements, he twisted them and tied it up into a loose, messy bun- curls sticking out at odd angles, a few strands falling around his face, sweat making them cling to his cheekbones.

Something about the casual ease of it- the fluid motion, the way the tendons in Eddie’s forearms flexed, the exposed column of his throat- froze Steve in place.

He blinked. His breath caught.

He’d never seen Eddie put his hair up before.

And it was- God.

Beautiful.

There wasn’t another word for it.

Steve licked his bottom lip, then bit it. Hard. Trying to ground himself.

Eddie glanced back up, oblivious, already stepping forward again. “Alright, lover boy. Let’s do this.”

And then he lunged.

Steve’s body reacted before his brain did- muscles memory and reflex overriding the dazed haze. He reached out, caught Eddie’s arm mid-strike, and with one sharp pivot of his hips and twist of his core, he flipped Eddie over cleanly.

Eddie hit the mat with a loud thud. Flat on his back, limbs splayed out.

Steve stared down at him, blinking, like he’s not quite sure how Eddie got there. His heart was hammering in his throat- and not from the sparring.

Eddie blinked up, wide-eyed and breathless, curls bouncing loose from the elastic.

“...What the hell was that?” Eddie asked, voice pitched somewhere between impressed and insulted.

He just stood there, frozen, lips parted. “You- your hair-” He started, then immediately shut his mouth.

Eddie squinted. “My.. Hair?”

Doc groaned from across the room. “Jesus Christ. Somebody pin somebody or I’m going to my office.”

But Steve didn’t move. Not yet.

Eddie, still flat on his back, looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “..Are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing..” He muttered, finally offering a hand up.

Eddie took it, grinning now.

And Steve was definitely blushing.

Eddie’s fingers tightened briefly around Steve’s hand before letting go, that lopsided grin stretching across his face again- mischievous and smug.

They reset, feet shuffling across the training mats, circling in sync. Steve rolled his shoulders. Eddie cracked his neck.

But before he moved, Eddie reached up, fingers deftly adjusting his hair back into the elastic. A few strands escaped, clinging to his damp forehead. He gathered them back up, pushing them back, and pulled the elastic tighter, securing the bun again.

Steve couldn’t look away.

He wasn’t even trying to be subtle.

His eyes locked on Eddie’s hands- those nimble, ring-heavy fingers moving through a sea of curls. His lips parted, caught somewhere between breathless and undone.

Eddie saw it.

And oh, did he plan on taking advantage of it.

With one clean lunge and a quick twist of Steve's distracted wrist, Eddie threw him off-balance and sent them both tumbling- Eddie on top, knees pinning Steve’s hips, one forearm across his chest.

Steve blinked up at him, dazed.

Pinned.

Eddie’s grin was feral.

“Finally.” He mocked, chest heaving with a laugh. “Goddamn sweetheart you didn’t make that easy.”

Doc clapped once from across the room. “There we go. Munson wins one. Let’s stop there before one of you dies of thirst. Or testosterone poisoning.”

He grabbed his clipboard and papers, muttering on his way out. “Not sticking around for the rest of whatever this is.”

The door clicked shut behind them.

But Eddie didn’t move.

Still straddling Steve, still grinning. His eyes were bright, wild in a way that made Steve’s stomach flip.

He leaned in just a little, arms still bracketing Steve’s shoulders.

“So,” he said slowly, tilting his head. “What was that you were saying.. About my hair?”

Eddie’s grin grew, slow and wicked, but not unkind. He could feel muscles tense under his palm like Steve wasn’t sure whether to melt or combust.

Steve blinked. Once. Twice. His lips parted like he was going to say something coherent, but it didn’t come out.

Instead:

“Hot,” he blurted out.

Eddie arched a brow. “Come again?”

Steve’s brows furrowed, like he didn’t even register speaking. His mouth worked for a second, trying to catch up with his brain.

“You’re… You’re so hot.” He stammered, voice soft but wrecked, eyes wide and completely fixated on Eddie. “With the- hair. And the uh..” His hand made a vague circling motion. “Hot.”

Eddie laughed, loud and warm, the sound echoing in the training room. His hands loosened a bit but he didn’t move away- if anything, he leaned in just a touch closer, his breath ghosting over Steve’s lips.

“Christ, Harrington.” Amusement danced behind his eyes. “You are down bad.”

He just nodded, still kind of stunned. “Yeah.” He managed to whisper. “Yeah, I really am.”

Eddie’s grin softened as he trailed his fingers to brush a strand of hair back from Steve’s temple, fingers lingering. “Good thing I am too sweetheart.”

He huffed out a breath, a smile finally cracking across his lips. “Yeah?” His voice was light now, though a little hoarse.

Eddie leaned down, forehead touching Steve’s, still not moving from his winning position. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Real nice of you to get your ass kicked so gracefully too.”

Steve groaned, letting his head drop back against the may with a thud. “I hate you.”

“You adore me.”

“...Shut up.”

But they were both grinning now.

Eddie didn’t think about it. He surged down, mouth crashing into Steve’s with a force that was all teeth and tongue and yearning pressed into one.

There was no need to pause for breath- not for them. Not anymore. Their bodies had different rules now, and in this moment, they were breaking all of them anyway.

Steve gasped into the kiss, but the sound turned into a groan, low and rough in his chest. His fingers curled into Eddie’s shirt, pulling him closer as if they weren’t already pressed together.

Eddie’s hand slid beneath the hem of Steve’s shirt, callused fingers trailing over warm skin, pushing the shirt up until he could rest just at the hollow of his throat.

And that was when it happened.

The bond flared between them- sudden and hot and so alive it stole the air from the room. It wasn’t just a warmth now. It was blazing, scorching through their chests like they’d been branded.

Both of them groaned into their next kiss, bodies arching closer.

Then Steve moved. A helpless little roll of his hips against Eddie's, instinctual and raw, and the sound he made- high, breathless, needy- punched straight through Eddie’s ribs.

Eddie stilled for a second, blinking down at him with stunned awe.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He rasped, voice rough and shaking. “Did you just-?”

He didn’t finish his sentence.

He didn’t need to.

He dove back down, kissing Steve with the kind of desperate reverence that made the world fall away- like he could memorize him with his mouth, like he needed to. Their bond roared between them like wildfire, and Steve met him every step of the way, clinging and kissing and burning with him, caught in the gravity of it all.

---

Steam still clung to their skin as they stepped out of the shower. Eddie didn’t bother with space or subtlety- he pressed himself right up against Steve’s back in front of the lockers, his chest flush with damp, warm skin. He leaned in and planted a loud, purposefully obnoxious smooch to Steve’s cheek.

Steve snorted, rolling his eyes, but the little smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

“Real mature.” He murmured, but he didn’t move away either.

Eddie grinned into his skin, then finally peeled off to grab his towel. They moved slowly as they got dressed, still languid from the high of sparing, and the still lingering touches from what had come after. Steve kept glancing at the clock every few minutes, towel tousled through his damp hair.

Eddie let out a dramatic sigh as he caught him once again, flopping backwards onto a bench. “If you keep doing that, you’re gonna break time with your eyeballs, Stevie.”

He just gave him a dry look, but didn’t argue.

Eventually, once they were fully dressed, their hands found each other without thought. Fingers curling together with ease.

They made their way to their favorite room, where three mismatched loveseats were arranged in a half-circle in place of their usual couches. Eddie gave the arrangement a once-over, then snorted, muttering under his breath. “Tyrant. Still won’t give us back our couches.”

Steve hummed, a breathy little sound of amusement as they settled onto the softest of the three. Eddie draped himself across Steve almost instantly, head tucked under his chin, one leg hooked over Steve’s. They didn’t turn on the TV.

They were half-lost in the silence, fingers still linked, when Doc passed through, clipboard still in hand.

“Wayne’s on his way.” He started casually. “He’s picking up Henderson and Buckley, then heading to Hopper’s cabin to meet up with the others.”

Eddie nodded, not yet moving. “Cool.”

Steve’s voice was softer, like a promise, or a reassurance. “Okay.. We’ll wait in here for their call.”

Doc gave a nod before disappearing back into the hall. The room went quiet again. The low hum of fluorescent lights, the distant whir of the air vents. Steve sighed into Eddie’s hair, his thumb brushing across Eddie’s knuckles.

“Think Doc’s ever gonna give us our couch back?” He mumbled, not really expecting an answer.

Eddie chuckled against his chest. “Only if we promise not to ruin it again.”

He paused, considering.

“Guess we’re never getting it back then.”

The quiet between them had stretched out again- no longer sleepy, not content anymore either. It had shifted into something more taut. Tense. Waiting.

Eddie was reclined half across the loveseat, Steve curled beside him, their hands still joined, fingers shifting nervously every few seconds. Every now and then, Eddie’s knee bounced. Steve would press his thumb a little firmer into Eddie’s knuckles to still it. They didn’t speak.

The silence wasn’t really silent though.

They were both listening for it.

But finally, it came- impossible for a human to hear- the soft low buzz that meant the landline was about to ring. They both sat up in sync, slow and stiff, as if moving too fast might jinx something.

Suddenly the phone on the side table let out a sharp ring.

Steve reached behind them and picked it up, pressing the receiver to his ear. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Hello?”

Wayne’s voice was warm and low, but serious. “It’s me. Everyone’s about to come in, I’m gonna leave the receiver hangin’ so you can listen in.”

He gave a quiet hum of agreement and adjusted the phone so both he and Eddie could hear it clearly.

Then they waited.

The background noise came through first- soft, but slowly sharpening into something more defined.

Robin’s voice floated in mid-sentence, animated and chatting with who they could hear was Nancy.

Jonathan’s deeper timbre came through next, quiet and measured, talking low to Will, whose softer voice barely rose above a murmur.

He was pointing out the different voices to Eddie when the next groups came into the cabin with a loud squeak of the door.

Dustin and Mike could be heard squabbling somewhere in the background. Lucas chiming in trying to play referee, his voice a touch exasperated but fond.

Then Max cut in, sharp, angry, but not mad. Telling them to knock it off.

Then there was a soft whisper, Eleven talking to Hopper who mumbled something back in agreement.

Even Erica’s brash voice cut in making Lucas yell out an embarrassed ‘Hey!’

The sound were so familiar it made Steve’s chest hurt. Like an old wound reopening.

Then, Wayne’s voice cut through the noise like a knife. Clear. Calm. Commanding.

“Alright, all of you. I need you to sit down.”

The background voices lowered but didn’t stop.

“I mean it,” Wayne continued, tone firm. “Sit down. Be quiet.”

A shuffle of movement came through the line. Chairs creaking. Shoes scraping against wooden floors.

“I need to talk,” Wayne kept on after a pause. “An’ it’s important. I don’t want any of you sayin’ a word until I’m done. Got it?”

There was a chorus of mumbled yeahs, a soft ‘Okay’ from Will, a deep grunt from Hopper, and Joyce’s quiet agreement. Then. Silence.

He and Eddie leaned in closer, the phone still pressed between them, their joined hand tightening as they braced for what was coming. The weight of it. The moment they’d been waiting for and dreading all at once.

They held their breaths..

Waiting.

Wayne took his time. And they couldn’t blame him, they knew this was hard on him too.

Then they heard him take a deep breath. His voice came out low, shaking. “Steve… Was found.” He finally managed to get out.

The line exploded. Voices rose all at once- shouts, sobs, questions, disbelief so loud they had to pull the phone away from their ears. They couldn’t even tell who was saying what- it was just sound. Emotions.

Then- silence again, immediate and sharp. Wayne must have lifted his hand, or given them the look.

“I’ll answer everythin’ later.” He said sternly- a wobble there, still, but steadfast. “Just let me say what I need to first.” Another breath, slower. They could almost picture him standing in that small kitchen, or in front of the TV, thumb rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t even know where the hell to begin,” he admitted quietly. “But.. You all know as a last resort I had a buddy o’ mine lookin’ into everythin’.” A few murmured agreements slipped through the phone. “Well, ‘bout a year ago, I get a letter sayin’ he might’ve found somethin’. Didn’t dare hope. Couldn’t. Didn’t wanna think what if that somethin’s a body. But then…”

He stopped. Steve and Eddie squeezed each other’s hand so tightly it hurt. But they didn’t dare let go.

“Then, over a week ago now.. I come home from my shift and, and I’m standin’ in my kitchen- minding my own- and I hear somebody say my name. Thought it was.. Was just another damn trick o’ my brain.”

The quiet admission felt like a punch to the gut. Eddie flinched; Steve blinked hard.

“I turn ‘round and.. And Steve’s just.. He’s right there.”

On the other end, someone made a wounded sound- sharp like a gasp. Maybe Nancy. Maybe Max. Something scraped across wood- someone standing up suddenly. Hopper started to say something- but Wayne cut across him.

“But it wasn’t just Steve..” Wayne pushed on, voice rough. “Eds was…. Eddie’s alive too, Was with him. IS with him now.”

Chaos.

It was louder than before- wails, shouts, several people speaking over one another- years of grief crashing into new. Steve’s throat felt tight. Eddie trembled beside him. He thought he caught Lucas’s voice saying no way, and Max whispering something hoarse, and Mike yelling what do you mean alive that’s not-.

“QUIET!” Wayne barked. Sudden, harsh.

The bunker rang with the echo of it through the phone. Even Steve and Eddie jolted, sitting up straighter. Wayne never raised his voice.

“I said I’d tell you everything. And I meant it.” Wayne growled. “Now sit your asses down. And. Be. Quiet. This needs to be said.”

Shuffling. Chairs scraped. Muted sniffles. Silence fell heavy.

“Good.” Wayne murmured, sounding exhausted. “Now listen. It took ‘em over two months before they came and saw me. They were terrified- rightfully so, after what they’d been through. They didn’t wanna come tonight because, frankly, there’s a lot of ‘ya. So we started small. Dustin and Robin came to my place first. Eh!” Wayne halted any comments.

“You already know why it was them.. As I was sayin’. Those four had their reunion. The two of ‘em alone was hard enough on those boys.” He paused to take another breath, emotion thick. “All o’ you at once? Gotta be terrifying.”

His chest tightened painfully. Eddie’s thumb brushed slow circles over his skin, as much to soothe Steve as it was for himself.

“So. I agreed to tell you lot their story myself. So they didn’t have to run through it again- not tonight at least. ‘Cause I don’t think those boys should have to face all that pain over and over again, not even for all o’ you. They don’t deserve it.” Wayne’s voice dropped softer, but every word hit like a hammer. “They’ve been through enough. So this is me askin’- no, tellin’- you to listen with your whole hearts open, and when it comes time.. To be gentle with ‘em. They’ve suffered a lot. More than anyone should’a.”

On the couch, Steve pressed the phone closer to his chest, staring wide-eyed at Eddie as the words sank in.

-Gentle...- His thoughts shook down the bond.

‘God. I-I hope they’ll listen. Those kids are..’ Eddie answered back, eyes glossy.

He just nodded, leaning into Eddie as they focused back on the phone.

On the other end of the receiver the silence stretched, tight as a wire. Then Wayne’s voice came again, low and steady- not quite calm, but determined to continue.

“Eddie woke up in the Upside Down.” He stated, simple as that, like it was any other sentence. But it landed like a bomb. “Don’t ask me how in the hell he got out. He didn’t wanna talk about it, so we’ll just work with that he did. That part anyway.. It’s not important right now.”

There were a few muffled reactions- sharp breaths, a stifled gasp- but nobody dared to speak. Wayne’s grip on the conversation never loosened.

“He was hurt,” Wayne pressed on, every word rougher than the last. “But healin’. Turned too. Fangs and all. And he was tryin’ so hard to get back, was tryin’ to get to the Harrington’s house. Thought Steve could help ‘im. Crawled back through those woods- alone. Only…”

Wayne’s voice cracked on the edge of a breath. “..Only the people who were coming for Steve, picked him up too. Sooner than they did Steve and close as hell to his place. Too damn close. He nearly made it.”

Steve’s heart thudded too loud for their ears. Eddie squeezed his hand, bond buzzing with shared grief.

But Wayne continued. “What happened next… Well. Steve doesn’t remember most of it. Not from the beginning. He remembers bein’ in a room. Then a.. A lab and sometimes a box. But some things came back in pieces- most of it don’t. Not yet at least. And Ed’s just.. They treated ‘im like an animal. Cages. Restraints. The whole nine.”

“Wayne, what do you mean he doesn’t rem-” Hopper’s voice cut in, a desperate edge to it- but stopped abruptly.

Wayne must have lifted that hand again, or given him the look. The one that can make even a grown man shrink in fear.

“I’ll explain that,” he promised gruffly. “Later. All you need to know right now is: they were locked up in a lab. Hurt. Experimented on. For a long damn time. And they escaped- bloody, half broken, and they had help.” His breath hitched. “And they made their way back home.”

Eddie’s eyes were wet. Steve had stopped breathing entirely, he wasn’t sure when.

On the phone there was nothing but a stunned silence.

Then Wayne’s voice softened; it was the kind of softness that only came when devastation and pride mixed together.

“They fought their way to get back to us. Both of ‘em. Didn’t stop. Didn’t give in. And they did it together. That’s… That’s what matters.”

Steve swallowed thickly, overwhelmed.

Eddie’s thumb brushed the back of his knuckles again- I’m here, it said louder than any words.

---

They listened as Wayne explained everything to them.

The cages. The Pit. The experiments. Their rooms and their punishments. Doc and their escape.

How they only assumed it had been two years, at most.

How Eddie had been treated. What Steve had gone through.

The fact he now needed reminders that this was real. That his memories were scrambled, or hidden, or suppressed.

They listened to the emotions every story brought out. They listened when Dustin quietly promised that he’d always carry something for Steve to read, so he’d know this was real.

They silently cried together as they heard the others break down.

They stopped breathing when Wayne went into detail about their escape, about Steve’s powers.

They let out quiet wet laughs when Wayne threatened that if anyone had anything to say about their relationship they’d take it up with him.

They held their breath again when Wayne admitted that they needed to keep everything a secret. That they were still being hunted. But that they had a safe place to be, even if he couldn’t say where. Just that they were safe, could be themselves, and didn’t have to hold back anymore.

Then came the quiet questions-

“Are they okay?” A single, firm question from Hopper. Wayne gave it a second before answering, letting him know that no they aren’t. But they were working on it.

“Are they willing to see anyone else? A quiet whisper from Joyce. Wayne gave an equally quiet agreement, but that they still needed some time.

“So are they both… Affected?” Lucas asked, careful with his words. He didn’t sound scared or disgusted, just curious. Wayne agreed that they are, but he admitted he was glad for it, as weird as it sounds. He didn’t want either of ‘em to be alone.

“Can we speak to them?” Eleven had, very quietly, asked.

The room went silent again. As if everyone had collectively held their breath.

Wayne let out a deep sigh, they assumed he was nodding. “Yeah kid, I can-.. Not all of you at once, alright? I told you.. Theyre.. Fragile right now. Overwhelmed. They’ve been out over two months but it was spent with each other and a friend of mine. They didn’t have to answer questions, weren’t forced to do anything they didn’t want.. They just need some time.”

Quiet oh’s echoed before Wayne continued. “But… They.. They let me call ‘em to listen in on this. IF!.. You, one at a time. Would like to go say hello, I’m sure they’d be alright with it. Let me just..”

They heard quiet footsteps before the sound of the receiver picked up again. “Boys?.. You still there?”

They were quiet for a second, unsure, before Steve quietly whispered. “..Yes.”

“You fellin’ up to a bit of chatter?”

He glanced at Eddie who gave a single, tense, nod. “Yeah we can.. We can say hello. Just.. Just one at a time would be… Yeah.”

“Okay just a second.” The receiver was put down again as they heard Wayne walk away, then his voice, quieter filtered back in. “One at a time. No rushin’ ‘em with questions or pushin’ too hard. Got it?” Quiet murmurs of agreements.

Eddie sucked in a quiet breath. Steve gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. They could do this.

A soft scrape of a chair came through, then, the receiver was being lifted again.

A short pause.

Then a quiet voice tugged at something deep in Steve’s chest. “...Hello?”

“El?” Steve straightened, squeezing Eddie’s fingers. “Hey, kid.” His voice sounded hoarse.

“Hey supergirl.” Eddie echoed, softer. He didn’t know her yet, but it was no less heartfelt.

There was a breath on the phone- almost fragile. “I am… Sorry.” Eleven whispered. “Sorry I could not find you. I tried.. I tried many times.”

“Oh no.” Steve cut in quickly, his voice coming out choked. “No, kid, no- it’s not your fault, I promise. Okay? It’s not your fault. Not even a little.”

“..Okay.” She whispered. But it sounded like she didn’t fully believe it- but wanted to. “Just… Wanted to say, hello.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and then they heard the faintest click as she placed the receiver gently on the counter.

There was a shuffle, then a new hand picked it up.

“Hello?”

Joyce’s voice was soft, warm, achingly kind. Steve’s eyes burned again.

“Mrs. Byers.” He breathed.

“Oh, sweetheart. I told you, call me Joyce.” Her voice wobbled but she tried to keep it steady. “Are you both alright? Are you safe? You’re not.. Thirsty are you?”

“Yes ma’am,” Eddie answered quietly. “We’re okay. We’re safe. We uh.. We have plenty to drink.”

“I am so glad to hear your voices,” she said with sincerity. With the kind of emotion that wrapped around you like a blanket. “Steve, honey. I’ve missed you, dinners haven’t been the same without you. And Eddie- I look forward to meeting you properly. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Eddie blinked hard, smiling even though she couldn’t see it. “All terrible things I hope.” His voice cracked.

She laughed softly, watery. “Oh of course.”

Another pause, then: “Okay. I’ll… I’ll let someone else have the phone. I’m glad you boys are alright. Take care of each other, Okay?”

“Yes ma’am.” They echoed.

Another shuffle. Another hand picking them up.

“Hello.” Hopper’s voice was rough- more gravel than usual. It was brief. Unsure.

“Hop…” Steve whispered.

“Detective sunglasses.” Eddie joked softly beside him.

There was silence.

Then Hopper exhaled, like the air had been trapped in his chest for years. “...I’m glad you’re both alive.” His voice was heartbreakingly sincere.

Before either of them could figure out what to say back, there was a heavy clunk as he set the receiver back on the counter.

Leaving them staring at the phone in stunned silence. Overwhelmed with emotions.

There was another shuffle.

A quiet breath.

“Steve?” Lucas’s voice- steady, deeper than they remembered, but unmistakably him. “Man.. I. I don’t even know what to say, just… I’m really glad you’re back. Both of you.”

Steve closed his eyes. “Thanks, Lucas. We’re glad to be back.”

“Yeah.” A small exhale. “Yeah, okay.” He cleared his throat, softer now. “See you soon, Harrington.” A click. Receiver passed off.

“About damn time.” Came Erica's sharp voice- but it cracked halfway through. She sniffed hard. “You had everyone freaking out, do you know how annoying that was?”

Eddie laughed softly. “Missed you too, Lady Applejack.”

She made a disgusted sound, then quietly muttered. “Just- don’t do it again, idiots.” And the phone changed hands again before either of them could reply.

There was a pause.. Then Mike breathed out, almost sheepishly. “Steve?.. Eddie?”

“We’re here kid.” Steve answered gently.

“I’m… Glad you’re alive.” Mike said, like he hadn’t expected the words to come out. “Just.. Yeah. It’s-good.”

Eddie snorted. “Don’t strain yourself Henderson 2.0”

Mike let out the tiniest laugh, then put the phone down.

“STEVE!” Dustin’s yell came barreling through next, like he hadn’t just seen them a few days ago. “EDDIE! Oh my God- okay that was agonizing. But I can’t wait to see you again! You owe me like, a whole dinner and a new campaign AND an explanation about vampire biology.”

Steve laughed wetly. God he had missed this kid. “Yeah kid, alright. Soon… Dustybuns.”

“You better.” There was a fond sniffle before he relinquished the receiver.

Robin snatched it next. “Hey dumbasses,” she said, but her voice was thick. “Don’t do anymore heroic, traumatic, stupid crap until I see you again, okay?”

“Yes mom.” They chorused.

“That’s what I thought.. Love you dingus.” She whispered, and they could hear her smiling as she passed the phone on.

“...Hello?” Nancy’s voice was soft, fragile. “Steve.. Eddie.. Hi.” She sounded like she’d been crying too. “I’m.. I’m so glad. Just- really glad to hear you both. We’ll… Talk soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, Nance. Soon.”

“Of course Wheeler.”

Jonathan took over next. “Hey.” He said, simple, sincere. “It hadn’t been the same without you Steve. Without either of you. I’m really happy you’re back.” He didn’t linger, quiet as ever, passing it off.

“Steve?” Will’s voice- gentle, careful. “I missed you.” A wobbly wet inhale. “And I-I can’t wait to meet you, Eddie.”

Eddie blinked fast, smiling. “Can’t wait to meet you too.. Will the Wise.”

Then a longer pause followed. A fumble.

Finally- Max.

Her breathing hitched before she even got a word out. “You’re both… Giant assholes.” She finally got out, voice raw from crying. “...But I’m really glad you’re alive.”

“Us too, Red.” Eddie rasped. Steve could only nod, even though she couldn’t see it. Tears streaming down his cheeks.

She didn’t say anything else- just placed the receiver down with a soft thud.

The line stayed quiet for a moment. Then they heard the familiar click of someone else lifting the receiver.

“...Boys?” Wayne’s voice- thick, steadying itself.

“Yeah.” Steve answered, the word little more than a wet breath.

“I’ll see you both soon. Gonna stay here a while and answer whatever questions they throw at me.” He exhales softly- exhausted, proud, overwhelmed. “You did good. Both of you.”

“Thank you, Wayne.” Eddie murmured, his hand clutching Steve’s so tightly it almost hurt.

“Yeah.” Steve echoed again, voice cracking but more sure of itself. “Thank you for.. All of it.”

There was only a hum on the other side, then the receiver settled into its cradle with a soft click.

The line went dead.

Silence bloomed sharp in the bunker.

Steve didn’t move for a second- still seated on the loveseat with Eddie’s hand threaded through his. His eyes stung and he realized he’d been holding his breath again. Beside him, Eddie finally let out a long shuddering exhale.

“...Holy shit.” Eddie whispered.

Steve let out a weak, watery laugh. He dropped his head forward, free hand dragging over his face. “That was… That was everyone.”

“Felt like getting hit by a bus.. Made of emotions.” Eddie mumbled, voice shaky despite the joke.

They stayed there for a few more calming breaths in the quiet. Eddie leaned sideways until their shoulders rested flush again. Steve tilted into him without thought, phone still clutched forgotten in his lap. Their bond was buzzing- overloaded- but so warm it felt like it might pour light through their ribs.

“Hey.” Eddie murmured eventually, bumping their foreheads together. “We did it. You hear that? They know. And they… They miss us.”

He nodded slowly, eyes glazed with relief, fear, hope- everything tangled. He turned, pressing his forehead more firmly against Eddie’s.

“We did it.” He whispered.

And for a long, long moment, they just stayed like that- clinging to each other in the quiet, letting it sink in that everything was finally, actually, changing.

They still didn’t move.

The phone lay forgotten on Steve’s thigh, but neither of them could bring themselves to break the fragile quiet now crackling almost tender around them.

Eddie’s thumb moved slowly over the back of Steve’s hand- not for comfort exactly, just to feel. To remind himself that they were okay. That heartbeat or now, Steve was here.

He finally tipped sideways and let his head rest on Eddie’s shoulder. His eyes were glassy, but the corners of his mouth were tugged into the smallest hint of a smile.

“This is… Real?” He whispered, like he was trying to convince himself more than anything.

Eddie let his cheek rest against Steve’s hair. “Yeah, sweetheart.” He murmured back, voice scratchy with emotion. “This is real.”

His fingers twitched and Eddie instantly tightened his hold, threading their hands together properly again- interlocking each finger. He huffed a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh and turned his face into Eddie’s face, just breathing him in quietly.

For a while, it was just that: warmth, silence, and the faint vibration of their bond- not pulsing with terror or heartache or grief for once.. Just steady. Full.

He pressed a tiny kiss to the skin just beneath Eddie’s jaw. His lips moved there, silently.

-Thank you.- It wasn’t spoken, it thrummed gently across the bond, loud enough that it could have been.

Eddie squeezed his fingers back. ‘Nowhere else I’d rather be.’

Steve smiled, sleepy and soft.

From somewhere overhead came the muffled hum of the bunker’s ventilation system. Pipes groaned. Lights hummed. But down here flesh pressed to flesh, two monsters who had clawed their way back into their lives just existed- curled in on themselves, not needing to fill the space with words.

Eventually, Steve shifted a little, curling sideways to drape his legs across Eddie’s lap. Eddie moved with him instantly- one arm sliding around Steve’s shoulder, the other resting comfortably over his thighs. Steve’s eyes slipped shut.

“You tired?” Eddie’s voice was hardly louder than their breath.

“Exhausted.” He quietly admitted. “But… Not in a bad way.”

Eddie smiled, slow and soft. “Then we’ll just stay like this awhile. Till you fall asleep.”

Steve hummed in agreement, head tucked under Eddie’s chin. “Till we fall asleep.”

Eddie closed his eyes and pressed another kiss into Steve’s hair. “Works for me.”

Their breathing slowed together until the bunker became still again.

Before sleep could claim them, he quietly whispered out. “..Wish we had our couch back.”

Eddie snickered softly, giving Steve’s thigh a gentle squeeze. “I’ll make sure we see it again.”

They were together. They were safe. This is real.

---

Steve drifted awake to warmth and softness he didn’t remember falling asleep with.

There was a pillow wedged under their heads now, and a blanket tucked over the both of them. Eddie’s breath was a slow, steady brush against his temple. At some point they had laid back, and Steve had curled in so far he was practically burrowed into Eddie’s chest.

The phone, he realized blearily, had been returned to its cradle on the side table.

There were voices somewhere down the hall- low and muffled. Wayne and… Doc, from the sound of it. Talking through something quietly.

He blinked sleep from his lashes just as Eddie stirred beneath him with a barely-there groan.

Eddie squinted at the world, then glanced down at Steve with heavy-lidded affection. “Hey, pretty.”

He snorted softly. “Morning.”

He shifted, pulling his legs back toward himself. Eddie immediately helped untangle them, careful not to jostle him. Their blanket slid off his shoulders.

Once they were upright, Eddie leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to Steve’s cheek, soft and slow.

His fingers brushed along Eddie’s jaw in turn before he slowly rose to his feet.

They padded down the hallway together, silent and barefoot, letting their fingers link naturally.

Wayne glanced up from behind the stove just as they pushed into the kitchen. He was flipping pancakes, a gentle smile already etched across his face. “Mornin’ boys.”

Across the counter, Doc had a small saucepan off the stove, swirling two mugs under the rising steam. The coppery scent told them instantly it wasn’t coffee this time.

Steve rubbed sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Morning.”

Eddie blinked at the sight. “Are those.. Pancakes?”

Wayne huffed. “Thought maybe it’d be a pancake kinda day.”

Doc looked over his shoulder. “And blood for you two. Because apparently someone still needs to remember your dietary requirements.”

Eddie grinned, leaning into Steve’s side gently. “Sounds like a five-star breakfast to me.”

Steve smiled back- tried, but lighter. “Smells like home.”

Wayne just nodded and placed a fresh stack of golden pancakes on a plate, sliding two warmed mugs toward them. “Sit. Eat while it’s hot.”

They dug into warm pancakes and blood while Doc sipped his coffee and pretended not to hover. Wayne leaned his hip against the counter, watching Steve and Eddie with that soft, almost secret smile he saved just for them.

After a few minutes of quiet eating, Wayne cleared his throat gently. “Been thinkin’.” He started, watching them carefully. “About how we’re gonna handle meeting everybody else.”

He paused mid-chew. Eddie’s hand stilled around his mug.

Wayne held up a hand. “I ain’t sayin’ it has to be today. Or even tomorrow. But we need to decide soon.”

Steve swallowed thickly. “You thinking… Two at a time again? Like with Dustin and Robin?”

Wayne hesitated. Then shrugged. “I thought so at first. Honestly it’s up to you boys but..” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Might be easier to pull the band-aid off in one go.”

Eddie blinked. “Everyone.. At once?”

“Not here, of course.” Wayne nodded to himself. “At my place, or Hopper’s cabin since it’s also secluded. I can handle the questions, temper the panic, keep things calm. You’d only have to go through it all once. Instead of over and over.”

His hand drifted toward Eddie’s under the table. Their fingers brushed, locked. The bond buzzed uneasily between them as they shared half-formed fears: What if it’s too much? What if they look at us differently?.. What if we break?

Wayne must’ve seen it all play across their faces anyway. He softened. “Or we stick to small groups. Maybe two or three at a time. Like I said- I’ll do whatever suits you. Not what you think they or I want.. I just hate the thought of you goin’ through the emotional wringer again and again until you’re wrung dry.”

Eddie’s shoulders sagged, just a little- the relief of being given the choice. “..We’ll think about it.” He said quietly.

Steve nodded, squeezing his fingers. “Yeah.” He offered Wayne a small, grateful smile. “Thank you for.. Worrying about how much we can handle.”

Wayne grunted, but his eyes were bright. “Worryin’ ‘bout you two is my job.”

Doc lifted his coffee in a silent toast, seconding that.

Steve and Eddie leaned into each other’s side- pancakes half eaten, hearts aching. The future still terrified them.

But they had a choice now. People waiting for them. They didn’t think they’d ever get this again.

---

The thud of feet hitting the mat echoed through the bunker’s training room as Steve ducked low, pivoting on the balls of his feet, shoulder rolling beneath Eddie’s swing. Eddie’s momentum carried him forward on instinct- one, two steps- before Steve was behind him, knuckles brushing Eddie’s spine in the ghost of a tap.

-Point to me.- He playfully sent through the bond, smug.

Eddie growled under his breath, wheeling back to face him. His curls were damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead, fangs just visible where his lips pulled back.

‘Only because you’re got stupid ballerina reflexes. Was one year of high school swim really worth this much flexibility?’

He grinned. -Excuse you. I was the swim team captain and a certified lifeguard for three years.- He mocked.

They circled again. Bare feet moved silently against the mat. Shoulders loose, knees bent. Eddie threw a feint to the left; Steve leaned out of the way without thinking, dodge smooth. Eddie’s lips twitched at that.

-About the meeting.- He brushed across the bond, tense through flickering under the surface of their spar like a bruise beneath skin. -If we do it all at once… We get it over with, less shock for us over time.-

He countered with a high block, batting Eddie’s wrist aside. -More shock in the moment, sure.- He snapped forward with a jab that Eddie ducked under. Eddie swore silently, rolled, and came up low like an animal waiting to spring. -They might freak out. Harder to manage all that emotion in one room… Though Wayne said he’d help.-

A yell echoed crackling overhead through a speaker in the wall; Doc’s voice booming in annoyance. “If either of you break another wall, I swear to God you’ll be training in the woods!”

Both of them ignored it. A threat they’d heard countless times already.

He lunged without warning- but Eddie, expecting it, dropped flat and kicked out. Steve’s ankles were swept clean from beneath him. His shoulders hit the mat hard enough to rattle it.

‘Ha!’ Eddie sent triumphantly.

But rather than stay down he used the bounce- letting his spine roll, knees tucking tight to his chest before he snapped upward. His legs uncoiled, laughing him into a fluid handspring, flipping back onto his feet.

Eddie’s grin wavered. ‘Show off.’

-You love it.- He shot back.

Eddie darted forward- faster- hand blurring toward Steve’s sternum, but he twisted at the waist, answering with an elbow strike toward Eddie’s ribs. Eddie caught it with a cross-arm block, taking the heat, letting it push him a step back.

-The kids might yes,- he continued, then lunged again with a low sweep at Eddie’s hip- Eddie hopped over it. -Might cry. Mike might punch me for being gone.-

‘From what you’ve told me.. Will might pass out.’ Eddie though grimly, jaw tight as he countered Steve’s grab and locked their forearms. Their arms shook with tension. ‘Or he might hug you so hard he cracks his own ribs.. Wayne said he’s gotten tall.’

Another warning blared through the speaker. “Keep it on the mats!”

They both smirked and shoved backwards, breaking apart. Sweat beaded on Steve’s temple. Eddie wiped a palm on his pants, eyes hungry.

-But if we do it two at a time… Wayne’s right. Emotional roller coaster again and again.- He pressed, blocking Eddie’s neck jab with his forearm. -I don’t know if I can take reliving it. Over and over.-

Eddie hesitated. Then nodded silently, even as he came in again. Steve swiped his arm aside. Their limbs blurred- seamless choreography born of hours of training and too much desperation.

‘So we.. What? Just do it? All at once?.. Get it over with?’ Eddie’s thoughts trembled, despite the lightning reflexes of his body.

He caught Eddie’s wrist and flipped him- gravity bending as Eddie went head over heels.

Eddie hit the mat flat on his back with a slam that rattled the bolts on the wall bar.

Doc yelled something wordless from down the hall now.

Steve stood over him, chest heaving, hair messed, eyes burning gold in the fluorescent light. -Yeah.- He thought with a soft certainty, reaching down a hand to pull Eddie back up. -We do it all at once.-

Eddie took the offered hand, letting Steve haul him upright. He didn’t let go- just tugged Steve toward him, foreheads nearly bumping.

‘Screw it…. Rip the bandaid.’ Eddie agreed. Beneath the words, Steve could feel his bond trembling- anxious, terrified, determined. Eddie’s heart beating in his thoughts.

His fingers tightened around Eddie’s hand. -Together.-

‘Always.’

They didn’t kiss- not here, not yet.

But when Steve gave a gentle, exhausted tug toward the locker room, Eddie followed without a single breath of hesitation.

And for once, they both felt like maybe they were ready.

---

Steve tugged his sweat-drenched shirt over his head, hair mused and cheeks flushed from sparring. He tossed the fabric into his locker and scrubbed a hand over his face with a weary sigh.

The price on the back of his neck made him pause.

He looked up, eyes narrowing- and sure enough. Eddie was leaning against the tiled wall by the showers, arms flooded, still in his training clothes, doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he was staring.

He snorted. “You see something you like, Munson?”

Eddie’s smirk only sharpened- fangs peeking into view as his gaze slid deliberately down Steve’s exposed chest, slow as honey. “Mmhmm.” He hummed, altogether unapologetic. “As a matter of fact, Harrington.. I really do.”

Steve rolled his eyes, even as his cheeks turned faintly pink. “Pervert.”

Eddie didn’t bother denying it. He pushed off the wall with the grace of a lazy predator and prowled forward across the tiles- all confidence and dark curls a look that always managed to hit Steve somewhere soft, dangerous.

When he reached him, Eddie lifted one hand and curled two fingers gently under Steve’s chin- nudging it until their eyes met.

“I love when you look like this,” Eddie murmured. “All flushed and cocky. And wrecked from me.”

Then, without waiting, he dipped his head and kissed him- hungry, claiming. Steve melted into it immediately, hands curling in Eddie’s shirt as their mouths slid together hot and sweet. Eddie angled his head, deepening the kiss, his fingers sliding up along Steve’s jaw to cup his neck. Steve made a soft noise, caught somewhere between a sigh and a whine when he pressed himself fully against Eddie.

Their bond thrummed bright beneath their skin- warm, humming, alive.

Eddie pulled back just far enough to brush his lips against Steve’s with each word. “Get in the shower before I decide we’re washing up together.” He growled, voice rough and wicked.

The threat sent a shiver up Steve’s spine in a way he’d never admit. He let loose a shaky laugh and swatted Eddie’s hand away. “Yeah yeah- down boy.” Smirking, he backed up toward the showers, letting his pants fall on the way.

Eddie watched him go with the kind of gaze that made his knees weak.

He turned on the water- still feeling Eddie’s eyes on him- and told himself he was definitely pulling his boyfriend in under the spray after all.

Steam curled off the tiles almost instantly, fogging up the mirrors and rolling over their bare skin in soft, humid waves. He ducked his head under the hot spray, water streaking down his collarbones and back, muscles unwinding from the fight.

He heard rather than saw Eddie step in behind him.

Long fingers skimmed up his sides before he could turn- slow, appreciative- and then those hands splayed over his hips, tugging his back flush against a familiar, now bare chest.

Steve shivered.

“You really were just gonna shower without me?” Eddie leaned down to purr into his ear, lips brushing behind it. Steve could feel the edge of fang even through the whisper.

“Figured you were too busy eye-fucking me from across the room.” He muttered, leaning back just enough to bump his head lightly against Eddie’s shoulder.

“Oh sweetheart, I can multitask.” Eddie’s hand slid lower, teasing, while his other drifted up to tilt Steve’s chin. “Look at you.” He breathed. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He swallowed hard- pointless but reflective- and turned in Eddie’s hold.

The moment their eyes met, Eddie surged forward.

Mouths collided, wet and desperate, the kiss immediately hungry in that way they only ever were with each other- fangs scraping, tongue sliding.

Steam curled around them as Eddie pressed Steve back against the tile. One hand framed Steve’s face; the other roamed over his ribs, his waist, like he couldn’t decide what to touch first.

He clutched at Eddie’s shoulders, blunt nails digging in, hips rolling forward without conscious thought when Eddie’s thigh pushed deliberately between his.

“Mmm.” Eddie growled into Steve’s mouth as water ran in sheets down their chests. He nipped at the plush bottom lip, dragging fangs just threateningly enough to make Steve gasp out a noise that was embarrassingly close to a whine. Eddie’s grin flashed, feral. “There it is.”

He retaliated by yanking hard at a fistful of curls.

Eddie’s hiss turned molten. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“You’re already dead.” He whispered, tipping his head shamelessly to bare his neck.

“Still.” Eddie said- and then bit.

Not deep: playful, claiming, just enough to sink fangs in and feel the pulse that shouldn’t be there. Steve moaned- high, needy- and his fingers spasmed against Eddie’s scalp.

Their bond flared hot and sharp enough that Steve’s knees almost gave out.

“Fuck.” Eddie’s voice was rough as he licked the bite closed. “We keep this up and we are not going to do much else today.”

His smile was wrecked and wicked all at once. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Eddie kissed him again- slower this time, sweeter but no less intense- his hands wandering in that familiar, reverent way that said mine. Steve melted under every touch, meeting him kiss for kiss as water pooled at their ankles and steam swirled around their bodies like smoke.

Eventually- eventually- Eddie groaned into his mouth. “Mm. Okay. We should actually shower before I forget why we’re in here.”

Steve bumped their noses together, eyes hazy, before sealing one last, slow, kiss. “Fine.. But I’m not promising I’ll behave.”

“That makes two of us.”

They reached for the soap with trembling hands, still stealing kisses between later and rinse cycles, until the steam finally began to fade and reality reluctantly pulled them back toward the world beyond the tiles…

They stepped out of the shower, water still dripping as they grabbed towels from the rack. The only sound was the faint hum of fluorescents mixing with the soft patter of lingering drops hitting the floor.

He scrubbed the towel over his hair, mussing it into a damp mess, before draping it loosely around his hips. His skin was still flushed from the heat of the shower- and from other things- as he made his way to his locker.

Eddie was already there, half-dressed, his towel slung low on his waist as he rummaged through his locker. Steve’s eyes kept darting over. He bit his lip hard, trying to focus on pulling out his own clothes, but his gaze kept snagging on the way water still clung to Eddie’s pale skin, trailing down the sharp lines of his back. The way his tattoos seemed to shift with every flex of muscle. Steve’s fingers twitched with the urge to trace them.

He caught himself staring again and quickly looked away.

Eddie tugged a clean black shirt from his locker, shaking it out before pulling it over his head. As he pulled it on, he glanced over, catching Steve staring again. A slow, crooked smirk spread across his lips, all sharp edges and knowing mischief.

He straightened, one hand resting on his locker door, the other casually adjusting the shirt as it settled. “Like what you see, Harrington?” Eddie’s voice was low, reading, throwing Steve’s earlier jab right back at him. His eyes glinted with amusement, but there was heat there too, simmering just beneath the surface.

Steve’s breath hitched, a quiet, almost involuntary noise of agreement slipping out- a soft hum that he couldn’t quite stifle. His cheeks flared even hotter, but he didn’t look away this time. Didn’t even try to play it cool. Instead, still bare except for the towel around his hips, he took a step closer, then another, until he was right in front of Eddie, the space between them crackling.

Eddie’s smirk faltered for a second, replaced by something hungrier as Steve closed the gap. Without a word, Steve reached up, one hand curling around the back of Eddie’s neck to pull him down into a kiss.

It wasn’t gentle or tentative- it was heated, desperate, all teeth and tongue from the start. Steve pressed himself against Eddie, the damp heat of skin meeting the cool fabric, a low sound rumbled in his chest as their mouths moved together, hungry and unrestrained.

His free hand slid down to Eddie’s hips, fingers digging into the sharp jut of bone there, grounding himself as the kiss deepened. Then, almost tentatively, his touch drifted lower, fingertips brushing over the patch of hair just above Eddie’s waist, teasing at the edge of where the towel still hung loose. He let his fingers linger, tracing slow, circular patterns.

Eddie groaned into the kiss, the sound rough and raw, vibrating against Steve’s lips. His hands moved fast, sliding down Steve’s back to grab his ass with a firm, possessive grip, pulling him even closer.

The movement made the towel around Steve’s hips shift, nearly slipping, but neither of them cared. Eddie’s fingers dug in, kneading as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, fangs scraping lightly against Steve’s bottom lip in a way that made him shudder.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” Eddie muttered against his mouth, voice thick and wrecked already. He squeezed harder, dragging Steve’s hips flush against his own, letting him feel just how much he was enjoying this.

His response was a shaky breath, his fingers still teasing at that line of hair, dipping just a fraction lower before sliding back up to grip Eddie’s hip again. “Thought we already covered that.” He groaned, voice low, before leaning back in for another kiss, just as hungry as the first. Their bodies pressed tight, the locker room air now cool against their overheated skin, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but the heat building between them.

The kiss burned, raw and consuming, lips crashing, an endless unrelenting want. His fingers tightened on Eddie’s hip, his other hand still tangled at the nape of his neck, pulling at damp curls. Eddie’s grip on his ass didn’t let up, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks that would fade too quickly. He suddenly pressed Steve back against the cold metal of the lockers with a dull thud.

“Fuck, you drive me insane baby.” Eddie growled against his lips. Dragging his mouth down, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses along Steve’s jaw. Steve tilted his head back again, a quiet, needy sound escaping him as Eddie’s fangs grazed just barely over the sensitive skin of his throat, teasing this time.

Slowly Eddie’s hand slid from his ass, fingers trailing around to the front, brushing over the edge of the towel still clinging loosely to his hips. “This thing’s in the way.” He muttered, voice dripping with heat as cool fingers hooked over the fabric.

Slowly, he tugged, letting the damp towel slip free and fall to the tiled floor. The air of the locker room hit his bare skin, cool against the still lingering heat from the shower, and he shivered, his body now completely exposed under Eddie’s hungry gaze.

Eddie pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes dark and predatory, flickering with a crimson edge. “Goddamn sweetheart, look at you.” He rasped, his hands sliding back to Steve’s hips, thumbs brushing over the sharp lines of bone before dipping lower, teasing at the sensitive skin just below his waist.

Then he leaned in, mouth finding Steve’s neck again, but this time it was blunt teeth- not fangs- that nipped gently at the flesh, a playful, possessive bite just hard enough to make Steve jolt.

“Tell me sweetheart. What is it you want? Hmm?” Eddie whispered against his skin, voice low and intimate, lips brushing the spot he’d just bitten as he spoke. His tone was a quiet command, coaxing, almost teasing, but laced with a hunger that mirrored Steve’s own.

He let out a high, desperate whine, his head craning further to the side, baring his neck for Eddie’s teeth, silently begging for more. His hands slid up Eddie’s back, under the hum of his shirt, fingers digging into cool skin as he pressed closer, hips rolling forward instinctively. “More.” He managed, voice raspy and barely above a whisper. “Just.. More of you. Please.”

Eddie’s chuckle was dark, almost a growl, as he nipped again a little harder this time, blunt teeth dragging over the same spot before soothing it with a slow lick. “Yeah? You want me to mark you up, huh?” His hands roamed lower, one gripping Steve’s tight, his fingers pressing in, while the other slid back to his ass, kneading roughly. “I can do that. Gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Steve’s responding moan was sharp, unrestrained, his fingers clawing at Eddie’s shoulders as he was overwhelmed. Eddie’s mouth working at his neck, alternating between soft bites, and slow, deliberate kisses, each touch stoking the fire building between them.

Eddie’s blunt teeth dragged over his neck again, nipping at the tender skin just below his jawline with a deep pressure, leaving dark, but human, imprints in his skin. “So fuckin’ gorgeous like this sweetheart.” He murmured, voice rumbling against Steve’s throat as he bit down harder on a fresh spot, pulling the skin lightly with his teeth. The he fucked hard, drawping up a deep blooming bruise into the pale canvas of Steve’s neck.

He whined, high and desperate, his hands digging into Eddie’s shoulders, nails nearly ripping into the fabric as his hips rolled forward, grinding against Eddie’s still covered thigh in a needy rhythm. “Fffuckk!” He groaned, voice breaking on the word, his body trembling with every scrape of teeth, every pull of Eddie’s mouth.

The friction between them was maddening. The rough texture of Eddie’s towel still somehow tied around his waist rubbing against his bare skin, driving him closer to the edge with every thrust.

Eddie smirked against his neck, the curve of his lips wicked and knowing. “That’s it baby, keep goin’. Look at you, fallin’ apart for me.” He groaned, hot breath fanning over the fresh bruise before his tone shifted, a predatory edge creeping in. Without warning, his fangs sank into Steve’s neck, sharp and deep, piercing through the flesh with a jolt of searing pleasure.

Steve’s eyes rolled back, a choked, guttural moan ripping from his throat as his entire body locked up, every muscle tensing under the overwhelming rush. The sensation of Eddie’s fangs buried in his throat, feeding that primal bond between them, sent white-hot pleasure coursing through his veins. His hips kept moving, thrusting harder against Eddie’s thigh, the pleasure building to a breaking point as his mind blanked out with ecstasy.

Eddie pulled back slowly, his tongue dragging slow and sweet over the puncture wounds, sealing them with a wet, possessive swipe. “So good for me sweetheart.” He purred, voice thick with satisfaction as he shifted to a new spot just below Steve’s collarbone. His fangs sank in again, slower this time, drawing out the sensation as Steve shuddered beneath him, a broken string of whimpers and groans spilling from his lips.

The second bite pushed him over the edge. His body tensed on final time before release hit him hard, a wave of pleasure so intense it nearly knocked him off his feet.

He came, hot and messy, spilling over Eddie’s thigh that had wedged firmly between his legs, the slick warmth soaking into the towel and even itching to catch across the stomach of Eddie’s shirt. It was a lot, more than he’d expected, leaving him trembling as his thrusts slowed, hips jerking with the aftershocks.

Steve went almost boneless. Soft, overwhelmed noises slipping from his lips- quiet whimpers and sighs as his head ripped back against the lockers, eyes half lidded and hazy. His hands slid down to Eddie’s arms, grip loosening as the high ebbed into a warm, stated fog.

Eddie eased back slowly, his tongue gliding over the fresh bite marks, lapping at the last traces of blood with a tenderness that contrasted the ferocity of the moments before. “Fuck baby, you’re just perfect.” He whispered, lips brushing the bruised skin as he spoke. “Look at the mess you made.” His voice was quiet, full of awe and pride, one hand sliding up to cup Steve’s jaw, thumb brushing over his flushed cheek. “I’ve got ya, alright? Just relax sweetheart. You did so good.”

He managed a weak hum, leaning into the touch, his body still buzzing with the aftermath as Eddie’s words wrapped around him like a warm blanket, grounding him in the quiet of the locker room.

Slowly he cracked his eyes open, lashes fluttering, unsure of when he closed them. His body felt heavy, still buzzing with the afterglow, limbs loose and lethargic against the cool metal of the locker behind him.

He blinked up at Eddie, vision a little hazy, as his gaze dropped lower, noticing the obvious bulge still straining beneath the dirtied towel around Eddie’s waist. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, words sluggish as they stumbled out. “But… Y’re still hard.”

Eddie’s lips curled into a soft, easy smile, his hand sliding from Steve’s jaw to little his chin up gently. He leaned in, pressing a slow, tender kiss to his lips. “That’s alright, baby.” He murmured against Steve’s mouth, voice warm and reassuring. “I’m just glad you’re feeling so good right now. That’s all I need.”

His brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of determination cutting through the haze as his hands moved, fingers fumbling weakly at the towel still clinging stubbornly to Eddie’s hips.

Eddie’s eyes softened as he caught Steve’s wrists gently, stopping him. “Hey, you don’t have to, okay? You’re wiped. Just relax.”

He shook his head, the movement slow and a little clumsy, still damp hair flopping onto his face as he did. “No… I want to.” He mumbled, voice still thick but stubborn. His tired eyes met Eddie’s, a small, pleading edge to them. “Wanna make you feel good too.”

A quiet breath escaped Eddie, a smile tugging at his lips as he studied Steve for a moment. Then, with a small nod, he relented, slowly letting go of Steve’s wrists. “Alright, sweetheart. Just.. Don’t push yourself, yeah? We got all the time in the world.”

He managed a faint, lopsided smile, his fingers working again at the towel. With a weak tug, he pulled it free, letting it drop to the tiled floor. He paused for a second, just staring down at Eddie’s cock, now fully exposed- hard and flushed, a bead of pre already glistening at the tip. His voice came out soft, almost awestruck, as he mumbled. “Pretty.”

Eddie tilted his head, a confused hum escaping him. “Hmm? What’s that?”

Steve’s smile turned a bit stupid, dopey and unguarded as he clarified. “Your dick… Is pretty.” His words were slurred with lingering bliss, but they carried a genuine weight as his eyes flicked over every detail- the curve, the veins, the way it twitched under his gaze.

A sharp amused snort escaped Eddie as his hand moved to rest lightly on the back of Steve’s head, fingers threading through damp hair. “You’re just a little cock-dumb right now, aren’t ya?”

Steve hummed in agreement, not even denying it, his eyes still fixed on Eddie as he slowly sank to his knees. The tile was cold against his skin, grounding him a bit more, but he didn’t care.

Leaning forward, he placed a soft, almost reverent kiss on the head of Eddie’s cock, letting the stick pre smear across his lips. He pulled back just enough to dart his tongue out, licking it off slowly, savoring the bitter taste with a quiet sigh.

His hands rested on Eddie’s exposed thighs, thumbs brushing over the coarse hair there as he took his time, admiring everything about him- the thickness, the weight, the way thighs tensed under his touch. “So pretty.” He muttered under his breath, words meant more for himself than Eddie.

Then he sat back on his heels, looking up at Eddie with that same stupid, smitten smile. His eyes were half-lidded, hazy but eager, as he opened his mouth, letting his tongue hang out. He blinked up at Eddie, waiting, an unspoken invitation in the way he held himself, pliant and ready.

Eddie groaned, the sound rough and deep, his hand tightening in Steve’s hair. “Fuck, you were just made for me, weren’t ya?” He rasped, his other hand wrapping around the base of his cock. He guided it slowly toward Steve’s waiting mouth, the tip brushing against his outstretched tongue before sliding past his lips, slowly filling his mouth inch by inch.

Steve’s eyes fluttered, a soft, content noise humming in his throat as he took it, letting Eddie set the pace, his hands still gripping Eddie’s thighs for balance as he surrendered completely to enjoy the moment.

Eddie paused as he fully seated himself in Steve’s throat, the tight, warm heat enveloping him completely. A low guttural groan rumbled from his chest, his fingers tugging gently at Steve’s damp hair, just enough to send a shiver through him. “Fuck, baby, you feel so damn good, always do.” He rasped, voice thick with pleasure. “Takin’ me so well, like you were made for this. So perfect for me.”

He tilted his head down, dark eyes locked on Steve’s face, watching the way his lips stretched around him, the faint glimmer of drool already starting to escape. “You remember your signals, yeah?” He asked, his tone softening, just a touch. Concern threading through the heat.

Steve hummed around him, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure up Eddie’s spine. He gave a small, barely there nod, as best as he could. His grip tightened weakly around Eddie’s thighs, tapping twice, then three times in quick succession, the agreed-upon sign to check in or stop if needed.

Eddie’s smile was warm, almost tender, despite the situation. “Good boy.” He murmured, his thumb brushing over the shell of Steve’s ear. “Just remember to use ‘em if you need to, alright?”

His hands moved to gently cup behind Steve’s ears, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there as he slowly started to pull out, just halfway, letting Steve feel the drag before pushing back in with a controlled, gentle thrust.

He held himself there for a second, savoring the right grip of Steve’s throat, watching the way his eyes fluttered half shut with the sensation. “That’s it sweetheart.” He breathed, voice low, encouraging. “Just like that.”

He slowly began to pick up the pace, his movements still careful but growing bolder, each thrust deeper as he found a rhythm. “Look at you, takin’ every damn inch.” He growled, his hips rocking a little faster now, the wet slick sounds filling the locker room, echoing off the walls. “Feels so fuckin’ amazing baby. You’re killin’ me here.”

Steve’s response was a muffled groan, the sound vibrating around Eddie’s cock as his throat worked to accommodate every thrust. His moans grew louder, broken and needy, drool slipping past his lips to drip down his chin, sliding down his neck. His hands gripped Eddie’s thighs tighter, fingers digging into the cool skin, not to stop but to hold on, to pull himself closer as if he couldn’t get enough. His body trembled with the effort, but his eyes- when they flicked up to meet Eddie’s- were glazed and raw, desperate with want.

“That’s my good boy.” Eddie panted, his voice deep but full of pride as his hips moved faster, the pace still measured but turning relentless now. “Love hearin’ those sounds, love seein’ you like this. So damn beautiful with your mouth stuffed full. You love takin’ my cock, don’t ya? Yeah, you do. Fuckin’ made for this.” His words poured out, a steady stream of filthy praise, each one punctuated by the slick thrust of his cock down Steve’s throat, driving them both closer to the edge with every passing second.

He moved his hands to curl into Steve’s hair, using just enough force to make a sharp tug as his hips snapped forward harder, thrusts growing, unyielding. Each movement drove deeper into Steve’s throat, the wet, slick sounds of skin against skin echoing in the empty showers, raw and obscene. His control started to slip, the primal edge taking over as he chased the building heat.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it.” He growled, voice dropping to a gritty snarl, though the undercurrent of affection still lingered. “Takin’ my cock like a goddamn pro baby. Just a perfect little hole for me, aren’t ya? Lettin’ me use this pretty throat however I want.” His words were sharper now, meaner, but the way his thumb brushed over Steve’s ear, the way his eyes stayed locked on him with raw adoration, made it clear it was all part of the game they both craved.

Steve moaned desperately, the sound spilling out around Eddie’s cock, muffled but desperate, vibrating through him in a way that made Eddie’s hips stutter for a split second. His throat worked around the relentless thrusts, muscles straining but welcoming every rough push, every bruising snap of Eddie’s hips.

Drool poured from his lips, thick and messy, streaming down his chin and dripping onto his neck with every thrust, coating his skin in a slick sheet. His hands clung to Eddie’s thighs, fingers digging in hard, urging him on, loving every brutal second of being used like this.

“Goddamn, look at you.” Eddie rasped, his pace turning punishing now, using Steve’s throat like a sleeve, every thrust now slamming in with no hesitation as he barreled toward the edge. “Droolin’ all over yourself, makin’ such a fuckin’ mess for me. Love seein’ you like this, so fuckin’ wrecked. You’re mine, aren’t ya? My perfect little cock slut, just a hole for me to fuck into.” His voice was a rough growl, biting and filthy, but the possessive warmth behind it was undeniable, wrapping around Steve even as the words cut sharp.

Steve’s moans turned into keening whines, high and broken, his body trembling under the onslaught. His eyes fluttering as he looked up at Eddie, tears mixing with the drool as he let himself be taken, reveling in the toughness, the way Eddie claimed him so thoroughly.

He rocked his head forward slightly, meeting the thrusts as best as he could, eager for more, for everything, his own need rising despite the exhaustion still clinging to his limbs. Shivering as he caused Eddie to yank on his hair with his own movements.

“Close baby, so fuckin’ close.” Eddie bit out. “You’re gonna take every drop, yeah? My good boy, always do fuckin’ good for me.” His thrusts grew erratic, harder still, using Steve with a single-minded intensity as the tension coiled tight, each filthy praise spilling like a mantra, driving them both closer to the edge.

Suddenly Eddie let out a deep, guttural growl, the sound vibrating from somewhere deep in his chest as his control snapped completely. His grip in Steve’s hair tightened, yanking him forward hard, burying his cock as deep as he could down Steve’s throat. “Fuckin’ take it!” He snarled, hips snapping as he started cumming, wave after wave of release flooding out. It was intense, overwhelming, thick spurts filling Steve’s throat with heat as Eddie held him there for a moment, riding the first peak with rough but shallow thrusts.

Slowly, he eased back, dragging his cock out inch by inch, letting the next spurts coat Steve’s tongue, filling his mouth with the bitter, familiar taste. “Goddamn, I know you love this,don’t ya?” Eddie groaned, watching Steve’s lips work around him, slick with drool and cum. “Love how I taste, love bein’ filled by me.”

Without warning, he pulled out entirely, hand wrapping around the base of his cock as he aimed it at Steve’s face. “Fuck it, we’re already needing another shower anyway.” He rasped with a deep chuckle, stroking himself through the last of his release. Thick, heavy spurts show across Steve’s face, coming his cheeks, dripping down his jaw, painting his skin in messy streaks. It was a massive load, more than even Eddie expected, marking Steve in a way that felt raw and possessive.

Steve kept his mouth open, tongue hanging out, a needy whine escaping him as more cum landed there, mixing with the mess already dripping from his face. His eyes were half-closed, hazy with lust, drool and cum dripping down his chin as he savored every drop, every feeling of hot cum hitting his skin.

The moment Eddie had slammed him down, burying himself deep at the start of his release, Steve’s body reacted instantly. Untouched, his own release hit again, a sharp, sudden wave of pleasure crashing through him.

Hot, sticky streaks spilled from him, splattering onto the tile below, his hips jerking uncomfortably as he moaned around the lingering taste in his mouth. His hands still gripped Eddie’s thighs, trembling with the aftershocks, his whole body a mess of sensations.

“Look at you.” Eddie murmured, voice still rough but softer now, as he milked the last drops onto Steve’s tongue, watching him shiver through the end of his own climax. “Coming again just from takin’ me. You’re a goddamn mess, and I fuckin’ love it.” His hand loosened in Steve’s hair, thumb brushing over his scallop as he took in the sight- Steve, covered and spent, still kneeling there, open and wanting even now.

Eddie’s dark eyes softened as he looked down at the mess he’d made of Steve, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He slowly reached down, two fingers dragging across Steve’s cheek, scooping up the thick streaks that coated his skin. “Look at you, still so fuckin’ good for me.” He murmured as he brought his fingers to Steve’s lips.

He let some of it lightly coat Steve’s lips before placing his fingers on his tongue. Steve started to weakly lap at Eddie’s fingers, his movements sluggish but eager. His glazed-over eyes flicking up to meet Eddie’s, a faint whimper escaping as he cleaned every drop from the digits, savoring the taste with a tired, stated hunger.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” Eddie praised, his tone dropping with affection. “So perfect.. You’re beautiful, you know that? My beautiful boy.” His other hand came up, smoothing down Steve’s messy hair, fingers carding through the strands gently, a tender contrast to the raw intensity moments go.

Steve started rocking forward, his lips wrapping around Eddie’s fingers more firmly, bobbing his head. His movements were slow, sloppy, but he continued needy even in his exhausted state, chasing the sensation as he sucked lightly.

Eddie chuckled softly, the sound rich and fond, watching Steve’s mouth work over his fingers. He slowly spread them over his tongue. “Can’t get enough, huh? Even when you’re half outta it, you’re still hungry for more.” He eased his fingers out slowly, a wet pop sounding as they left Steve’s lips, a thin string of saliva and cum trailing for a second before breaking.

Then he reached down again, scooping more of the mess from Steve’s jaw, dragging his fingers through the sticky warmth before sliding them back into Steve’s waiting mouth.

“You’re just unreal.” He muttered, voice a mix of awe and adoration as Steve’s tongue swirled around his fingers again, cleaning them with weak, greedy laps. “You’re so good for me sweetheart, absolutely perfect.” His hand in Steve’s hair kept stroking, soothing, and he fed him more, letting Steve lose himself in the act, the quiet intimacy wrapping around them in the aftermath of their feral heat.

---

Eddie’s hands were gentle as he slid them under Steve’s arms, supporting his weight with ease. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s wash up.” He murmured, soft and caring as he helped Steve to his feet. Steve’s legs wobbled slightly, still drained, but Eddie’s steady grip kept him upright, guiding him back toward the showers with a quiet patience.

The shower hissed to life again, the warm water misting across the tile. Eddie kept one arm around Steve’s waist, maneuvering him beneath the spray- letting his back rest against the tiled wall. He grabbed the bar of soap from its tray, working up a lather in slow, practiced fingers before starting to wash Steve.

Gentle strokes swept over his shoulders and collarbone, across his chest, rinsing away the mess of drool, sweat, and everything they’d just come undone by. “There he is.” Eddie whispered, lips brushing Steve’s temple in between passes. “You were so good for me sweetheart. And so beautiful too, always are.”

Steve hummed under his breath- a quiet, content sound- leaning into the touches. His eyes dropped half-closed, indescribably relaxed, every muscle loose for the first time in what felt like weeks.

Eddie moved patiently down his back, over his hips, hands sure and caring in contrast to the wild hunger he’d shown only minutes earlier. Every so often he dripped down to press a kiss to Steve’s shoulder or jaw, murmuring soft praise: Got you, and So good for me, and My perfect Stevie, so beautiful.

Once he was sure Steve was clean, Eddie ran the soap over himself quickly- never once taking his eyes off Steve, just in case his knees buckled again. When they were both clean, again, he shut off the water and grabbed two towels from the hooks.

He wrapped one around Steve first, gently patting him dry before looping the second one over his own waist. “C’mon.” He said, voice quieter now- fond in a way he saved especially for moments like this. “Let’s get you dressed, yeah?”

He slowly led Steve back to the lockers, helping him sit with a steadying hand on his back. He knelt to pull out clean clothes from the bottom locker. Piece by piece, he helped him into soft jeans and a fresh t-shirt. Steady hands guiding wrists into sleeves, brushing damp hair back from Steve’s forehead.

“There.” His fingers lingered as he closed the zipper of Steve’s jeans, a small smile on his lips. “Still lookin’ as good as ever.” Steve finally managed a small smile, eyes a little clearer now as he watched Eddie dress himself.

Eddie looked around at the scattered mess they’d left- towels, streaks across the tile- and started cleaning up without a word. He gathered the used towels, tossing them into the hamper near the door. Then grabbed their dirty clothes, adding them to the pile. He wiped down the bench and floor with a spare rag he’d found, quick and efficient, making sure they wouldn’t be yelled at like last time.

Every so often, he’d look up and shoot Steve a reassuring wink. Like he knew Steve was still a little lost inside his own head.

Once it all looked reasonably put together, Eddie padded back and sat beside him on the bench. His arm looped naturally over Steve’s shoulders- tugging him sideways until Steve’s cheek rested against his shoulder.

“All cleaned up.” Eddie pressed a soft kiss into Steve’s damp hair. “You back with me now, beautiful?”

Steve let himself lean fully into Eddie’s warmth, eyes too heavy to fight. “Mmm… Yeah.” He mumbled, tongue feeling too thick, voice soft but honest. “Head’s.. Not so fuzzy.”

Eddie rubbed small circles onto his shoulder with his thumb. “Good. Let me know if you float off again- I’ll drag you back down, promise.”

Steve huffed a barely- there laugh and tipped his head to nuzzle under Eddie’s jaw. Safe. Warm. His.

---

Eddie kept one steadying hand at the small of Steve’s back as he guided him out of the showers, down the hallways, and toward the kitchen. Steve still felt a little boneless, a little floaty- but Eddie simply steered him gently, like he had all the time in the world.

“Sit.” Eddie murmured once they reached the table, nudging Steve down into one of the chairs. He didn’t sit himself- instead he went over to the counter, grabbing two ceramic mugs and went on to make them some warm blood. He used the microwave instead of the stove, quick and easy.

He set one in front of Steve and broached a little so they were eye level. “Drink sweetheart.”

Steve lifted the mug with both hands, taking careful sips. The warmth settled through him slowly, grounding. His focus slowly came to. By the time he hit the halfway point, color had crept back into his cheeks in embarrassment.

He gave Eddie a lopsided smile. “You’re a real nursemaid.” He teased weakly.

Eddie leaned in close- lips curving into something smug and fond all at once- and licked a stray drop of blood from the corner of Steve’s mouth with one slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue.

Steve sputtered on his next sip, snorting laughter… And froze when a familiar throat cleared behind them.

Doc stood in the doorway, arms folded, eyebrow raised.

Wayne was right beside him- and unlike Doc’s long-suffering expression, Wayne looked downright amused.

“Well.” Wayne started, smirking. “‘Bout time. Didn’t realize becomin’ a vampire meant you’d be in heat twenty-four-seven.”

Eddie moved to take his heat and shot him the smuggest, most unrepentant grin Steve had ever seen.

Steve, meanwhile, promptly ducked behind his mug like he could hide inside it. “We were sparring.”

“That what they’re calling it these days?” Doc muttered, not quite under his breath, moving past them to refill the kettle.

Wayne barked a laugh and clapped a hand to Steve’s shoulder on his way to the fridge. “Long as you two quit breakin’ falls and stopping my heart.” His voice was fond. “I don’t care how you spend your afternoons.”

Steve made a pathetic wheeze of embarrassment behind the mug.

Eddie just winked, all too pleased with himself- and Steve couldn’t help it:

Even mortified, he felt light. Warm. Alive.

And for the first time in a long time.. Almost ready for whatever came next.

Doc eventually gave up pretending to busy himself and came to sit across from them, lowering himself into the chair with a quiet groan and a mug of tea in hand. Wayne followed behind, a beer in one hand, and a little container of pasta salad in the other, which he started eating straight out of the container with a fork as he sat beside Doc.

Eddie sipped his blood with barely-concealed smugness, clearly still riding high as Steve kept his head ducked behind his mug in embarrassment. But slowly, the silence turned comfortable, warm- Doc reading them with those sharp eyes, Wayne watching between bites.

Finally, Eddie cleared his throat. “So uh- We’ve made up our minds.”

Steve nodded once and took over without missing a beat. “We… Wanna see everyone. All at once. Rip the band-aid off, basically.”

Eddie tilted his mug in confirmation, picking the thought back up. “Makes more sense than going through a dozen different emotional reunions one by one. And…”

He glanced at Wayne.

“We want you there.” Steve finished quietly, like they’d rehearsed it without ever saying a word. “With us. If that’s still okay. To-To mediate. Keep it from.. Being overwhelming.”

Wayne didn’t even hesitate. He set his beer down, eyes shining a little too bright in the kitchen light. “Course I’ll be there.” He nodded. “Ain’t lettin’ you two do any of this alone.”

Doc gave a single approving nod- which, for him, might as well have been a standing ovation.

“Alright then,” Wayne continued, setting his fork down slowly. Letting his hands fold on the table. “I’ll handle logistics with Hopper. You two focus on what you wanna say and what you don’t want bein’ brought up… Might be better if we do it at Hopper’s cabin. Less chance of you boys bein’ spotted. Mine’s safe but with this many people, and his being further from any o’ those soldiers..”

They both nodded at that. “Might.. Might be easier for us too.” He admitted quietly. “Your house feels like we’re.. I don’t know. Inviting everyone into.. Our place, our home. Hopper’s cabin is.. Neutral ground.”

Eddie hummed his agreement, letting his ankle brush against Steve’s under the table. “Yeah. And if it all goes sideways we can just bolt into the woods. Wouldn’t even be able to catch us.” He tried to lighten the mood, but the tension in his shoulders gave him away.

Doc sipped his tea like he wasn’t staring straight through them both.

“Just..” Eddie took a breath, his fingers lightly drumming the side of his mug. “Just the core group, yeah? Even the ones I haven’t met.. The kids, Harrington’s lesbian soulmate, the Byers and officer sunglasses. That’s it. No.. Stragglers. No ‘oh hey uncle so-and-so was in town’.”

Wayne’s lips twitched. “Son, I don’t think you gotta worry about surprise relatives popping in from outta state.. Demogorgon’s maybe.. Not people.” He leaned forward, tone softening. “I’ll keep ‘em all in line. Swear it.”

That seemed to ease something inside Steve. His spine untensed by a fraction. “Okay. Then… Yeah. Let’s do it.”

“Soon.” Eddie added, as if afraid he might lose his nerve if too much time passed.

Doc set his mug down. “Take tomorrow to rest. Day after.. If you’d like. You boys don’t need to force yourselves.”

Wayne clapped a hand on the table, decision made. “Good. Then all that’s left is for me to call ‘em all up. And for you to figure out what you want to say.”

That made both of them go very still again.

Steve swallowed thickly. Eddie’s fingers found his thigh under the table, squeezing. There were whole years of nightmares between Hello and We made it out, and neither of them had any idea how to fit that into words.

But they nodded anyway.

Wayne gave them a proud, rough smile. “We’ll walk through it together.”

And just like that, there was no more question about hiding.

Only the quiet, trembling certainty of what came next.

---

The new room was massive- somewhere deep behind the regular training area, tucked away behind reinforced doors and a long stretch of hallway. High ceilings. Thicker walls. Floors layered in mats so dense they hardly bounced when hit, just absorbed. Foam cubes and angled obstacles were scattered like a playground designed by someone who didn’t trust gravity.

Doc watched from a small raised viewing booth behind shatterproof glass; tea in hand, cane leaning against his leg, mouth curled very slightly upward at the sight before him.

Inside the room, laughter and its own controlled chaos ensued.

Eddie vaulted over a slanted obstacle, curls flying wild at the edge of his bun as he lunged after Steve, who darted just out of reach. Steve cleared a foam cube, laughing breathlessly, skidding and hopping sideways over a second triangle as Eddie took a swipe at him.

-..That sounds ridiculous.- Steve shot across the bond, giddy and anxious all at once as he ducked Eddie’s next tackle.

‘We need to have a plan.’ Eddie insisted, even as he sprinted after him with a grin. ‘Otherwise we’re gonna walk in tomorrow and your first sentence is gonna be, So, hey guys, long time no vampire.’

He nearly tripped from laughing, which gave Eddie the opening he needed. He pounced, wrapping Steve in a tight grip from behind and spinning them down to the mats. They hit the ground with a muffled oomph, Steve flat on his back, Eddie straddling his hips.

“Cheater.” Steve mouthed, breathless but delighted.

Eddie grinned, fangs poking over his lip. ‘You love it.’

Their bond buzzed between them- thick with anticipation, flickers of fear, determination, adoration, all tangled and warm.

-Tomorrow we don’t joke.- He pressed, stilling under Eddie’s hands. -We go slow. We tell them they don’t owe us anything if it’s too much.-

‘They’re not gonna turn their backs.’ Eddie swallowed, gaze soft even as some of his loose curls clung damp to his brow. ‘But.. Yeah. We let them lead if they need to but.. But we don’t have to say anything we don’t want.. Wayne’ll make sure of it.’

He nodded once, pressing his palm to Eddie’s chest- right over his heart.

Across the glass, Doc raised his mug in a silent sort of salute. Eddie wins this one it said.

Then Eddie rocked backwards suddenly, pulling Steve up with him in one fluid yank. Steve laughed, shoved him, and suddenly they were sprinting again- leaping cubes and sliding, sweeping each other’s ankles, letting joy live loud in their movement even as quiet thoughts chased them through the bond:

-It’s going to be okay.-
‘As long as I’ve got you.’
-We’ll tell them together.-
‘One day at a time.’

Tomorrow would be hard.

But today- they could still laugh.

Eddie suddenly lunged again- fast this time, fangs bared in a mock-snarl- but Steve pivoted just as quickly, catching Eddie’s wrist mid-swing and using his own momentum to whip him around and down into the foam pads with a thud.

“Ah-ha!” He cheered triumphantly, dropping down to straddle Eddie’s waist. He leaned in and pressed a firm, smug kiss to Eddie’s mouth. “That’s seven-one, Munson.”

Eddie glared up at him, eyes ablaze but mouth twitching. ‘I swear to God.’ He hissed through the bond. ‘If you say it-’

“I’ll let you win next time.” He says sweetly.

Eddie growled, actually growled, and bucked so hard Steve yelped a laugh and toppled backwards. Eddie scrambled upright, picking Steve up by the shirt and tossing him bodily over one of the giant cubes.

He went willingly- too busy laughing to brace himself- landing flat on his back with his arms spread wide. “Unfair attack on a defenseless man.” He wheezed through laughter.

“Defenseless my ass.” Eddie snapped, still grinning as he climbed over the cube. “You’re just cocky.”

He swept Eddie’s legs out from under him mid-sentence with a smooth twist of his calf. Eddie hit the mats again- harder this time- and he slid on top of him, pinning his wrists to the floor. Eddie thrashed and snarled cartoonishly.

“Kiss for the loser.” Steve reminded him, breathless as he ducked in and slotted their mouths together.

Eddie let out a muffled noise, equal parts complaint and encouragement, before Steve pulled back just enough to smirk down at him. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll definitely let you win the next one.”

“I hate you.”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

Eddie’s only answer was to snarl into a kiss and suddenly roll, knocking Steve sideways in a blur of limbs, foam cubes, and helpless laughter.

They wrested briefly, neither trying very hard to truly win now- mostly giddy, collapsing against each other, locked between kisses and bouts of laughter that shook their shoulders.

‘We’re ridiculous.’ Eddie shot through the bond, breath ragged more from happiness than exertion.

-Best feeling in the world.- He fires back, cheeks aching from smiling.

Eddie hugged, affectionate and wild-eyed. ‘One more round. Winner gets your good sweatshirt for bed.. And a massage.’

“Oh, sweetheart.” He drawled aloud, pulling Eddie up by the front of his shirt with a dangerous grin. “Then I’m definitely not letting you win.”

Across the glass, Doc sipped his tea. They could hear him muttering something about “absolute menace children”- but they didn’t spare him a glance.

---

The tree creaked, only audible to their ears, under their weight. A thick-boughed oak tucked far back into the treeline, cloaking them in shadows.

From here, they could see Hopper’s cabin clearly. Smoke curling gently from the kitchen, a porch light slowing amber in the mid-afternoon blue- a home to so many of the people who had carved worlds into their hearts.

But Steve couldn’t breathe.

Eddie’s hand was laced tight in his. They hadn’t spoken aloud since they left Doc on the porch again. Just quiet pulses through the bond, layered with nerves so raw it was hard to tell whose was whose.

-We’ll wait till they’re all in.- Steve nudged gently in thought, thumb tracing Eddie’s knuckles even as his grip strayed iron-tight.

‘Yeah..’ Came Eddie’s response, small in his head. ‘Better that way. All at once… No running.’

Below, cabin windows glowed soft, the blinds shifting at someone quickly peaked out before moving away. Wayne was already inside with Hopper and Eleven; Steve caught the murmur of their voices floating up through the woods and had to bite down on the instinct to bolt- not away, but toward. Or maybe it was away. He wasn’t sure anymore.

Then, the crunch of gravel. A car coming up the long winding path.

He clutched Eddie’s hand so tight his knuckles went white, both of them peering down through the leaves.

Joyce Byers’s car. She parked crooked, like she was in a hurry.

Will stepped out first- taller now, lanky and soft-faced in a way he hadn’t been before. His heart lurched.

-He’s… Taller.- He pushed through the bond, stunned.

‘So are you.’ Eddie reminded, squeezing his hand comfortingly.

Dustin climbed out next, chattering nervously. Robin followed, glancing around with that sharpness she always carried when expecting danger.

And maybe they were. They’d smelt half a dozen Demogorgons on the way here.

But then-

Max.

Red hair cut shorter than they remember. Walking with a brace as she stepped out of the back seat. She paused for a second, looking just toward the trees, before Joyce ushered her forward slowly.

Steve forgot to pretend to breathe.

Eddie’s own panic echoed through him- sharp, overlapping his own- as they watched Max hesitate on the porch before finally going inside.

-I can’t.- He thought, overwhelmed. He hadn’t meant to send it across the bond.

‘We can.’ Eddie assured, even though he sounded just as terrified.

Another car rolled up, headlights sweeping across the trees.

Nancy this time, climbing out gracefully, purposeful. Mike right behind her, already pulling his jacket tighter, eyes fixed ahead. Lucas was next, helping Erica out the back- she looked unimpressed and wary, fierce in a way that hurt.

All four disappeared inside.

Last was Jonathan- driving up slow, looking haunted even before he stepped out. He hesitated on the porch, eyes roaming like he could feel them looking at him- Steve and Eddie stayed stone still in the arms of the tree. Until he finally pushed the door open and slipped inside.

And then…

Silence.

Except it wasn’t really. From the tree they could smell everything- nerves, heartbreak, confusion, hope, fear, the smell of lightly burnt cookies. A symphony of emotions crashing over them: too much humanity, too many memories. Pressure built in Steve’s gums, his fingers curling to prevent claws. Eddie pressed in behind him, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder, wrapping arms around him as much as he could without making a sound.

His claws were desperately itching to come out, his hands shaking.

Inside, they heard someone- Dustin or maybe Robin, they couldn’t focus- asking where they were. Wayne’s patient reply drifted out after a beat:

“They’ll be along soon, just give ‘em time.”

His breath trembled in his chest, throat tightening.

They stayed curled together in the tree, bodies wrapped tight, forehead resting against each others, letting everything wash over them until they could stomach it without falling apart.

‘One more minute.’ Eddie’s steady presence whispered.

He nodded, eyes wet.

-...Just one more.-

They remained still among the branches, forced themselves to breathe slow, to listen.

“...another Demogorgon sighting up by the quarry.” Will was saying softly to Dustin. He could hear the wariness in his voice even from here- the kind of tired that lived deep in your bones.

“Third one this week.” Dustin muttered back. “We’ll need to mark it and reroute the maps.. Again.”

Across the room Nancy’s voice carried in a gentle hush, almost soothing. “It’ll be okay.. They’ll come. We just… Have to wait.”

They knew she was talking to Jonathan, but he didn’t answer. Though his heartbeat- a slow, dragging thump- said everything.

Wayne was speaking to Joyce and Hopper in near-whispers by the kitchen.

“Y’ever known Harrington to be this skittish?” Hopper asked gruffly, a soft oof escaping him, they assumed Joyce or Wayne hit him. More than likely Joyce, as she shushed him, she knew better than any how good his hearing could be. Though her anxiety was currently pulsing like static in the air.

They could almost hear Wayne shaking his head. “Give it time. Jus’ gotta let ‘em do it on their own terms.”

Inside the living room, Erica made a sharp noise of disdain and jabbed Lucas in the ribs going by his groan. “Would you stop shaking, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

Mike snorted. “It’s Lucas, that’s normal.”

Eleven’s soft laugh followed- the sound so gentle Steve felt his stomach clench.

Then, Wayne’s voice cut through. Louder now, firm.

“Alright. Listen up, every one o’ you.”

All the conversations stopped. Heartbeats hiccupped or spiked. They all listened.

“When they come through that door,” Wayne started slowly. “You do not rush ‘em. You do not crowd ‘em. You give ‘em space. You let those boys lead. And God help me the first one of you who starts grillin’ ‘em for answers they don’t wanna give. ‘Cause I’ll be handling you.. Personally.”

There was a moment of silence- and then a rumble of quiet agreement.

“Yes, sir.” That was Dustin.

“We promise.” Will’s voice added.

Even Erica’s mutter was subdued: “Yeah, yeah, got it.”

In the tree, Steve finally exhaled. Eddie squeezed the back of his neck.

‘Ready?’ Eddie asked silently, the bond warm but shaking around the edges.

-Yeah just.. One step at a time.- He answered, though his throat felt too tight to even swallow.

They climbed down slowly, absolutely silent now- years of survival and conditioning making their movements near soundless. When their boots finally hit earth, they didn’t move for a while. Just stood at the base of the tree shoulder to shoulder, taking in lungfuls of cool air.

The scent of pine. Rain-damp moss. Animals in the distance, squirrels, birds, a deer. The overwhelming swirl of them- all those people inside the cabin. Familiar soap and shampoo, gun oil, cologne, peppermint, coffee grounds. Fear. Hope. Love so bright it nearly choked.

Steve closed his eyes against it all.

‘If we run…’ Eddie thought, only half joking.

-They’d never be able to catch us.- He replied, tugging Eddie’s fingers until they laced tight. -But.. I really want to see them again.-

Eddie nodded once- small, brave. ‘Yeah.. Me too.’

They straightened up. Brushed dirt from their clothes. And started toward the porch.

They moved up the porch steps without making a sound, the old wood moaning only audible to them. He stopped just beside the front door, his fingers tightening when they clutched Eddie’s.

-Just.. Just a second.- He lightly brushed across the bond.

Inside: muffled whispers. The clink of Hopper putting down a coffee mug. Someone shifting on the couch- Dustin, by the whiny hitch of breath. A heartbeat thudding wildly- Lucas. One steady and heavy- Hopper. A quick, fast little flutter- Max? Or maybe Will. Each one so familiar it hurt.

Eddie’s thumb stroked the back of his hand once. ‘We do it together. One foot in front of the other.’

Steve’s fingers were trembling.

He didn’t try to hide it- just laid his hand over the door knob like he was talking himself into jumping off a cliff. Maybe he was.

He felt Eddie squeeze his other hand- once, hard.

I’m here. It said

He nodded just once- so small it barely counted- and on a breath he didn’t need, he turned the knob.

Click.

The door slowly creaked inward.

Silence.

Thirteen heads turned at once. Every. Single. Person. Motionless, like they’d frozen mid-breath.

Max half-crouched by a chair. Hopper’s mouth opened then snapped shut like he’d been punched in the gut. Joyce’s hand flew to her mouth. Nancy went ghost white. Will made a strangled sound. Erica’s snack hit the floor.

He couldn’t breathe, everything inside him felt like it had stopped.

He stepped over the threshold shakily. Eddie moving in sync beside him. Then he felt another tighter squeeze to his hand.

He managed a whisper, shredded at the edges. “...Hi.”

Eddie lifted his free hand in a clumsy little wave. “Uh… Surprise?”

It was like time stopped.

No one moved, no one breathed, no one even blinked.

They could hear every heartbeat in the room- pounding, stuttering, racing- all layered and wild.

And then-

Robin’s voice cracked out of her like the tiniest park in a dark room. “...Hi.”

The spell shattered.

Suddenly it was a tidal wave- an explosion of noise.

Steve wasn’t sure whether they were about to be buried in hard.. Or fall apart completely..

“Holy shit-!” “Steve?!” “HOW are you-” “It really is you-!” “EDDIE?!”

Every voice climbed over the next, loud and desperate in disbelieving.

Steve jerked- barely, but Eddie felt it. Both of them flinched under the noise- instincts screaming.

Wayne took a step forward, arms folding across his chest.

The room went still. Instantly. Sound sucked away.

Wayne gave a single nod and stepped back to lean against the wall.

And then Joyce moved.

Not fast. Not loud. Not desperate.

But slow. Purposeful. Her shoulders trembled as she took each step forward, her hands slightly raised curled at her stomach- not in warning, not in fear- but in hope. Her eyes shimmered with tears already spilling down her cheeks, and they flicked between the two of them, scanning every inch of their bodies like a mother counting fingers and toes. Making sure they were whole. Like she could measure their safety by what the world had taken from them.

She was cataloguing.

The scars.
The weight lost.
The way they stood too close together like they might collapse without contact.
She was looking for the boy she remembered in the men standing in front of her.

Then- she stopped. Arms out, palms up, not forcing. Just offering.

An invitation.

Steve moved first. His heart stuttering as he stepped forward like gravity had shifted. Eddie followed, drawn not by choice but by need- like his feet no longer knew how to go anywhere else.

And Joyce wrapped them both in her arms.

Small, but unyielding.
Shaking, but strong.
She tucked her face into Steve’s shoulder as if trying to anchor herself in his warmth, his scent, his presence- proof that he was real. That they were real.

Eddie hesitated- flinched, just barely- like the contact was too much, too raw. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into her and into Steve, like if he let go he might vanish again. Like he wasn’t entirely sure he deserved this, but wasn’t willing to give it up either.

Her voice cracked as she whispered between them.

“Boys..”

A breath as she tried to compose herself.

“I’m so.. So glad you’re okay. So glad you came home.”

That was the word. Home.

Steve’s knees gave under the weight of it. He didn’t fall- not all the way- but he sagged into Joyce’s arms like the world had finally given him permission to stop holding himself up.

Eddie turned his face against Steve’s shoulder, his mouth trembling, eyes burning too hot to blink. His fingers dug into the back of Joyce’s shirt like if he held tight enough he could undo some of the hurt.

And Joyce rocked them gently. Back and force. Like they were still boys in scraped-up jeans needing lullabies and superhero band-aids. Like she could wrap four years of silence and loss in nothing but a mothers love and will it whole again.

She didn’t say everything’s okay now.

She didn’t lie.

She just held on.

And when she finally pulled back, it was slow- reluctant. Her hands found their cheeks. Both of them. One in each palm. She looked between them, eyes shining and voice this with grief and relief so tangled they sounded as one.

“You’re safe now,” she whispered, just for them. “You hear me? You’re home.”

Then she stepped back, breath catching, but she didn’t close the door.

None of them did.

They left it open- wide behind them.

Because every person in that room understood what that door meant now.

Freedom.
Choice.
Escape, if needed.
And the promise that this time- if they walked out- someone would come find them.

Next came Dustin.

He surged forward- like a kid who’d been holding everything in, everything steady, until this one moment made it impossible to pretend he wasn’t scared anymore. He didn’t run exactly, but his steps were too quick, too eager, almost stumbling. Still, he stopped himself just short of colliding into them- breath hitching, eyes glassy, lips twitching like he wasn’t sure if he was about to laugh or cry.

“I’m..” He started, then shook his head, voice cracking. “I’m really glad you guys are back.”

And then he surged forward again, arms tight around Steve’s middle like if he let go, Steve might disappear all over again. Like he hadn’t just seen them a few days ago. But Steve didn’t hesitate- not even for a second- just folded him in, arms around Dustin’s shoulders, chin dripping to his hair, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head. He closed his eyes as Dustin clung like he used to- like he always had when he was scared- but this time was different.

He was older now. Taller. But the fear was still the same.

Steve held him tighter for it.

“I’m okay, Dust.” He murmured, quiet and careful. “We’re okay.”

Dustin didn’t say anything back, but his shoulders shook.

And then- reluctantly- he pulled back, sniffling and scrubbing at his face, before turning to Eddie. He didn’t pause, not really, just stepped forward and wrapped himself with the same desperate energy.

Eddie froze, caught like a deer in headlights- but only for a breath. And then he folded slowly, arms wrapping around the kid like they’d never left. He let out a tiny, broken sound- more breath than voice- and buried his face in Dustin’s shoulder.

“Missed you too, Henderson.” He whispered, voice hoarse and thick. “You little shit.”

Dustin laughed- a hiccupped, shaky thing- and didn’t let go for a long time.

They held on until the silence softened again.

Until it was safe to move on.

Robin was next- barreling forward like a storm that had finally found its center. Her cheeks were blotchy, her sleeves damp from tears she clearly hadn’t even tried to hide, like she too hadn’t just seen them days ago. Like those days had been filled with the sharp-edge fear that it had all been too good to last. That they’d vanish again. That the next time she blinked, they’d be gone for good.

She didn’t stop until she was in front of Steve, already reaching.

“Hey, dingus.” She whispered, her voice catching on a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her arms wrapped around him tight- tight like she thought he might fall apart if she didn’t hold all the pieces in place herself. “Don’t. Ever. Do that again. Ever.”

He didn’t say anything at first- just let himself melt into her, jaw clenched, eyes burning. He buried his face in her shoulder, clinging back with just as much force.

“Sorry, Robs.” He finally whispered, voice barely audible. His grip on her was almost painful, but she didn’t complain. She wouldn’t have let go even if she’d wanted to.

When they pulled apart, she kept one hand on his arm, reminding herself he was here. But then- without hesitation, without flinching- she turned and wrapped her arms around Eddie.

This time, there was no awkwardness. No pause. No uncertainty.

Just Robin, throwing herself into the hug like it had been waiting four years to happen.

Eddie froze for half a second, caught off guard by the sudden press of emotion in her embrace- then let out a small, broken sound as he hugged her back. His chin trembled against her shoulder.

“Try not to die again, idiot.” She muttered, her voice thick and almost trembling.

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh, but it cracked in the middle, splintering under the weight of everything.

“No promises.” He whispered.

Robin didn’t let go right away.

None of them did.

Next was Eleven.

She moved slowly across the living room, like she was walking through water. Her arms stayed tight at his sides, fists clenched, lips pressed together like she might come apart if she spoke too soon. Her eyes were huge- wide and wet- and full of disbelief so sharp it looked like it might crumple her mid-step.

She stopped in front of Eddie first. Studied him like he was something unexpected- something strange, but precious. Like he didn’t make sense, and yet he did. Like she could feel the pieces of him rearrange the world around them.

“I do not know you.” She said carefully, each word slow and precise- the way she always spoke when she was trying to get everything right. Like she still had trouble with words. “But I am glad you are.. Okay.”

She reached out, hesitant but sure, and placed a single soft pat on his hand. Awkward. Sincere.

Eddie blinked quickly- eyes glinting- and swallowed hard. “Thanks, kid.” He whispered, voice just barely holding steady.

Then her gaze turned.

And found Steve.

Something in her face broke, almost imperceptibly- her brows drawing in, her lip trembling. Her hand listed but hovered, suspended in the air between them like she wasn’t sure if she had the right.

He reached out, listing the distance, and gently curled his fingers through hers.

Her hand was cold. Shaking.

“I…” Her voice cracked. “I could not find you.”

The words hitched, like they were ripped from her- each one sounding like it physically hurt to say. “I tried.. Every day. Until they made me stop. I looked. But I.. I could not. I failed. I… I am sorry.”

His chest split clean open. The grief in her voice, the guilt in her trembling frame- it was unbearable.

“Oh, no.” He said, catching her hand in both of his and holding it to his heart. “No. No, no sweetheart. Listen to me. You didn’t fail. This wasn’t your fault. Not ever your fault. You hear me? Not ever, I promise, okay?”

She sniffled, jaw clenching as she gave a small, jerky nod- chin dipping like it weighed more than it should.

“I am glad..” She whispered. “That you are home.”

His eyes were glassy now too. He pressed her hand firmer against his chest, like he needed her to feel the barley there proof- that he was here.

“Me too.” He whispered back, voice thin with emotion. “Me too, Eleven.”

They stayed like that for a moment- quiet, steady- and no one dated interrupt.

Not yet.

Not until they were ready.

Wayne stood off to one side, arms flooded but lips pressed tight– proud and watchful. Ready to step in if anyone dared press too much. If either of his boys seemed overwhelmed.

Eleven’s hand slipped away gently, retreating back to her side, but her eyes lingered- soft and wide- as she stepped back beside Hopper. Still, no one else moved. The room remained suspended in a fragile hush, as though even joy might scare them away again.

Then Nancy stepped forward.

She moved slowly- cautiously- like she wasn’t quite sure if this was real, or if touching them might shatter the illusion. She looked older, sharper, and softer all at once. Her hair was different. Her stance more guarded. But it was still Nancy- and seeing her like this made Steve’s chest ache all over again. Ache for the years lost, for the girl who once wielded truth like a weapon and carried grief like armor.

She stopped in front of Eddie first.

“I…” Her voice cracked the second it left her mouth. She swallowed, blinking quickly, then tried again, quieter. “I’m sorry. For what happened to you. For.. All of it.”

Eddie blinked, clearly caught off guard. His mouth opened, but nothing came out for a second- just the glimmer of unshed emotion in his eyes. Then, wordlessly, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

Nancy stiffened at first, startled by the contact. Then her hands lifted slowly- clutching at the front of his shirt like she wasn’t ready to let go just yet- and she pressed her eyes shut.

Eddie pulled back after a moment, but kept a steadying hand on her arm. “Way I hear it..” His voice was soft. “You’re the reason I’m not officially a dead man. So… Thank you, Wheeler.” He tried to make it light- gave her a half-smile that almost worked- but the weight in his eyes told a different story.

Nancy’s lips trembled into a fragile, watery smile. “Someone had to make sure the ‘truth’ didn’t bury you.”

Then her eyes turned toward Steve.

The shift in her was almost imperceptible, but it rippled. Her hands slid slowly away from Eddie as she took a small step toward him- just a breath of space between them. She looked at him like she was seeing a ghost- one she’d imagined, grieved, and dream of- all at once. Her lips parted, but no words came. Not yet.

Instead, she stepped in and wrapped her arms around him. Tight.

Longer than with Eddie. Like she couldn’t help herself. Like she’d spent four years building up walls only to have them shatter the moment she saw him walk through that door.

Steve didn’t hesitate. His arms locked around her in return, one hand curling protectively over the back of her head. His own eyes slipped shut as he held her like he didn’t want to let go.

“I’m glad you’re home.” She whispered finally, audible only for him and Eddie.

She gave her a gentle squeeze, careful not to be too tight,, his voice catching on his reply. “Me too.”

When they pulled apart, neither of them spoke again. Nancy dried her eyes, flicking the tears away as if they offended her, and went back to her perch against the couch.

Jonathan came next- quiet, careful, like the act of moving might stir too much dust from the past. His shoulders were hunched the way they always got when he was feeling too much and didn’t know where to put it. His eyes were red, but dry- like the tears had come earlier, in slice, behind closed doors.

He hovered a moment, just at the edge of them, like he wasn’t sure he belonged in this kind of reunion- like maybe time had shifted them all too far apart.

Steve noticed.

Without hesitation, he opened his arms.

Jonathan stepped in like the invitation was all he’d needed. He wrapped his arms around Steve in a quiet, grounding hug- no shaking, no words, just solid warmth and a long breath that left him trembling. It was the kind of exhale that only came after holding it for years.

“Not the same without you.” He murmured into Steve’s shoulder, his voice rough and too soft to echo.

Steve patted his back firmly, a hand curling briefly into the fabric of his shirt. His throat was too tight for much, but he managed. “Missed your.. You, Byers.”

Jonathan let out a sound- somewhere between a breath and a broken laugh- before pulling back. His eyes flicked to Eddie next, lingering just a moment longer than expected.

They hadn’t been close- not really. Just two guys who shared school hallways and maybe a few knowing glances when the world felt too heavy to pretend it wasn’t. But Jonathan had heard enough over the years. From Dustin. From Mike. From Max. Enough to know Eddie mattered.

More than that, he mattered to Steve.

And that was enough.

He stepped forward and clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder- not rough, not awkward, just a solid, wordless welcome. His eyes softened a little. “Glad you made it back.” He said quietly.

Eddie blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his voice, and nodded. “Yeah.. Me too.”

And that was it. Nothing showy. Nothing loud. But in the way Jonathan stepped back and lingered close, it was clear- he’d been waiting for this too.

Will approached after him, slow and hesitant, like the floorboards might splinter beneath him if he stepped too fast. His hands twisted nervously at the hand of his shirt, knuckles white, and his wide eyes shimmered like a held-back tide- the kind that had been building for years.

Eddie caught the nerves instantly and offered him a soft, crooked grin- lopsided and full of warmth, like he already knew the weight Will was carrying.

“Heard a lot about you,” Eddie said gently, voice breaking the silence like a note of light through fog. “Oh great Will the Wise.”

Will startled out a breath, a small laugh catching at the edges of it. His cheeks flushed a deep red and something in his shoulders eased just a little. “I’ve.. Heard a lot about you too.” He admitted shyly, glancing between them both before his gaze landed on Steve. His face changed when it did- softened, filled with something deep and wordless.

“I’m really glad you’re back. And I… I still have your tape.”

He blinked like he hadn’t expected that- hadn’t even remembered. Then his eyes softened and he let out a short, watery laugh that sounded like something cracking open inside his ribs.

“You better.” He said, voice thick with emotion. “It’s my favorite.” He stepped forward without waiting and wrapped Will up in a hug- strong, warm, protective in the way Steve always used to be, and still would be.

Will didn’t hesitate. He clung to Steve with both arms, burying his face in his chest like he’d never let go again. “I missed you.” He whispered, the words small but solid- like they’d been waiting to be said for years.

He pressed his cheek into Will’s hair and closed his eyes, holding him a little tighter. “Missed you more, bud.”

And I’m glad you’re okay too.” He said earnestly, turning to Eddie. “They never stopped talking about you. None of them did.”

Eddie swallowed hard and gave him a little nod, his voice quieter this time. “Guess I’ve got a lot to live up to.”

Will smiled, small but genuine. “I think you already did.”

And with that, he stepped back, wiping at his eyes, but still watching them like he couldn’t believe they were real.

Then came Mike and Lucas. They lingered just a step behind Will, not hesitating, but bracing themselves- like they’d waited for this for so long they weren’t sure how to move now that it was real.

Lucas moved first, jaw tight, eyes wet. He didn’t say anything at first, just surged forward and threw his arms around Steve in a hug that knocked the air out of both of them. Steve let out a startled sound, half-laugh, half-grunt. “Jeez, Sinclair- trying to take me out already?”

Lucas just held on tighter. “It’s really you.” He said thickly, voice muffled against Steve’s shoulder. “It’s really you.”

“Last time I checked.” Steve replied, but the words were soft and fond, his hand squeezing the back of Lucas’s shoulder like he’d missed the kid more than he could say.

Lucas finally pulled back, blinking hard, and turned to Eddie without hesitation. He hugged him quick and fierce, a brief slap on the back like they’d known each other a lot longer than they actually had.

“I shouldn’t have missed the campaign.” Lucas said quietly, and then stepped aside before Eddie could reply.

Mike stood there, frozen in place.

His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his mouth tight, eyes shining too bright. He looked so much like that awkward, sharp-tongued kid who used to sit cross-legged on the basement floor with a campaign book in one hand and a pencil clenched in the other, trying so hard to pretend the world didn’t scare him. Just Nancy’s kid brother.

He was trying that now too- and failing.

His gaze locked onto Steve like he couldn’t believe he was real- like blinking might break the spell.

Steve didn’t say anything. He just opened one arm slowly, not pushing. Like he needed to comfort Mike more than he needed the comfort for himself.

But that was all it took.

Mike stumbled forward like something broke loose in him, and then he was clinging to Steve like his legs might give out. “Shut up, man.” Mike mumbled into his shirt, voice cracking around the edges. “I’m just- I’m glad you’re okay.”

Steve’s throat worked hard before he could speak. He curled his arm around Mike’s back and pressed the other to his shoulder, hugging him close. “Thanks, kid.” His voice was rough. And then, like muscle memory, he reached up and ruffled Mike’s hair.

Mike let out a shaky breath, one that sounded suspiciously like a choked-off sob, and just nodded. It was that- that little gesture, so stupid and familiar- that undid him.

When Mike finally stepped back, swiping at his eyes quickly like no one had seen, he turned to Eddie with a flush high on his cheeks. He held out a hand- stiff, a little unsure.

Eddie took one looked at it, huffed out a laugh that cracked somewhere in the middle, and ignored it entirely as he pulled Mike into a tight hug.

Mike froze- and then, slowly, hugged him back. “Glad you’re alive, man.” He said, quieter this time. Honest.

Eddie’s smile softened into something gentler than Mike had ever seen on him. “Me too, little sheepie. Me too.”

And when they stepped back, it was like something had settled. Not everything- not by a long shot- but it was something.

Erica marched forward next, her chin lifted high, expression pinched and imperious- like she was inspecting something under a microscope and hadn’t yet decided if it was worth her time.

She didn’t reach out. Didn’t smile. Just stopped in front of them, arms stiff as her sides, and stared- hard. First at Eddie. Then at Steve.

Her gaze was sharp, calculating, a little narrowed like she was taking inventory of every scratch, every bruise, every second of silence the last four years had cost them.

And they let her. Neither spoke- not Steve, who was already biting down on a grin, and not Eddie, who looked halfway between nervous and fascinated.

Wayne stood up straighter. He knew how she could be, but was ready to step in if needed.

Then, finally, Erica gave a single, sharp now. Sniffled once like she was announcing a verdict.

“You’re both idiots.”

Steve huffed- a sound that broke apart like it had been held back for hours. Eddie blinked in surprise, mouth half open, then shut again with a quiet click. Before he could summon up one of his usual snark come backs, Erica turned on her heels.

She stomped back to the couch and flopped beside Lucas like she was declaring the conversation over- arms crossed, back straight, pointedly looking anywhere but at them.

But her eyes stayed fixed- not on them directly, but hovering near. Like she was watching, still cataloging. Still making sure they didn’t vanish again.

And her eyes.. Her eyes were suspiciously glassy. She caught Will staring and snapped, “What?” Will held up his hands innocently, but his smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Erica glared harder, as if daring anyone to mention the tears she wasn’t crying. And still didn’t look away.

Max came next.

She walked slow- cane tapping and dragging slightly against the floor, every step measured and deliberate. One of her eyes was cloudy now, its light dulled and distant, and her frame looked thinner than before- not just in body, but in something deeper, like she’d been carved out by time and pain and was still learning how to hold herself together.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body tightening like he’d been struck. His eyes stung.

Eddie’s voice cracked as it slipped from him, barely more than a whisper. “Oh… Little red.”

Max gave them both a crooked shrug. Her voice, when it came, was raspy- gravel dragged over memory- but strong in its own way. “El had to go digging through the mess in my head to get me back. Took a while.” She tapped her temple gently with one hand. “Legs still go weird sometimes. And one of my eyes does this blur thing on bad days.”

She paused, swallowed hard. The bravado cracked just a little, and for a breath she was just a little girl again, breaking and trying not to show it. “But I’m okay.” She finished, her chin wobbling. “And so are you.”

That was all it took.

Steve didn’t even think- just opened his arms, and Max stepped into him like she’d been waiting for that moment since the world first fell apart. She gripped him fiercely, cane still in her hand, fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt like she’d never let go.

Eddie wrapped around them both a second later, one hand shaking against Max’s back, the other buried in Steve’s shirt. He pressed his face into her hair and breathed- slow, ragged, like if he just held on tight enough this time, none of it would slip away again.

They stood like that for a long, quiet moment- just the three of them, pieced together in the center of the storm.

When Max finally pulled back, she sniffled- loud and unapologetic- when swiped at her cheeks like she was batting away flies. “If any of you say a damn word about this,” she warned, leveling a glare around the room that could’ve cut glass. “I swear-”

It didn’t stop the watery chuckles that followed. Lucas ducked his head to hide his grin, Will let out a laugh that sounded a little too close to a sob, and even Mike made a strangled noise like he was trying not to choke on his own emotions.

Max rolled her eyes, cane thumping as she turned away, but her shoulders shook like maybe she was laughing too. And as she hobbled back to her seat, she kept glancing over her shoulder- just to make sure they were still there.

Which left Hopper.

He stepped toward them slowly- big shoulders drawn tight, jaw clenching like he was fighting a war inside himself just to keep steady. His face was already beginning to crumble around the edges, lips trembling, brow knit like he couldn’t decide whether to fall apart or keep it together for just one more second.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t have to.

He just looked- hard and long, like he was memorizing them all over again. Like he was checking every scar and bruise, every change in posture or shadow behind their eyes. Like he was making sure they were whole enough to stand.

Tears shimmered- caught in the line of his lashes- but they didn’t fall. Hopper held them back like a soldier guarding a gate, but it was clear it cost him everything.

Steve’s eyes stung viciously, his throat bobbing around a swallow that wouldn’t quite go down. Beside him, Eddie looked seconds from breaking open completely.

“Hi…” Eddie managed, the words paper-thin. He tried for a smile, crooked and trembling. “Officer Sunglasses.”

That did it.

Hopper made a sound- some strangled thing between a laugh and a sob- and scrubbed hard at his face with the back of his hand like he could erase it. “Christ, Munson.” He muttered, voice thick, but his mouth twitched into something like a smile. He stepped forward- one hand landing on Eddie’s shoulder with a weight that was more than just physical, fingers digging in tight like he didn’t trust himself to let go.

“If you think you can milk this so I never arrest you again…” Hopper began, shaking his head with a low huff of disbelief.

Eddie bit down on a grin, eyes glassy. “Can’t prove nothin’.”

“..Then you’d be right.” Hopper continued with a watery chuckle.

The sound cracked something open in both of them, and Steve let out a laugh that sounded more like a gasp, like he’d forgotten how. Eddie followed, his laugh thinner, but still there- soft and broken and real.

And then Hopper turned to Steve.

His expression shifted- something deeper setting in behind his eyes, something ancient and paternal and far too tender for a man like him. His hand came up to the back of Steve’s neck- rough and grounding- and when he spoke, his voice was low and scraped raw.

“I’m glad you’re alright, son.”

That was all it took.

Steve’s face crumpled as the dam broke, and Hopper pulled him in- no hesitation, no room for protest. He wrapped an arm around him and the other around Eddie, yanking them in tight like he could shield them from everything, past and future.

Eddie didn’t resist.

He pressed in too, one first curling in the back of Hopper’s shirt, clinging like maybe he could anchor himself to it, like maybe the ground wouldn’t fall away again if he just held on hard enough.

And for a long time, that’s where they stayed- caught in Hopper’s arms, held safe and solid and still.

No one said a word.

There was no need.

They were home.

Notes:

I'm not going to lie.. I didn't reread this after adding all my html texts to it, so if there's misspellings or weird text.. Sorry.

Chapter 33: This Is What Home Is

Summary:

“You did good.” Wayne murmured, voice rough but steady. “You did great today. Both of you.”

Notes:

Kind of a slow chapter. I just wanted to calm things down from being too overly emotional. Give you guys a little break. :)

The hug broke, limb by limb, like none of them wanted to be the first to let go.

Hopper gave both boys one last squeeze before stepping back, scrubbing a hand over his face like maybe that could erase the emotion clinging to him. Joyce touched Steve’s arm as she passed, then Eddie’s, her smile wobbly but warm. Wayne’s quiet hand landed on Eddie’s shoulder just for a second- steady, grounding.

It took a little time for the air to settle. Everyone shifting back into the room’s rhythm, but it was thinner now, stretched over too many emotions.

Steve caught Eddie’s eyes. Eddie didn’t even have to say it- just one slight tilt of his head toward the door. He nodded.

“Hey.” He broke the calm silence, voice just loud enough to carry. “We’re just gonna… We need a minute. But-But we’ll be back. Just need to.. Step out.”

Joyce started to nod, but Wayne cut in gently. “Go on, boys. Take your time.”

They stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind them with a soft click. The air outside was warm but easier to breathe- lighter than the charged, emotional weight inside. It carried the scent of damp wood, pine, and the faint summer dust that clung to the steps.

They leaned against the railing together, shoulders brushing. Neither spoke aloud, they didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace, or break the fragile bubble of space they’d carved out. The bond felt soft, open, but heavy with everything they’d just been through.

-You okay?- His words came warm and careful, his hand sliding over Eddie’s where it rested on the rail.

‘Yeah.’ Eddie’s reply was soft, slow, like he was still untangling it from the knot in his chest. ‘Overwhelmed… But in a good way. Just.. It’s a lot.’

-Yeah.. It is.- His tone matched, but he was carrying a steadiness to it that he wasn’t sure he felt. -I’m glad they’re all here though.-

‘Me too.’ Eddie’s gaze dropped to their hands for a second, thumb rushing along Steve’s knuckles before he looked back up with the faintest grin. ‘So… What’s up with you and Wheeler?’

He blinked, confused. -What?-

‘Don’t play dumb, Harrington.’ Eddie’s thoughts were teasing, but edged with curiosity. ‘I heard your heart spike the second she walked up to us.’

Steve rolled his eyes, but before Eddie could push it further, he stepped forward and caught a fistful of Eddie’s shirt, and pulled him in. The kiss wasn’t heated- not this time- just firm and sure, sealing something unspoken between them.

When he pulled back, slowly licking over his lips, his voice echoed through the bond, firm. -I was just nervous and happy to see her again. That’s all. I don’t have feelings for her anymore, Eds. Just you. So there’s no reason to get jealous.-

Eddie’s lips curved into a small, warm smile. ‘I wasn’t jealous… Okay. Maybe a little. But..’ His eyes softened, sincerity creeping in. ‘I’m just.. I’m glad we did this all at once. Don’t think I could’a handled going through it in pieces. One big hit’s enough.’

He huffed a quiet, soft laugh, thumb brushing along the collar of Eddie’s shirt where he still held it. -Yeah. One big emotional hit and done… I kind of feel drained now though.-

A soft pulse of agreement passed through the bond, but before Eddie could respond they both froze, Eleven’s voice quiet, hesitant. “Were we too much?”

Wayne’s answer came calm and certain. “No, kid. They just need a minute. This is a lot for ‘em.”

Steve loosened his grip on Eddie’s shirt, like he was coming back to himself. He gave the fabric a small tug, absently smoothing out the wrinkles he’d just made. Eddie didn’t tease him for it- didn’t comment or even smirk- just caught Steve’s hand in his, and lifted it to his lips, pressing a warm, wordless kiss. Everything Eddie couldn’t say.

‘Yeah.’ Eddie finally continued, his thoughts slower and steady now. Calmer. ‘I’m drained too. But we can do this. Then, we get to go home. Hole up as long as we want. No more pressure.’

Steve nodded, letting the thought settle before speaking again. His words came quieter now, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say them. -I… I want to go home not.. Not Wayne’s or the bunker but.. I want to see my house again.- He hesitated, thumb brushing over Eddie’s knuckles. -But I’m not sure I’m ready. What if.. What if I remember.. Being taken?-

Eddie’s expression softened, in a way that made Steve’s chest ache, eyes searching his face like he was weighing every word. ‘Then we go slow. Whatever you want, sweetheart. I’ll follow you wherever you go- today, tomorrow, ten years from now. No one’s rushing you.’

His chest tightened with something warm and sharp all at once. The truth of Eddie’s promise settled deep in his bones. He didn’t answer right away, just let his eyes hold Eddie’s until the tension in his shoulders began to ease.

Finally, he let out a long breath. Eddie squeezed his hand once- a quiet signal that they didn’t have to move until Steve was ready. He nodded toward the door. They turned together, hands still linked, and stepped back towards it.

Inside, the air was warm with the smell of coffee and burnt cookies, a homey scent that clung to every inch of the small space. As soon as the door swung open, a dozen pairs of eyes shifted their way. But he didn’t let go of Eddie’s hand.

They stayed near the doorway, leaving it cracked behind them- like they needed the option of fresh air, of space, of the chance to run if the air got too thick.

Wayne’s voice came steady from where he now sat at the table, his tone firm but not sharp. “Let ‘em be. They’ll talk when th’re ready.”

The tension in the room eased by a hair, but Eddie could still feel it- questions balanced on the tips of tongues. His shoulders tightened anyway, protective instincts kicking in, shifting himself just slightly in front of Steve. Like a barrier no one had asked for, but he’d damn well provide, especially with the nerves, anxiety, and fear still rolling though the bond.

Steve’s gaze kept roaming- the bedrooms, kitchen, windows- before snagging on a calendar pinned to the far wall. His eyes flicked to it again and again, like he was checking to make sure the numbers hadn’t changed since the last time he looked.

Eddie felt another spoke of unease and gave his hand a slow, steady squeeze. Steve didn’t look at him, but his shoulders eased down a notch.

It was Robin who came over first, moving slowly, her hands tucked into her pockets like she was trying not to spook a stray cat. Steve stopped a few feet away, leaning just enough to see both of their faces without crowding into their space.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft. “You don’t have to say anything. I just.. Wanted to look at you. Both of you.”

He gave her a small nod, voice level but quiet. “Well.. Here we are.”

‘She looks worried.’ Eddie’s voice brushed through his mind, warm and low, a gentle nudge meant to pull Steve’s focus from the calendar.

-She’s fine. Just nervous… We’re fine too.- The thought was automatic, a reflective reassurance- more to soothe Eddie than himself.

Robin’s mouth pulled into a small, uncertain smile. “You look.. Better than before. Not-” She winced. “-I mean, you didn’t look bad or anything, just-”

“It’s okay,” Steve cut in gently, softer than he had been a moment ago. “We get it.”

Eddie’s thumb rubbed over Steve’s knuckles. ‘You mean I get it, Harrington. You’re still trying not to fidget yourself into oblivion.’

-Shut up.- But there was no heat in it- just a faint, grateful thread of humor.

Robin’s gaze shifted to Eddie. “And you? Are you okay?”

Eddie gave a half-shrug. “Depends on your definition. But I’m here. That’s a start.”

‘She’s gonna cry.’ Eddie noted, catching the small tremors in Robin’s breathing, something raw and fragile in it.

-Yeah.. Don’t point it out. You’ll make her bolt.-

Robin lingered a moment longer, eyes shining faintly, before she stepped back- giving them space like she’d promised. Dustin was next, edging over from the kitchen, staying back just far enough.

He looked somewhere between stubborn and relieved. Lifting a hand in a half-wave, and Steve’s answering nod was tight but genuine.

“You uh.. You look.. Different. From.. From the other day.” Dustin said, voice a mix of curiosity and caution, like he’d been bracing for the opposite.

Eddie smirked faintly. “Thanks, Henderson. Been working on my hair care out in the woods.” Dustin’s eyes went wide for a moment before he caught the joke, relief flickering through him. He opened his mouth to respond but Steve cut him off.

His mouth curved into the faintest smile. “You sounded disappointed just then.”

“Nah.” Dustin muttered, but his voice cracked just enough to give him away. He glanced at Eddie. “You’re not allowed to die again. And.. And you can’t disappear either. Not either of you. Not without warning. Or at all. Actually, at all is better.”

Eddie tilted his head. “Guess we’re grounded then.”

-He’s not joking.- Steve’s thoughts drifted dryly between them.

‘Didn’t think he was.’ Eddie replied.

-Looks like he’s trying hard not to ask a thousand different questions… Looks like it hurts.-

‘He won’t. Wayne’s still watching. We’ve got.. We’ve got time. But.. If you want to go-?’

-I.. I don’t know.-

Wayne caught Eddie’s eye from across the room, giving a small nod toward the door. A promise. That if they needed to leave he’d deal with the fallout. Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand again before subtly shaking his head towards Wayne, not yet.

Their quiet pause stretched only a second before Max wandered over, her approach less cautious and more direct. She stopped a few steps away, next to Dustin, crossing her arms and tilting her head at them like she was measuring them.

“You holding up?” She asked, tone clipped but not unkind.

Steve hesitated, his mouth starting to form a vague answer- but Eddie cut in, his voice steady. “We’re here. That’s the important part, right?”

Max gave a slow nod, as if that was the only answer she’d accept anyway. “Guess so.” She didn’t push further, just shifted her weight and stayed close enough to count as company without making the space feel more crowded than it was becoming.

From the table, Wayne’s low, even voice drifted over. “Let ‘em breathe. They’ll share when they’re ready.”

Eddie caught Steve’s eye at that, a flicker of gratitude pulsing between them. ‘We can do this.’ Eddie’s thoughts murmured, and Steve- despite the nervous flick of his gaze back to the calendar- just nodded once.

Robin stayed a few feet back, Max standing sentinel at her side now. But no one else moved closer, though Eddie could feel the collective weight of their stares, questions and worry pressing in from across the room. Steve’s hand flexed faintly in his, knuckles whitening for a beat before easing again.

The smell of burnt chocolate slung stubbornly to the air, threading between the sharper scents of coffee and anxiety. Something in it pulled at Steve’s expression- softened it for a heartbeat, then left him looking almost dazed, like the present was overlapping with something half-buried and fragile.

Eddie shifted closer, shoulders brushing. ‘Still with me?’

His answer came after a quiet breath. -Yeah. Just… Taking it in.-

Eventually, the conversations in the cabin rose and fell in gentle waves, the edges softened by Wayne’s quiet presence. No one pushed too hard- at least not enough for Wayne to have to step in. No one tried to corner them. The door behind them stayed propped open just a few inches, letting in the faint scent of pine and the occasional whisper of wind. It was comfortable enough that Steve found himself unclenching his jaw.

Max had claimed the arm of the couch nearest them, leaning forward on her knees as she talked about getting her balance back after… Everything. “Had to relearn how to skateboard.” She said, rolling her eyes like it was just another inconvenience. “Took me weeks before I could even push off more than an inch again without eating it.”

“That’s ‘cause you wouldn’t wear the knee pads.” Mike muttered from his chair, picking at a loose thread in his sleeve. “You’d think almost dying would make you more careful, but no-”

“Shut up, Wheeler.”

Mike only huffed and slouched further back. “At least you got better at it.” He turned to look at the both of them. “We had to redo freshman year. The Whole thing! Same teachers, same homework. It was torture. They made me do the frog dissection again.”

Across from them, Will spoke up quietly, fingers tracing the seam of his jeans. “Me and El.. We’ve been working with Owens mostly.. Trying to strengthen Eleven’s power and figure out my connection to the Upside Down. It’s-” He hesitated, eyes dropping to his hands. “It’s still there. He is still there.. I can feel it sometimes. But we’re learning how to.. Control it, I guess.” His voice dipped almost to a whisper. “Make it something useful instead of something bad. For when.. For when he comes back.”

Steve listened in silence, letting the threads of their stories wind together, anchoring him in a strange but comforting way. These were pieces of the years they’d missed- mundane and impossible all mixed together- and hearing them, even the bad parts, was like finding a missing piece of their puzzle had been in his hand the whole time. Eddie’s thumb brushed against the side of his hand once, twice, grounding him every time his mind threatened to drift too far.

Nancy and Jonathan lingered at the edges of the conversation, quietly absorbing more than speaking, until Nancy slowly stood up. “We’re gonna head into town.” She said, brushing her hair off her face. “Pick up pizzas for dinner. We should be back in about an hour.”

His eyes followed them toward the door, some of that reflexive wariness coming back to the surface.

‘Relax, sweetheart. She’s coming back with food, not an interrogation kit.’

-Ha ha, very funny.-

Nancy’s eyes flicked to his, just for a second, and gave a small smile before stepping outside. Jonathan gave a quiet wave to the both of them before he followed her. The soft thunk of car doors closing left the rest of them in a gentle hum of idle chatter.

---

They’d drifted just a few feet further into the cabin, just far enough inside that they weren’t standing in the doorway anymore. But they kept their backs angled toward it, the open sliver still within easy reach.

The others had spread out into smaller knots of conversations- quiet, almost deliberately so, like they were all silently agreeing not to bring up anything that smelled like the lab or the years gone. Every so often, a voice would lift over the hum on a joke or a groan, but the edges stayed soft.

Lucas had just pulled them into a story about the science fair last year, his hands moving in big, sharp gestures that nearly clipped the coffee table. “So Mike says we should just do a volcano.” Lucas threw Mike a pointed glare. “Classic, right? But he wanted to improve it.”

Groans rolled through the room like a wave, it made Steve realize he was almost smiling again.

“It was a good idea!” Mike shot back from his seat, flinging an arm over the back of his chair.

“No, it was a terrible idea.” Dustin deadpans, not even looking up from the map he was marking with Will. “At least the one I did failed spectacularly. Yours just-” He waved vaguely toward the ceiling, grimacing. “Just caught on fire.”

“It was lava.” Mike argued.

“It was baking soda and vinegar, dude.” Dustin snorted. “And it still caught on fire. That’s impressive in, like.. A deeply concerning way.”

The laughter that followed wasn’t loud, but it was warm, a little shared release that eased some of the tension from the air.

He let it wash over him, catching the little threads of conversation happening in the corners- Max quietly debating with Erica about whether El’s opinion on pineapple actually belonged on pizza, Will leaning in close to Eleven and talking about a song he wanted her to hear, Robin laughing softly at something Lucas added to his story. None of it was sharp. None of it was pointed toward him or Eddie.

But Eddie’s gaze kept flickering toward the door every few seconds- subtle, but constant. He noticed it, the way Eddie’s shoulders eased a fraction whenever the gasp of darkness outside remained undisturbed.

-You’re doing that thing again.-

‘Hmm? What thing?’

-Half paying attention, half planning an escape.-

‘Old habits.’

-Yeah.. I know. I’m just saying. You’re here. We’re here. And nobody’s making us move unless we want to.-

Eddie didn’t answer, but the faint squeeze of his fingers around Steve’s was answer enough.

---

It was nearly an hour later when Steve caught it- that small, instinctive twitch in Eddie’s head, the barest turn toward the open door.

‘They’re back.’

-Already?-

‘Couple minutes out. Gravel drive’s got that sound.’ Eddie’s nostrils flared in a way so faint no one else in the room would’ve noticed. ‘And… Yeah. Definitely pizza. God, I missed that smell.’

He gave a faint nod, taking in a subtle breath himself. He bit back a smile, pressing his lips together instead. -We eat just fine.. I think you just missed junk food instead of Doc’s cooking, or the horrible sludge from the lab.-

‘Not denying it.’

Nancy’s car wasn’t visible through the front window yet, but both of them could hear the low hum of the engine under the steady murmur of conversation. Steve felt his focus narrow, tuning out the room and tracking the sound- how it dipped when the tires hit the softer ground, how it cut entirely when the ignition clicked off.

Then came the soft crunch of footsteps across fallen leaves. No one else even glanced toward the door until the knock landed, sharp enough to make them both flinch.

The smell rolled in first- hot grease, warm bread, tangy tomato- and something in his chest ached at how absurdly normal it all felt. Someone laughed in greeting, voices lifted with thanks, and boxes were shuffled onto the narrow kitchen counter. The room shifted into something even warmer as hands reached for paper plates and soda cans.

Robin, halfway to the counter, caught Steve’s gaze for the briefest second. Her brow flicked- something between you good? And I see you.- before she turned away to grab plates.

He and Eddie each took a plate, retreating automatically to the small space they’d claimed back by the door. They are with quiet efficiency, plates and drinks carefully balanced, backs angled so they could see both the entrance and the room without drawing attention to it.

Will passed them on his way to the couch, muttering a quiet “Hey,” with a small smile before quickly pivoting to ask Mike if there was enough root beer left. Mike answered too loud, like he was still mid-argument about something.

The rest of the cabin filled with the scrape of chairs, the low mingled hum of laughter and conversation. Someone called out to save a slice of pepperoni, a can cracked open with a sharp fizz, and for a moment he let himself sink into the rhythm of it. The salt, the cheese, the heat- each bite pulling him a little further from the tension that had wound itself into his shoulders these last few days.

Dustin tossed a grin their way as he passed, then redirected toward Lucas without missing a beat, as if deliberately not pulling them into whatever was about to happen.

Lucas, picking up their science fair story again, launched into the details- hands moving in wide arcs with his plate. “And then Dustin’s project just.. Collapsed-”

“I told you it was meant to do that!” Dustin cut in, jabbing a finger in Lucas’s direction.

“Yeah, sure, if your point was to bore the judges into submission.” Lucas teased.

“At least mine didn’t collapse!” Mike cheered.

Dustin puffed up, indignant. “No, it didn’t collapse- it caught on fire.” He muttered the last part quickly, ducking his head. “Which was admittedly still exciting.”

He let himself drift in that warmth, chewing slowly, letting the sound of their friends’ voices smooth out some of the static in his head.

Eddie, though, stayed quiet. His gaze still flickering between the door and the cluster of friends spread across the couches and mismatched chairs. It was subtle, but constant. He caught it each time, tracking the little way Eddie’s shoulders eased when he saw the still open door.

‘It’s weird.’ Eddie’s thought suddenly broke through.

-What is?-

‘Being here. With the. Like no one’s… Afraid of us. Like no one’s watching, waiting for us to screw up.’

-No one here was ever afraid of you.- Steve kept his tone low, warm, a quiet comfort meant to hold Eddie steady.

Eddie huffed, eyes dropping to his place. ‘Yeah, well.. First time they’re all seeing me like this, though. They’ve met you with fangs before..’

-Eds..-

‘Harrington, you haven’t looked in a mirror lately.’

His mouth twitched, the corner of his mouth almost giving into a grin. -Don’t need to. I’ve got you for that.-

Eddie’s joy came through soft, almost unwilling, and he shook his head as if to wave the comment off. But he didn’t push. The air between them stayed warm and quiet, threading through with the low, steady thrum of everything they weren’t ready to say out loud.

From the couch, Lucas’s voice rose in a joke about the basketball team’s terrible season without him, but Steve noticed how his eyes drifted toward them for a heartbeat- then slid away again, quick like it had never happened.

---

It was late enough that the shadows outside had deepened into one solid dark, the kind that made the porch light pool gold in the gravel. Inside, the air had shifted- conversation dropping to low murmurs, movements becoming slower, softer. People were starting to gather their bags, pull on jackets, put on their shoes, glancing toward the door with that reluctant but inevitable end-of-the-night weight.

Eddie had never fully stopped checking the door, a quick slide of his eyes toward the outside, just to reassure himself it was still open. When the first cluster of people stepped toward it, he caught Steve’s gaze.

‘Smells clean out there.’ Eddie brushed across the bond. ‘No rot, no ash, nothing nasty close by either.’

He gave the barest nod. -Still checking anyway.-

‘Always.’

The groups spilled out onto the porch in a slow, gradual shift- some lingering inside to squeeze in another minute of chatter, others stepping into the barely-there summer chill. Eddie and Steve followed, close enough to keep the door propped just a hand’s width.

They didn’t have to exchange words to continuously scent the air, each pulling in the crisp night for any sign of danger. But there was none, just gravel, pine, the lingering traces of exhaust from earlier. The faint scent of a demogorgon from days ago somewhere far deeper down in the woods.

Hugs were kept soft, pats gentle. Dustin’s was awkward but ernest, his hand lingering a beat too long on their arms before he stuffed both into his pockets. Robin’s quick squeeze was warm but careful. Her jaw tightening for a fraction of a second when she stepped back, like she was clamping something down.

Lucas clapped them both on the shoulder like they were teammates leaving a locker room after a hard game, his palms pressing a little harder than normal. And his gaze lingered flicking between them, sharp with something he didn’t want to say. Nobody stayed too close for too long, like holding on might make it harder.

Max hovered for a second, her hand twitching like she wanted to reach for Steve but thought better of it. “You’ll… Let us know, right?” Her voice was quieter than usual. “If something happens. Or even, if you think it’s nothing.”

His mouth opened, but Eddie beat him to it. “You’ll hear from us.” He said, voice steady, certain. “We’re not disappearing. Not like that.”

Eleven was last. She hesitated just a beat after everyone else had headed towards their cars, then she stepped forward and touched their joined hands with a small, gentle pat. Her eyes flickered between them- something like understanding there- before darting once toward the tree line, quick and assessing, like she was making sure they weren’t being watched. Then she turned and trotted off towards Hopper’s truck.

Hopper was halfway in already when he looked back, one hand catching the doorframe as he pulled himself back. He crossed back to the porch quickly when he realized they were stepping off it too. The thought that he had planned on letting them stay, was something they’d put off for another time.

There was something unreadable in his face, but his hand was solid where it landed on Steve’s shoulder, then Eddie’s. “Don’t be strangers anymore, alright?.. That means you too, Munson.”

It wasn’t a command, not really. But it carried weight.

Steve glanced at Eddie, and Eddie looked right back before they both nodded. He leaned forward slightly, voice carrying just enough for everyone still within earshot. “You will hear from us. That’s a promise.”

Robin, standing by the open car door, tipped her head towards them. “Better keep it, dingus. I’ll hunt you down otherwise.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” He said, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

The porch light caught in Eddie’s eyes as he looked back one last time, memorizing the shapes of them- clustered in twos and threes, reluctant to turn away. Dustin’s foot tapped against the dirt without him seeming to notice. Max pulled her hood up like armor. Lucas’s hand twitched before he shoved it back into his jacket pocket. Small things, gone in a blink.

He felt Eddie step just close enough for their shoulders to brush, like they’d always moved in sync without thought. Steve leaned that fraction closer in return, the weight of his own shoulder pressing back- a small, almost unthinking answer that said I’m here too.

And it hit him- not a big swell of emotions, but as a quiet, steady thing- that Eddie had been there through every ugly, strange, dangerous moment. And here was here now too. And, as far as he could imagine, would be there for all the rest. However long “the rest” ended up being.

From the dirt, a few of the kids glanced back- Max’s hood half-shadowing her face, Dustin’s hands jammed deep into his pockets, Lucas’s chin lifted like he wanted to make sure they were still there. Robin paused mid-step to look over her shoulder one more time before getting in.

Dustin’s mouth opened slightly, like he might call out- wait, don’t go yet- but he caught himself, teeth clicking shut as if the words were better left unspoken.

Then the car doors shut in quick succession. Engines hummed to life. One by one, the beams of headlights swept across the porch and caught Steve and Eddie side by side before angling toward the path.

Wayne stayed beside them through all of it- silent, steady, the way he’d always been. When the last set of headlights had disappeared down the gravel, it was just the three of them standing in the dark, the forest around them quiet and thankfully still.

“You did good today.” Wayne finally said, voice rough but proud. He tipped his head toward his truck. “You boys coming home or back to the cabin?”

“Cabin.” Eddie said first, his voice quieter now, glancing at Steve for confirmation.

“Cabin.” He echoed.

Wayne nodded once like that settled something, and started toward his truck. Halfway there, he turned back toward them. “Well? You boys comin’?”

They didn’t move right away- still rooted to the porch, hand in hand, breathing in the faint smell of leftover emotions, of pizza. The night air wrapped around them, cool and damp, carrying the last faint traces of everyone’s scent. When Wayne called out again, they finally eased themselves down the steps, boots crunching on leaves and dirt, and made their way toward his truck.

Without a word, they climbed into the back, ducking low so the shadows swallowed them. Eddie’s shoulder pressed lightly to his as Wayne slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The rumble was steady, familiar, almost soothing.

Neither of them spoke, but they stayed aware- breathing slow, ears twitching toward distant rustles, the wind shifting just enough to carry the scent of damp earth, gasoline, but nothing dangerous.

The road back to the clearing was rough in places, and Wayne took it slow Trees closing in around them, their limbs threading overhead to block the moon. When the truck finally rolled to a stop, the three of them got out, boots sinking into the soft damp earth.

Wayne hesitated just a moment, but he and Eddie were already moving ahead- sure-footed in the dark- and quietly guided Wayne through the uneven ground, warning him in low voices when roots or dips came up. Eddie’s hand ghosted out once to catch Wayne’s arm when a patch of mud threatened to slide him off balance.

The cabin emerged slowly from the dark- just faint outlines at first- until they were suddenly close enough for Wayne to push the door open quietly. He held it just long enough for them to slip inside, the warmth flooding out immediately, wrapping around them like a fragile promise. The steady, familiar scent of Doc’s presence downstairs drifted upward.

They moved quietly through the room, the wood floor creaking softly underfoot, making their way toward the worn bookshelf tucked into the wall. From there, down the staircase and into the bunker.

Doc was waiting for them in the kitchen, as if he’d known exactly when they would return. The soft glow of the late night kitchen light cast warm shadows across his face, highlighting the faint creases of worry that hadn’t quite left him. Two fresh mugs of blood sat on the table beside him, steam curling faintly from the surface. Next to them, a mug of rich dark coffee waited for Wayne.

“Long day.” Doc murmured quietly, pushing the mugs toward Steve and Eddie. “Drink.”

They sat down without a word, each taking a mug. He wrapped his hands around the warm ceramic, taking small refuge in the simple act. Eddie gave a slight nod of thanks, fingers tightening lightly around his own mug. Wayne took his coffee quietly, the silence between them comfortable- an unspoken understanding that required no explanation.

The bunker’s stillness was broken only by the faint hum of the air vents or the soft sounds of sipping- ceramic touching wood when mugs were set down, the occasional creak of a chair as someone shifted. Warm light pooled across the table, catching the stream rising from their drinks.

Steve stared into the dark surface of his mug, the metallic tang lingering on his tongue, when something inside him simply… Gave. It wasn’t loud- just a sudden, sharp inhale, then a quiet shaking sob that he tried to swallow down. His hand came up fast to cover his mouth, but his shoulders curled forward, folding himself over the table as if the weight was too much to keep upright anymore.

Beside him, Eddie’s breath hitched almost silently. He didn’t make as much sound, but tears spilled freely down his cheeks, hot and relentless, dripping down along his jaw. His hands trembled around his mug, ripples in the liquid betraying the shake in his grip. He kept his gaze low, centered on the table, blinking fiercely, but the tears fell anyway, etching wet trails down his face.

Wayne was moving before either of them could say anything. His chair scraped back quickly, his heavy boots crossing the space. He broached between them, one arm curling around Steve’s back, the other reaching for Eddie, pulling them both in until their foreheads nearly collided with his own. His grip was solid, warm, unyielding in the way only Wayne could be.

“You did good.” Wayne murmured, voice rough but steady. “You did great today. Both of you.”

Steve shook his head faintly against Wayne’s shoulder, but the arm around him only tightened. Eddie let out a small, broken sound and leaned into the hold like he couldn’t help it.

“No one’s askin’ you to be anything more than who you are.” Wayne continued, slower this time, like he was making sure the words would sink in. “You hear me? Nothin’ more. Just you.”

Doc remained in his seat, his voice threading through Wayne’s in a quiet undertone, a calm presence. “You came back in one piece. That’s what matters. The rest of it.. The rest can wait.”

Wayne kept a hand firm at the napes of their necks, thumbs brushing gently. He held them there, being a calm comfort until their breathing began to slow, back to their abnormal, barely-there breaths. The low murmur of quiet reassurance wrapped around them, a soft shield against the weight of everything they’d had to face.

After a long moment, Steve lifted his head, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Eddie’s fingers found his again, intertwining tightly. The warmth of that simple touch rooted them back to this moment, here and now- safe, together, not alone.

Wayne gave a small nod and rose, breaking the embrace slowly, carefully, his hands lingering on their shoulders. “Get some rest. We’ll face whatever’s next together.”

He and Eddie exchanged a look- fragile but full of quiet strength- and nodded.

---

Back in Eddie’s room, the world outside seemed to shrink into silence. The muffled hum of the bunker’s vents, the faint creak of settling wood above- it all faded until there was nothing left but the soft weight of each other’s presence.

Steve was wrapped in one of Eddie’s homemade oversized Hellfire Club sweatshirts, the fabric soft and worn, falling loose over his frame. His legs were tucked comfortably into a pair of faded sweatpants, the kind that smelled so very faintly of Eddie’s old cologne and worn leather- a scent that felt like home.

Eddie, in turn, wore one of Steve’s sweaters, the faded blue stretched just right over his shoulders, paired with his own sweatpants. Wayne had brought over sets of their old clothes just before their phone call with the Party. They still smelled faintly of them, as if they’d been worn just last week instead of years ago.

Now, they lay curled together on the bed, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows against the wall. His head rests against Eddie’s shoulder, his hand splayed lightly over his chest, needing to feel the faint, almost imperceptible beat beneath. Eddie’s hand came up to cover Steve’s, his other arm draped around him protectively. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles over Steve’s back- a silent promise more binding than words.

Neither spoke aloud. The air between them was heavy with the day’s emotions- raw, frayed at the edges, but no longer sharp enough to cut. Instead, the words slipped quietly through the bond, threading through their connection.

-I’m so tired.- His thoughts whispered, slow, weighted, but calm.

‘Me too.’ Eddie replied, warmth threading into the connection, steady and sure.

-Thank you for staying.- His voice trembled, as if the words themselves might splinter if spoken aloud.

‘Always sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.’

They stayed like that for a long time, pressed together, the ache in the chests easting under the shared quiet. Simply existing close and broken, wrapped in each other’s presence without needing to say more.

His eyes drifted half-shut before opening again, just enough to catch Eddie’s profile in the low light- the slope of his nose, the loose fall of his hair, the faint creases in his brow that meant he was thinking about something he didn’t want to bother Steve with. It was the kind of sight that disappeared if you blinked too long, but he kept his gaze there anyway, memorizing it like it was the first and last time all at once.

Eddie glanced down then, catching him in the act. He didn’t say anything, just gave the faintest twitch of a smile- one he felt more than saw- before letting his fingers sweep another lazy arc across his back.

The moment slipped back into stillness, the bond humming with quiet understanding. Somewhere above them, the cabin settled with a faint creak. Down the hall, Doc’s footsteps passed by once, then faded. The night beyond their door could have stretched on forever.

Eventually, Steve let his eyes close, not out of exhaustion alone, but because the safety of this moment made it possible. His breathing was slow but uneven now, each inhale catching just slightly before it found its rhythm again. His head felt heavy on Eddie’s shoulder. His fingers flexed lightly over Eddie’s chest, as if trying to memorize the beat below.

-I can’t sleep.- The thought came hesitant, fragile. As if even admitting it might pop the calm bubble they’d carved out down here.

‘Me neither.’ Eddie’s hand over his tightened just a fraction, his thumb brushing absently over Steve’s knuckles slowly.

-They were just so… Normal. About everything.-

‘Tell me about it.’ Eddie’s voice carried the same dazed disbelief Steve felt. ‘No one asked anything. No weird looks either. No “Hey, so about that lab”. It was just… Like we were hanging out. Like.. Like a regular weekend.’

-It was weird, right?- He turned his hand over so their fingers could link properly, the uncertainty in his thoughts softened by exhaustion.

‘Yes!’ Eddie’s mind flared with wry amusement. ‘I didn’t wanna say it, but yeah. It was fuckin’ weird.’ His fingers gave gentle taps against Steve’s hip. ‘But I think.. They were probably scared we’d run off.’

He gave a quiet hum of agreement. -They probably were. Guess they don’t know we’re already kinda stuck here.-

‘Guess they don’t know that I’m not lettin’ you run anywhere without me.’ Eddie’s tone was light, but the warm, fierce thread underneath it made Steve’s chest ache in that too-full way he’d started to associate with Eddie.

-Good. ‘Cause I’m not planning on it.-

They fell quiet again- just the slow, even sound of Eddie’s breathing beneath his ear, the solid weight of Eddie’s hand against his hip, the steady thumb brushing over the back of his hand like it was counting time.

Then, softer now, frayed at the edges, Steve’s thoughts nudged gently against the bond. -I think it freaked me out more than I thought it would.-

‘Yeah?’

-Yeah it was just… Easy. No one watching to see if we’d mess up. They were just.. Sitting there, laughing. Like it’s always been that way. Like everything was normal and we weren’t gone or.. Or us.-

Eddie’s thumb pressed a little firmer against his hip. ‘You’re not used to that? They weren’t normal about it before… Before?’

-No… Not really? They were okay about it, but sometimes it was just.. They’d forget I overheat easily now. Or that I could hear it when they lie or.. I think sometimes they just pretended I was still human.- He sucked in a soft, deliberate breath. -I’m not sure I know what to do with it now. Now that.. Things are different.-

‘You don’t have to do anything with it, sweetheart. We just… We let it be what it is. We’ll see where it goes.’

He let that settle, turning it over the way you might roll a smooth stone between your fingers. -It.. It felt good though.-

‘Yeah..’ Eddie agreed, warmth rolling through the bond. ‘Yeah it did.’

He closed his eyes, pressing in closer to the heartbeat beneath his hand. -And scary. Which is stupid.-

‘Not stupid.’ Eddie’s tone was firm. ‘We’ve been wired to expect the rug to get yanked out from under us. We’ve got something good going on down here, but out there.. It’s like.. Wait- where’s the catch?’

-..Exactly.-

‘I get it.. I kept waiting for someone to say something, or for the whole thing to go sideways. But it didn’t And I hate now surprised I am by it.’

He breathed in slowly, letting the scent of Eddie- warm leather, faint cologne, and something that was just him- settle into him. -Do you think it’ll stay like that?-

A quick squeeze to his hip, then a quiet answer. ‘I hope so… But even if it doesn’t.. You’ve got me. And I’ve got you. That’s not changing anytime soon. Ever if I have my way.’ The last part was added quieter, as if it wasn’t meant for him to hear.

Something in his chest loosened, just enough to let him breathe a little easier. -Yeah.. You’re right. Me and you.. Wayne and Doc too.-

Eddie’s fingers gave a final squeeze, sealing the thought. ‘Yeah.. You, me, Wayne, and Doc.’

Steve’s gaze lingered on him in the dim light, catching the way Eddie’s hair had fallen over his forehead, the faint creases at the corner of his eyes that deepened when he was holding something back. It was one of those little details that only he could see, but it was proof- proof that this was real, here, now.

They didn’t say anything more after that- just let the quiet settle, sharing warmth, their joined hands resting between them, their bodies angled close enough that he could feel every steady breath Eddie took.

Somewhere far upstairs, a floorboard creaked and went still again, like even the house knew to keep the peace. The weight of the day was finally starting to fade enough to let sleep come creeping in at the edges.

They lay there in the dark for a long stretch, the silence thick but not heavy- more like a blanket than a wall. The air was still, warm from the shared body heat now under the covers. Every so often, the bed frame gave a barely there tired creak when one of them shifted. The sound soft enough to be swallowed almost immediately by the quiet.

Through the bond, little fragments from earlier drifted unbidden- Eddie’s mind still carrying the ghost of Wayne’s rough, steady hand on his shoulder; Steve catching the echo of the mug’s warmth between his palms, the faint smell of coffee, even though hours had passed. There was a whisper of voices from the kitchen low, easy tones that didn’t need to include them to make them feel welcome.

Somewhere in Eddie’s thoughts, a flash of Mike’s exaggerated groan when Lucas had brought up the volcano, Dunstin’s defensive shouts. A flash of pizza boxes and Jonathan’s awkward wave. Secret, glimpses of Steve, watching him, the flare of warmth at seeing him almost searing.

Steve’s thoughts came slower now, burred at the edges, almost slurring. -Still can’t believe no one said anything.- His voice carried that half-dazed edge of someone too tired to put up walls.

Eddie’s voice was softer now too, almost a murmur that Steve could feel more than hear. ‘Yeah.. Guess we’ll just have to get used to that.. For now at least.’ Eddie’s chest rose and fell beneath him in slow, steady waves, his heartbeat a quiet rhythm under their still joined hands.

A pause. Steve’s mind tilted sideways into something smaller, more instinctive. -You’re warm.-

‘And you sweetheart, are a blanket hog.- Eddie teased faintly, though his grip didn’t loosen. His thumb brushed lazily across the back of Steve’s hand in time with his breathing. The bond carried Eddie’s own private memories again- Steve curled up against him on the couch. Stubbornly leaning into his side even though they were wrapped in a blanket. Steve’s head tucked under his chin.

Steve let out a quiet, pleased hum, muffled even more against Eddie’s shoulder. -Don’t care. Need it. Mm always cold.-

‘Take it.’ Eddie let the words drift lazy and fond. ‘I’ll survive with you pressed to me like an octopus.’

His mind was already dipping, the space between his thoughts stretching further apart. -You smell like that soap I like.-

Eddie’s tone was amused, but it wove through the bond like a lullaby. ‘You didn’t mention you liked it. Noted. Gonna have Doc buy ten more bars tomorrow.’ In the back of his mind, Steve caught a flicker- Eddie leaning against the bathroom counter that morning, towel around his shoulders, steam curling in the air.

He didn’t answer right away. His breathing had started to match Eddie’s without him noticing, the two of them syncing until the rhythm was impossible to tell apart. Then, almost as if he’d forgotten he could speak out loud, he whispered. “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t.” Eddie promised quietly, his voice barely more than a breath. “Not ever.” He added even quieter.

For a moment, nothing moved. Eddie’s fingers flexed once against Steve’s hip- barely there, but enough to remind him he was being held. Through the bond came that warm, wordless thread Eddie always seemed to have for him, like a hand at his back. It wasn’t a promise that things would stay easy, but it was better- an unshakable certainty that even if the world shifted again, they’d still have this.

He breathed in deep, let it out slowly, and for the first time all day, the knot in his chest eased just enough for him to really feel it. They weren’t asleep yet, but the kind of quiet they’d found was almost better.

---

Steve stood barefoot in the driveway of his home, the pavement warm under his feet, cicadas humming somewhere high in the trees. The sun was bright in his eyes- a gold that spoke of later summer afternoons, the kind that made shadows stretch long and soft. The air smelled like cut grass, and from somewhere inside the house, his mother’s voice floated out, low and melodic, though the words wouldn’t hold still long enough to understand.

It should have been perfect. It almost was.

But under the surface, there was something faint- like static on a record, there and gone so quickly he could almost pretend he imagined it. The edges of the lawn seemed too green. The shadows of the trees leaned a little too far, bending toward him instead of away.

He wanted up the front walk without thinking, fingertips brushing the wood of the door. It felt wrong- smooth in some spots, splinted in others, as though two different moments had been pressed together. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the warmth, the cicadas’ hum, the memory-like comfort of being here.

Then a voice broke through.

Hey, Stevie.

Steve turned, slower than he wanted too, and Eddie was there. Not walking up the drive- just there, in the middle of the yard like he’d been standing there all along. His hair a dark halo in the sunlight. He smiled, but it wasn’t quite right. Almost. The instant he saw him, he knew: this was a dream. But somehow- impossibly- Eddie was in it.

The bond hummed suddenly, threading through the air, sharper and clearer than the wrapped sunlight around them.

“You’re-” He started, but the words didn’t know where to go.

Eddie looked down at his own hands, flexing them like he was testing their weight. “Guess I am.” His voice was soft, almost in awe. “Is this… How you see me?” The smile he gave was gentler than Steve knew how to name. He took a step forward.

For a breath, the static quieted. They stood close, not touching, cicadas fading to a distant hush. Then Steve’s gaze drifted to the horizon, and something in his chest twisted.

The edges were wrong- blurry in places, razor sharp in others, like a photograph both overexposed and underdeveloped.

Eddie’s brows drew together as he stepped forward, closing the distance. “What is it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t-” He swallowed, his throat was tight. “It feels like… This isn’t… This is.. This is-” He didn’t finish, because Eddie’s fingers slid into his, curling warm and certain.

And suddenly, Steve knew exactly what was wrong.

This wasn’t a real memory. Not even a true dream either. It was one of those- the stitched-together kind, the fake ones that lived like landmines in his head, built from scraps until he couldn’t tell where the truth had been cut out.

The realization cracked something open inside him. The light around them went too bright, the edges burning away. His mother’s voice wavered into something tiny, wrong- he realized he hadn’t heard it in years, and it had never sounded as happy as that.

He sucked in a breath, sharp and uneven-

-

-and shot upright in bed.

The world went black. No gold light. No cicadas. Just the heavy dark of the bedroom pressing in, the air still and too cold after the false warmth of the dream. His chest heaved, heart hammering against his ribs, sweat cooling fast along his skin. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe around the pounding in his ears. The sudden absence of light made the dream feel like it had been ripped away mid-breath, leaving only the hollow afterimage behind.

Beside him, Eddie stirred with a slow, disoriented sound, blinking into the dark. His eyes adjusted to the night, finding his rigid outline. “Steve?” His voice was thick with sleep, confusion threading through the bond like a half-formed question. “What-What happened?”

He didn’t answer, dragging in shaky uneven breaths, both hands pressing hard against his knees like he had to hold himself together or the dream’s warped edges might still follow him here. His skin prickled as if the sunlit sky had burned him.

Eddie’s eyes cleared slowly as the weight beside him shifted, when he heard Steve’s breath coming in ragged, uneven pulls he pushed himself upright. The haze of sleep quickly falling away as he caught sight of him- sitting rigid, hands now twisted in the blanket, his whole body trembling like he was holding himself together by sheer will.

“Hey.” His voice was low, careful, the kind meant for someone fragile. As if the wrong tone might shatter him completely. “I’m right here.” He closed the space slowly, giving Steve room to pull away, then wrapped his arms firmly around his back, a palm rubbing slow, grounding circled along his arm. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

He made a sound- quiet, broken- into Eddie’s shoulder, the kind of sound that made Eddie’s chest ache. “This… This is real?” His voice was muffled, shaky, small enough to make Eddie’s arms tighten without thinking.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Eddie said softly, hooking his chin on Steve’s shoulder like he could keep him physically anchored here. “This is real… I don't know what just happened, but I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Steve let himself lean in, the trembling in his arms finally starting to ease as Eddie’s warmth pressed firmly into his side. His breathing slowed from jagged gulps into something steadier, the pounding in his ears giving way to the quieter rhythm slowly coming to match Eddie’s own.

When his voice came again, it was quiet, hesitant, the words catching on their way out. “It was… One of the fake memories they put in me.” His gaze stayed low, fixed on the twisted blanket under his fingers. “I was just gonna go inside and-” He broke off, swallowing. His words caught somewhere inside him. “...But then.. I realized it wasn’t real. When you took my hand, I just.. Knew. Somehow.”

His brow furrowed faintly. “How.. Were you there?”

Eddie pulled back just enough to see his face, but kept his hands on him. He bent in and pressed a light kiss to Steve’s shoulder before answering. “I have no idea.” He admitted, tone soft but honest. “But if I had to guess… I think it’s our bond.” A small huff escaped his nose, not quite a laugh, his eyes slowly scanning Steve’s face. “I felt your fear. And it was.. Weird, different. The bond was warmer, somehow. Then… I was just there. I don’t even know if I was dreaming before.”

His thumb traced small circles into Steve’s arm, steady and sure.

The room settled back into a quiet hum, but it was thick with things unspoken but not uncomfortable. Steve let it be, letting Eddie’s warmth push back the cold edges the dream had left behind, let the steady contact keep him here.

After a minute, his mouth twitched faintly, as if to smile. “Well.. At least I wasn’t screaming this time.”

Eddie huffed out a dry, reluctant laugh, shaking his head. “Not funny.” He muttered, but there was no bite to it- only a weary affection. He leaned in and pressed another kiss to Steve’s shoulder, lingering there for a beat.

Then, with slow, careful movement, Eddie eased them both back down. Steve let himself be tugged until his head rested on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s arm curling securely around him. Fingers sliding into Steve’s hair, combing in slow rhythmic strokes.

“You’re alright.” Eddie whispered, over and over, the words low and steady in the dark. “You’re here. You’re safe, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Always.”

And with each repetition, the fake dream seemed smaller, its edges fading until the warmth between them was the only thing left.

---

The four of them sat at the kitchen table, the bright overhead lights doing their meat impression of the morning sun. Shadows were soft and shallow here, no hint of the night that had clawed at his sleep. Plates sat half-empty, smudges of syrup and crumbs. Forks scraped occasionally, the clink of mugs being set down seemed to echo in the silence.

It wasn’t tense, not exactly, but careful. Like everyone seemed to be listening for something that hadn’t happened yet. Like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Eddie was the one to finally break it, his voice tentative. “So… What do we do now?”

Wayne set his coffee down with a soft thunk. Doc followed with his own a beat later, the dull clink of ceramic against wood somehow loud in the hush. Wayne’s gaze moved between them, steady and warm, a small, gentle smile curling his lips, the one he saves just for them.

“Whatever you want.” His voice was plain, certain, like there was no question about it. “We can call Owens, have a story put out about you bein’ alive, if you want. You can go visit your friends. Whatever you’d like- you’re free.”

Steve’s eyes flicked to meet his for a second before dropping back to the table. The crease between his brows easing just enough to be noticeable. He straightened up, wiggling in his chair, shoulders rolling back like he was bracing himself.”

“...I’d like to.. See my house again.” His voice was so quiet the hum of the fridge almost drowned him out.

Wayne’s gaze softened, and he nodded slowly. “Whenever you’re ready. I can come with if you’d like, or I can give you the keys.”

Doc leaned forward slightly, hands cradling his mug as if weighting the words. “Might be better to do it late afternoon, maybe closer to evening. That way any neighbors might be too busy to notice you.”

The suggestion was met with small nods around the table. Eddie’s hand twitched against his thigh like he wanted to reach for Steve’s but held back, letting the choice be his. Steve’s thumb moved in slow, unconscious circles along the edge of his place, his gaze fixed there as though it was easier than looking at anyone.

“I’d… I’d like to go tonight, if possible.” He finally said, steady but quiet. “Before.. Before I lose the nerve.”

Wayne’s hand shifted slightly on the table, fingers flexing like he was resisting the urge to close the distance. “Alright,” he said simply, the warmth in his tone wrapping around the words. “Tonight, then.”

Eddie’s nod beside him was small but sure, the weight of it almost a promise. Doc glanced between them, already rearranging plans in his head.

“Alright, I’ll make that work,” he said, practical but gentle. “I’ll check the soldiers rotation schedules short, find you a route with the least chance of running into anyone.”

Another nod from Wayne, another small current of silent agreement moving around the table. The silence returned then, but it felt different this time- less fragile.

The four of them stayed at the table a little longer than necessary, the scrape of forks giving way to the softer clink of mugs and the faint gurgle of the coffeemaker keeping itself warm. The food was gone for the most part, but no one seemed in a hurry to stand.

He could feel Eddie’s gaze before he caught it- just a flicker at the edge of his vision, quick enough he almost convinced himself he’d imagined it. When he finally glanced up, Eddie was looking down at his plate again, tearing a piece of toast into small, uneven chunks like the motion might cover for whatever had been in his eyes a second ago.

It wasn’t pity. He would’ve recognized that immediately. This was something quieter, sharper, and harder to name- something that made the corner of his chest ache in a way he didn’t want to examine too closely right now.

He went back to tracing the edge of his plate, the porcelain cool under his thumb. He didn’t say anything, but Eddie’s foot nudged lightly against his under the table, the brieftest touch, like checking if he was still there. He didn’t move away.

Wayne and Doc had slipped into a low conversation about supply runs, the words soft enough to fade into background noise. The air in the kitchen had shifted- still calm, but warmer now, like the choice to go tonight had given the morning a purpose.

When Wayne finally stood to rinse his mug, the sound of water running in the sink seemed to pull everyone back into motion. Chair scraped back; Doc excused himself with a quiet promise to “have everything ready by five.”

Steve lingered just long enough to catch Eddie’s glance again, brief but certain, before following him toward the living room. It wasn’t much- just a look- but it settled somewhere deep in him.

The hours after breakfast stretched and folded in on themselves. Wayne busied himself somewhere down the hall, in his own little workshop, the occasional clang of tools echoing faintly down the hall. Doc had disappeared into his office, murmuring into a phone in that clipped, official way that made the air feel charged.

He and Eddie had ended up in the living room, sprawled out on the love seat, a blanket draped over both of them more for comfort than warmth. The TV played something forgettable, some old action flick filled with cheesy explosions every other scene- volume low, just enough noise to fill the spaces between them.

He sat beside Eddie, one leg tucked under himself, the other bouncing in a steady rhythm that never quite stopped.

Every few minutes, he’d shift- elbow on the armrest, elbow on his knee, leaning back, leaning forward. His eyes kept flicking toward the door like he expected to see something- or someone- out there. After the first big chase scene he was back to sitting up, his knee bouncing again, he hadn’t laughed at a single ridiculous one-liner.

His mind kept circling back to what was coming- walking into the house he hadn’t seen since everything changed, the place that still lived in his memory like it had been frozen mid-breath. Every so often, Eddie’s knee would bump into his, or his arm would shift just enough to brush Steve’s side, small reminders that he wasn’t going into this alone.

For a while, Eddie watched him. Though he tried to pretend he wasn’t, until he finally muted the TV when Steve’s knee began bouncing again. “Alright, Harrington.” He pushed himself up “This clearly isn’t doing it for you. Come on.”

He looked up, brows furrowing. “What?”

“Gym.” Eddie stated simply, holding out his hand. “Move your legs for a reason besides rattling the loveseat apart.”

He huffed but let himself be hauled up. They padded down the hallway to the gym, the cool air smelling faintly of rubber mats and machine oil. He stood there for a moment before Eddie placed a hand gently on his lower back, guiding him over to the treadmills. “Walk it off.”

With another huff he climbed onto the treadmill, and for a while, it worked. Steady footfalls, the whir of the belt, the thump of socked feet. But after fifteen minutes, he slowed, grimacing.

“This isn’t working.” He muttered, hopping off.

Eddie’s eyes sparkled with a touch of mischief, worry still creeping in behind it. “Then.. Let’s hit something.” He guided Steve over to the new and ‘improved’ hanging bags. Ones Doc had specially made by his ‘discrete friend’.

He rolled his eyes, letting his shoulders roll as well, his arms loose, though his mind was not really in it. At first, his hits were controlled- measured jabs, a few awkwards hooks. But the more he let himself think, the harder his fists connected, the bag swinging with each impact.

Eddie stood off to the side, leaning against the wall, offering the occasional, “Yeah, like that.” or “Relax your shoulders sweetheart.”

It built- hit after hit- until his breathing was ragged and his punches had lost form entirely. One particularly hard cross missed its intended mark. His body throwing itself forward, fist slamming into the concrete just past the stand. There was a sharp, heavy crack followed by the faint crumble of dust.

He froze, slowly pulling back to see a brand-new, perfectly fist-shaped hole.

Eddie let out a long, low whistle, pushing off the wall. “Well..” His lips twitched, trying to suppress a smile. “Guess we’re redecorating.. Again.”

He stared at the hole, chest still heaving. “Shit… Sorry. Doc’s gonna-”

“Don’t.” Eddie quickly cut in, stepping closer, a hand sliding across Steve’s lower back. “Better the wall than someone getting hurt, right?.. Come on, Rocky. Let’s get some water before you start punching through to the next room.” He placed a barely there kiss on Steve’s cheek.

His eye roll this time was dramatic, the kind that was all habit, but it didn’t quite land- mostly because there was the faintest curve of a smile tugging at his lips. He let out a quiet breath, shaking his head.

“I just…” Steve started, voice lower now, more tired than he meant for it to sound. “I can’t turn my brain off.” He walked over to the corner sink, rinsing his hands of the dust. “I keep thinking about what I might find when we get there. Or what I might see. Or…” He swallowed, looking at the floor like the words were too heavy. “What I might remember about that night. When-When they took me.”

Eddie didn’t say anything- just stood close, listening.

His brows furrowed again, his tone dipping even quieter. “Or worse… What if there’s nothing? No clue, no- no memory. Just the same blurred crap I’ve had in my head since it happened.” He shook his head again, sharper this time. “I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

He grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands, letting it drop into the waste bin with a soft thud. He flexed his hands again, restless, before shoving them into the pockets of his sweats like he was trying to keep them still by force.

Eddie’s voice was soft, steady in a way Steve had come to recognize as being forced, deliberate. “No matter what happens.. I’ll be right there. And Wayne will be too.” He kept his eyes on Steve for a moment longer, as if trying to force the words to sink in, before he slowly slid his hand back to Steve’s lower back, and began guiding him toward the door.

“I know just the thing to help.” Eddie added, a faint smirk pulling at his lips.

He let out a small huff, the corner of his mouth twitching. “For once,” he started, dryly. “I’m not in the mood to suck your dick. As nice as it might be.”

Eddie’s laugh exploded out of him, loud and unrestrained, and before Steve could so much as react, Eddie leaned in and planted a quick, warm kiss to his cheek. “That, for once, isn’t what I meant. As much as I enjoy your efforts to suck out what remains of my soul. But now.. You’re just gonna have to wait and see what the surprise is.”

He led them back to his room, flicking the light dimmer low so the edges of the space felt soft and warm. “Get in bed.” Eddie said softly, nodding toward it. “Get comfy.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, sliding under the blanket, sitting up. Eddie busied himself at the desk for a moment, rummaging through an unorganized stack of things before joining Steve on the bed. He slipped in behind him, legs bracketing Steve’s sides, pulling him back against his chest in an easy, practiced hold.

That was when he noticed what Eddie was holding- a fresh, crisp copy of The Fellowship of the Ring.

“I was hoping.” Eddie started, flipping the book between his hands. “We could start back at the beginning. And maybe, actually, finish it this time. Before anything else life altering happens.”

Something warm loosened in his chest and he fully leaned back into Eddie. The bond between them sparking gently with the comfort of it. “I’d love that.” He quietly answered.

“Good surprise?.. Had Doc pick me up a new copy for down here.”

He gave a small, genuine smile, pulling the blanket higher as he started to relax. “Yeah… The best.”

Eddie grinned, leaning down to place a kiss to the crown of Steve’s head, before he cracked the book open. The bond settling with warmth between them. “Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the dwarf-lords in their-” His voice wrapped around them like a warm blanket as he read.

His voice was low and steady, the kind of cadence that made every sentence feel like it belonged exactly where it was. He even started to do different voices for the characters, careful not to jostle Steve with his hands movement.

Steve let himself sink into it, into the warmth of Eddie’s chest against his back, the occasional shift of Eddie’s breath brushing warm across his temple. The vibrations against him as he spoke. The steady rhythm of the words, the gentle rise and fall of his tone- it all felt like it was wrapping around him, heavier as the time grew, grounding him in a way that made the edges of his thoughts blur.

At some point, without thinking about it, he’d reached for Eddie’s free hand. His fingers finding the cool metal of rings, tracing the grooves in the familiar skull, the worn band with the tiny crack near the edge, the one with the swirling design that he thought felt like a maze under his thumb. His movements were slow, aimless, more about touch than curiosity, and Eddie stilled almost imperceptibly.

The pause in the reading was enough for him to notice. He tilted his head just slightly, but Eddie’s chin stayed tucked over his shoulder, eyes on him instead of the page. For a moment, neither of them said anything- just a small, suspended bubble of quiet where the only sound was their breathing, syncing in and out.

Eddie’s gaze softened in that way it did when he wasn’t trying to hide how much he saw, how much he cared. It made Steve’s chest ache, but in a good way- the way that felt like there was too much in him, too much to say, and nowhere to put it.

Then Eddie, with a faint twist of his lips, looked back at the book and picked up right where he’d left off, like the pause had never happened. His voice slid back into the story, warm and textured, the words vibrating faintly against his back.

He kept playing with the rings, turning them gently, slipping them halfway off only to slide them back into place, letting his fingers memorize the shapes all over again. It was mindless and intimate, the kind of touch that didn’t ask for anything- just gave.

Every so often, his eyes would drift from the page in front of them to Eddie’s face in his peripheral vision. And every so often, Eddie’s eyes would flick toward him, just for a heartbeat, like they couldn’t help it. Neither of them said anything, but the looks said plenty- more than either of them were ready to speak aloud.

The book's words filled the room, the different voices echoing off the walls. But underneath them, there was something else- quiet and steady and unshakeable.

---

Eventually, they peeled themselves out of bed, the book left half-open on the pillows with Eddie’s promise- we’ll finish it later, swear on my guitar- still lingering in the air.

Steve traded his sweatpants for jeans, tugging on a worn dark blue t-shirt that definitely wasn’t his. Or at least, it was now. Half of Eddie’s drawer space had been claimed by his things, and his own dresser was cluttered with Eddie’s jeans and old band tees.

It was so normal now that neither of them even thought about it- they just moved around each other easily, grabbing clothes from wherever they ended up.

Eddie pulled on a pair of dark jeans and one of Steve’s old brown t-shirts, the fabric soft and slightly faded from years of wash cycles. It made Steve’s chest tighten in a weird, warm way, seeing his boyfriend wear it like it had always been his. Like they’d been doing this for years.

The knot of nerves in his stomach wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t choking him like before. Still, it pulsed under his skin, running down the bond in a low, restless hum. Eddie felt it- he could tell- but Eddie didn’t call him out on it. Instead, he sent that steady reassurance back along the thread: a quiet warmth, like the mental equivalent of a hand on the back of his neck.

‘We’ll eat, and then we’ll go.’ Eddie’s voice brushed against his thoughts. ‘And if you want, we can pick right back up where we left off, tonight.’

He managed a small nod, tucking that away like an anchor.

They walked down the hall together, the bright light from the kitchen spilling across the hall. The smell of something warm and savory greeted them first- Wayne at the stove, sleeves rolled up, working with the same slow, unhurried precision he always had.

The second Wayne turned and saw them, he abandoned the pan entirely. Without a word, he crossed the kitchen and wrapped Steve in a hug- solid, real, and smelling faintly of coffee and cigarettes.

“You know,” Wayne said quietly, his voice rumbling through the embrace, “we can wait. No rush if y’er not ready.”

He gave a small shake of his head, pressing his palms lightly against Wayne’s back before pulling away. “I need to do it now.” The truth of it sat heavily in his chest. If he didn’t do it now, he’d never want to again. “Just… A little nervous is all.”

Wayne’s eyes softened, but he didn’t push. He gave Steve’s shoulder a final squeeze and nodded once before heading back to the stove.

Doc stepped in then, like he’d been there the whole time. He didn’t bother with greetings beyond a quick nod; instead, he moved straight to Wayne’s side, scanning the stove before picking up a wooden spoon and sitting whatever was simmering there.

“Soldier rotation’s the same as usual tonight.” Doc started, voice low but casual, like he was reporting on the weather. “But they’re focused on the opposite side of Hawkins tonight, thankfully it seems some of the monsters were spotted. Small miracles.” He glanced over at Steve, just for a second. “So you boys should have an easier time getting there.”

He felt a flicker of relief ripple down the bond- Eddie’s, not his own- and Doc kept talking, his tongue matter-of-fact. “Also, it would seem the neighbor to the left of your home moved out some time after the quakes and no one’s moved back in. And the man on the right? He’s on some big summer trip, been gone a few days already.”

Eddie arched a brow. “So basically, perfect timing.”

Doc gave a small shrug, the king of noncommittal gesture that still managed to feel like agreement. “Couldn’t ask for better.”

Wayne passed him a plate like it was all part of their normal routine, and within a few minutes dinner was on the table.

Their meal stayed quiet after that, comfortable silence wrapping around them again. The only interruptions were the scrape of forks and the occasional soft clink of glasses. Every so often, Steve felt Eddie brush against the bond- wordless at first, just a steady pulse of reassurance, like someone running a thumb along the back of his hand.

Then little murmurs followed.
‘You’re alright.’
‘I’m right here.’
‘It’ll be just fine.’

Steve didn’t respond, but let each one settle in, the tension in his shoulders easting fraction by fraction as they ate.

When the plates were cleared, Wayne set his keys down in the center of the table. No fanfare, just the faint jingle of metal against wood. The sound made his stomach dip, not from dread exactly, but from the sudden awareness that there was no more waiting.

Doc glanced at the clock. “If you leave in twenty, you’ll hit the turn off when the sun disappears.”

Eddie was already on his feet, gathering their shoes. He didn’t say anything, but when he handed Steve his, his fingers lingered- just long enough for that warm, steady hum to thread through the bond again.

It was enough.

---

The old truck rattled softly as it rolled down the quiet stretch of road, the last streaks of daylight fading into a dark deepening blue. Hardly any other cars passed- if there were even people left willing to risk being out with the stay Demogorgon sightings around the outskirts of town.

Wayne was humming along to some half-familiar tune on the radio- low, easy, and completely out of time with the beat- but neither he nor Eddie were really listening.

They were curled up on the floor behind the front seats, knees tucked close, the floor lined with old blankets that smelled faintly of laundry soap and motor oil. The air coming from the open windows carried in the scent of summer, grass, and the faint tang of exhaust, but thankfully no monster, no ash. Every bump in the road made Steve shift a fraction closer into Eddie.

Through the bond, Eddie’s voice brushed against him, warm and calm, steady. ‘I’ll hold your hand the whole time if you want me too.’

His lips twitched in something not quite a smile, eyes half-lidded as he let his head tip until it rested over Eddie’s heart. He could hear the slow, even thud of his pulse. -Staying close would help.- The thought was quiet, almost shy, like he was afraid of saying it too loud.

‘Then I’ll stay close.’ Eddie promised without hesitation. His hand sliding over Steve’s hip, warm and comforting, his thumb idly brushing the seam of Steve’s jeans. The smallest touch, but the bond warmed with a wave of comfort, a feeling of reassurance that didn’t need words.

The ride settled into a hush, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel empty, just.. Still. They lay listening to the quiet rumble of tires on asphalt, the creak only they could hear of the truck’s suspension, and the faint whisper of wind curling in through the half-cracked windows.

It stayed that way for a while, until a far-off, wrapped cry carried faintly through the air. Too soft for Wayne to notice, but it cut through both of them at once. Eddie’s hand tightened just slightly against his hip. His fingers curling into the fabric of Eddie’s shirt, knuckles pressing into his side. The bond hummed with the same unease- shared, tempered, not panicked, no immediate threat. A few breaths later, the sound faded, leaving behind only the echo of it in their bones.

By the time Wayne eased the truck to a stop at the curb in front of Steve’s house, the night was fully settled in. Streetlights hummed in the distance, the halo of one pooling across cracked pavement.

Steve didn’t move right away, just quietly breathed in, slow and deliberate. Searching for anything wrong in the air. Nothing sharp. Nothing rotten. Just the familiar tang of the engine under the night air.

When nothing came- no trace of danger near of ar- he brushed the knowledge softly through the bond. Eddie’s dark eyes flicked to him, then to Wayne, and he gave a single, wordless nod. Wayne killed the engine.

The three of them climbed out, boots and sneakers slapping against pavement. He just stood there, letting Eddie shut the door as he shoved his hands into his pockets and just… Looked.

The porch light was off. The lawn needed a cut soon, the driveway would use a pressure wash. But it was his. The sight hit him square in the chest- familiar and alien all at once.

Wayne gave him a quiet moment to look around before gently cutting through the still air, voice quiet enough to feel like an offer instead of a push. “You wanna go in, son?”

Steve swallowed hard, eyes still fixed on the front door. His nod was small, almost imperceptible.

Eddie stepped up beside him, their arms brushing for just a second before his palm settled against the middle of his back. Not pushing. Just there. Guiding. Wayne walked ahead but Eddie’s hand stayed right where it was, warm through the thin cotton of Steve’s shirt.

They moved forward together- up the walk- until they were standing right there in front of the door.

His fear rippled sharp through the bond when Wayne’s keys jingled. The lock gave a familiar click, the hinges groaning softly, and then the warm glow of the entry light spilled out as Wayne flicked it on.

For a moment, he didn’t move. The sight of it- of his house- was too much, too sudden, like stepping into a memory he’d never dared to hope for again. His fingers twisted against his side before he reached out, pressing them lightly to the doorframe.

Stepping inside felt like stepping into a dream he’d had too many nights to count. Every shape, every shadow was the same, yet time had worked on it quietly, steadily. His throat tightened, his breath catching as his eyes traced the walls, stopping at the ‘family’ portrait his mother had done when he was still a child. Stopping on the furniture, always kept pristine for his parents return, or else. Stopping on the corners where memories clung like dust.

He had told himself he’d never see this place again. But then again.. He said the same about Wayne, about Eddie. And here they all were.

Eddie stayed so close he could feel the warmth of him pressing along his side, an anchor in the middle of the storm brewing inside him. Wayne hung back just enough to give space, but every time Steve’s face edged toward breaking, he spoke up in his low, steady, practical tone.

“Got the gutters cleaned out not long ago.”
“Fixed that loose board on the porch.”
“Replaced the hinges on the kitchen cabinet- don’t squeak no more, I know how you hated it.”

Little things. Solid things. Just enough to keep Steve from floating off when the weight of it all threatened to overtake him.

He drifted forward, slowly, like the house might vanish if he moved too fast. Every few steps, his hand lifted- fingertips brushing the back of the couch, the edge of the coffee table, the cool curve of the banister. Each touch was a test, a confirmation that the place was still here, still his.

His breaths came slow and shallow, like the air inside his own house might somehow be different from outside. The bond hummed with disbelief, grief, and something softer- something he didn’t quite have a name for.

When he moved back around his palm flatted against the frame of the entry into the livingroom, he turned toward Eddie. His eyes were glassy, weary, like carrying this moment was costing him. “Is this… Real?”

Eddie didn’t hesitate. He stepped into Steve’s space, shoulders brushing, voice low and sure. “Yeah, Sweetheart. It’s real. This, this is real.” He gently reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from Steve’s forehead. “And I’ll remind you of that as many times as you need. Me, you, Wayne- we’re all here, we’re all real.”

He gave a faint nod, but didn’t take his hand off the wall. He moved on- touching the coffee table again, the picture frames, the smooth corner of the kitchen counter, like each one was an anchor point. Wayne’s voice cut in again from behind him, quiet but steady.

“Deep cleaned the pool that winter. Thought if you came back, you’d like to see it cleaner than you left it.. Did it each winter too.”

A pause. Then softer, almost hesitant-

“Finally finished painting your room the way you wanted it. Was meaning to, before you.. Well..” His voice thinned, but he cleared it, holding steady.

Steve’s chest ached at the sound, a lump forming that he couldn’t quite swallow past. His hand lingered on the wall by the kitchen before he drifted toward the stairs. He stopped at the bottom, staring up at the dim hallway like it was an impossible distance. Eddie stayed close, silent but unshakeable.

His fingers curled loosely around the banister, smoothing over the worn wood. Still, he didn’t take a step. Wayne, from just behind now, offered another quiet detail.

“Replaced the light fixture at the top of the stairs. Old one was cracked and new bulbs kept flickerin’.”

Steve’s gaze flicked up at the faint glow above, but his feet stayed planted. Eddie’s hand brushed his back for the briefest second. “Still with us?”

A shallow nod. His palm pressed flat against the banister, as if to be certain it wouldn’t fade.

Wayne took a step closer, voice warm and unhurried. “Tightened that loose board halfway up. You won’t trip on it anymore.”

That earned the barest puff of breath from him- not quite a laugh, but close enough. He lifted one foot onto the first step.

Slowly he lifted the other, then again, and again, starting slowly up the stairs. Each stop echoed softly beneath his weight, a steady rhythm that seemed almost too loud for the quiet house. Eddie shadowed him, close enough that Steve could sense every shift of his weight, every breath- keeping that promise without needing to say a word. Wayne followed a few paces behind, his tread slower, deliberate, as if giving Steve the space but not solitude.

At the top of the stairs, he stopped. His bedroom door stood just a few steps away, but he didn’t move toward it yet. His eyes drifted down the hall toward his parents room, the door still closed as it had been the last time he saw it. A space that had always felt like a shrine to people who never came. His gaze lingered there, jaw tight, before flickering toward the guest rooms across the hall- spaces that had once been pristine showpieces, unused and cold.

Wayne’s voice came quietly from behind, steady but softer now, like he could feel the tension pressing down on Steve’s shoulders. “Fixed the door to the laundry room, it kept sticking. I put in new window locks up here, too- figured you’d want ‘em solid.”

A beat laster, almost as an afterthought. “Got that leak in the guest bath patched up. No more drip keeping you awake.”

Steve’s hand brushed against the wall as if testing its solidity, then dropped to his side again. He took one slow step toward his bedroom but hesitated outside the door. His fingers hovering just inches from the worn wood, trembling faintly. The chipped paint wasn’t exactly as he remembered, a quiet reminder of years that had passed, untouched but not forgotten.

The air felt heavy here, thick with the echoes of things he didn’t want to remember. The silence stretched long enough for the bond between him and Eddie to hum with unease. He just stood there, staring, the weight of everything he’d lost and found pressing down on his chest. His heart felt raw, a fragile thing held together by threads of hope and fear. Without a word, Eddie stepped up beside him, letting his arm slide around Steve’s waist in a quiet, protective hold.

He leaned back just slightly, letting himself absorb the warmth, the weight, the steadiness of Eddie’s presence.

His voice came low, barely more than a breath, shaky but honest. “I don’t know if I’m ready to open this yet… But I’m glad you’re here.”

Eddie’s fingers traced slow, comforting shapes against his side. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be right here. We’ll face it together.”

He nodded slowly, closing his eyes for a beat, sucking in a deep breath. His stomach knotted- because what if the room was exactly as he’d left it? What if it smelled like dust and disuse? What if stepping inside was like stepping back into a life he’d outgrown but never escaped? - No. I can do this. I can do this.. I have to do this. They don’t own me.-

He squared his shoulders, took another deep breath, a long shaky exhale. Then turned the knob.

The door swung open with a quiet click.

The room greeted him softly- walls now painted a soft, calming green that somehow felt both new and familiar. A far cry from the old wallpaper his mother had once insisted was ‘perfect’, which was completely gone now. The awful plaid bedding he hated was gone as well, replaced by muted browns that seemed carefully chosen, understated but warm.

But it was the walls that drew his attention. Everywhere he looked, there were photos. Wayne. The kids. The Byer’s dinner table mid-laugh. A collage of memories, most of which Jonathan had taken. And even older pictures- ones he’d been given before the fight with Vecna- tucked neatly into place among the newer ones. Countless snapshots of better times. A patchwork of joy, resilience, and moments worth holding on to.

He froze, taking it all in. The dread he’d carried up the stairs dissolving into something he hadn’t dared expect- peace.

Then, without warning, a laugh tore out of him- sudden, unsteady, and bright. It shook loose from somewhere deep inside, raw and almost uncontrollable, filling the room with unexpected joy. His lips stretched into a grin, the biggest he’d had in weeks, the kind that reached his eyes and made them shine bright.

He pressed a hand over his mouth, trying to hold back the sound. But he pulled when he felt wetness on his skin, he had started to cry too. Tears streaming down his cheeks as uncontrollable as his laughter.

The bond surged warm and bright between them, sunlight blooming through the cracks of the moment.

Through it, his thoughts brushed soft against Eddie’s. -This… This is home. You, Wayne. The Party, Doc. Not this place. All of you. This is what home is.-

Notes:

Sorry about some of the chapters coming slower than usual. I'm currently in the middle of a big move. But I will NEVER abandon this story.

Chapter 34: The Quiet Of Two

Summary:

The morning light poured through the kitchen windows, catching the steam rising from the mugs, the golden brown of the pancakes, the warm glow in Eddie’s eyes.

Notes:

There's two intimate scenes. Trust me, you can't miss 'em. There's also a lot of making out between our two favorite vampires.

Gave you all a sweet chapter. Calm before the storm, perhaps? ;)

Steve lay sprawled out on his bed, limbs flung wide like a starfish, sinking into the new blankets like they’d been spun from clouds. The fabric was soft against his skin, almost decadent compared to what used to be here.

Eddie was searching around the room like a nosy cat, opening drawers with mock-innocence and making little hums when he found them mostly empty. Not much left for him to snoop through- Wayne had already moved most of Steve’s clothes to his house or the bunker a long time ago.

Wayne himself sat at the edge of the bed, close enough that he could feel the man’s body heat. He was watching them both in that quiet, thoughtful way of his, like he was committing this exact moment to memory.. Or maybe like he was afraid that if he looked away, they’d disappear.

Steve let out a deep, slow breath, running his fingers lightly over the blanket’s surface, tracing nothing in particular. The silence between the three of them had grown comfortable, but he was the one who had to break it, voice low now. “I don’t know if I’m disappointed that I hardly remember what happened here, or.. Or relieved. I mean- this room hardly looks like my old one, so I.. It’s like a fresh start.”

Wayne shook his head gently, gaze shifting over to the photos on the wall. “I didn’t want it to look anythin’ like your old room. That was.. Somethin’ else. And like I told you boys before, trauma’s gonna keep some of those memories locked up a while. One day, they might come back. And it’ll be hard. But I’ll be here for you when it happens.”

He nodded, rubbing his palm along the blankets again. “I know.” His lips quirked faintly. “But I think.. I think I want to change this place even more. Like an actual fresh start.” He pushed himself up, leaning back onto his hands. “Make it mine. Because I own it now. No more pristine furniture or decorative bathrooms. I want a house people can actually live in- where everyone can come over and no one has to panic over a scruff mark in the kitchen.”

Eddie, not halfway buried in the closet, let out a lot, amused grumble at ‘decorative bathrooms’, muffled by the shirts he was nosing past.

Wayne just shook his head, but this time a smile was tugging at his mouth. “You’ll always have a home with me- both o’ you. But I get what you mean… Now, I’m almost outta vacation time, but you just tell me what you need and on my days off, I’ll be here to help.”

He smiled now, letting himself flop backwards onto the bed with a soft thump, staring up at the ceiling. “Thanks. That.. That means a lot, actually. And thank you for this room. It’s perfect.”

Wayne reached over and gave his hand a gentle pat before pushing himself to his feet. “You’re welcome, son. And as much as I’d love to stay and hang around, maybe brag about my handiwork some more. It’s gettin’ pretty late. You boys about ready to head out?”

Eddie turned toward them at that, now standing in front of the closet with a shirt draped over his arm- one of the ‘just in care you come back here’ shirts Wayne had left here for Steve. Their eyes met across the room, and they didn’t need the bond to know what was being said there.

“I think..” He slowly pushed himself back up, onto his elbows. “If it’s alright with you, we’re gonna stay here tonight. We’ll know if anyone’s coming around or anything, so we’ll be fine. But..” He shrugged. “Feels right to stay.”

Wayne studied him for a second, before continuing. “You sure you’re gonna be alright?”

He nodded.

“Alright then. I’ll just be a phone call away if you need me. Gonna stop by Doc, then head back to mine.” He reached down, squeezing Steve’s hand with a wordless reassurance, then crossed the room to Eddie. The hug he gave him was brief but solid. “I’ll see you boys soon.”

“Bye, Wayne.” They said together, without thinking.

They listened as footsteps retreated down the hall, down the stairs, then out the front door, locking it with a loud click. Every sound was mapped and measured, their bodies unconsciously tending as he crossed the driveway, and climbed into his truck. Only when the door shut and the engine turned over did they finally let out a shared breath, the sound quiet but laced with something unspoken- not fear exactly.

He sank back into the bed again, eyes trailing over the ceiling, feeling the lingering hum of Eddie’s presence nearby. Somewhere under the new paint, new blankets, and warm light, there were still ghosts here. But for the first time, he didn’t feel like they were the ones in control.

He let out a soft sigh now, letting his eyes trail over the green wall and down to the closet, stopping on Eddie. “So.. What exactly are you doing with my shirt?” He could hear the smile in his voice.

“Hmm? Oh! Uh-” What followed was a series of whispers so low and jumped that, even straining, he couldn’t make them out.

“What? You’re gonna have to slow down a little. I can’t understand you.”

Eddie groaned, cheeks warning as he yanked another shirt from a hanger. “I said.. I liked the way they smelled! Wanted to-” He broke off into more grumbling, throwing the shirt at Steve and hitting him square in the face.

He pulled it away slowly, a grin spreading across his face almost lazily. “Aww, Eds.” He let his voice drop, that reading edge curling through it as he let a sensation thread through the bond- light, almost like trailing fingertips over bare skin.

Eddie’s breath caught, the sound barely audible, and he shivered before shooting Steve a quick glare over his shoulder. “You’re playing dirty, Harrington.”

“Mm, you love it.” His tone was all mock innocence, even as his eyes followed the line of Eddie’s back and shoulders, like he was memorizing it.

Eddie snorted, trying to focus on the closet again but clearly distracted. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one lazing out on the bed while I do all the work.”

-Work?- “Mm, that’s ‘cause I’m supervising.” He said, flopping back dramatically. “Very important job. Need to make sure you’re not secretly stealing all my clothes.”

Eddie grabbed another shirt and glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Maybe I am. What’re you gonna do about it?”

He propped himself back up on his elbows, smile sharpening. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

The bond hummed warm between them, not quite enough to tip into anything more, but enough to make Eddie’s next inhale just a little shaky.

Suddenly, with the effortless grace of something that wasn’t entirely human anymore, Eddie closed the distance between them. He moved like a shadow slipping off the wall, tossing the clothes around Steve onto the bed- some deliberate, like near his pillows, some random.

Then he planted his hands on the mattress near Steve’s legs and began to climb up, slowly, like a predator cornering prey. Steve instinctively leaned back, the teasing curve of his smile faltering into something a little more breathless. By the time Eddie’s knees sank into the mattress near his thighs and his weight shifted forward, Steve had no choice but to drop flat, staring at him with wide eyes.

Eddie caged him in, hands braced on either side of Steve’s head, hair falling forward like a curtain. His gaze locked on Steve’s, sharp but.. Wanting.

“Maybe,” Eddie drawled, voice low. “I wanted to make this room smell like you again. Smell like us.” His nose wrinkled as if the thought alone irritated him. “Right now it smells like a damn department store in here. I hate it.”

He leaned a fraction closer, and Steve could feel the faint brush of breath against his cheek.

“Been smelling too many new things lately.” Eddie went on, his voice dropping to a growl. “Too many strangers, too many places, too much everything. I liked it better when it was just you. Just..” His jaw clenched, but the words still came, almost grudgingly. “...Simpler.”

Steve felt that little sting of sincerity under all the gruffness, and for a moment, the bond pulsed with something warmer than either of them wanted to name just yet. His lips twitched into a grin, even as his heart picked up a little faster. “Eds.. Are you getting all sentimental on me?”

Eddie snorted, leaning in just close enough that Steve could see the faint flecks of gold in his dark eyes. “Careful, Harrington. I’ll bite you just for saying that.”

“Yeah?” His grin widened, but there was a softness in it now. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Eddie huffed, but the tips of his ears betrayed him, flushing pink. He shifted his weight so one knee brushed against Steve’s hip, the movement slow, deliberate. “I just..” He hesitated, glancing away just a fraction for a second before finding Steve’s gaze again. “I don’t want this palace to smell like anyone else, like them or your.. So called parents. I don’t want us to get lost in all the new crap.”

His chest tightened, but he kept his tone light. “Guess that means we’re gonna have to break the bed in properly, huh?”

That earned him a crooked, dangerous little smile from Eddie. “Guess it does. Maybe the couch and your parents bed too.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The bond humming between them, carrying flickers of warmth, amusement, and something hungrier. Then Eddie finally pushed back, giving Steve room to sit up, though the air between them still felt like a stretched wire- one wrong move and it would snap.

Steve sat up slowly, still grinning, still feeling the echo of Eddie’s weight on the bed. “Alright, Munson. You got a problem with the way this place smells? Then what’s the plan, huh? You gonna light a bunch of candles? Hang air fresheners from the ceiling?”

Eddie gave him a flat look that didn’t even try to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. “No, Harrington. I’m thinking of something a little more… Natural.”

He arched a brow. “Natural.”

“Yeah.” Eddie drawled, stepping back toward the closet and grabbing a hoodie before tossing it at Steve. “We wear all your stuff. Sleep in it. Roll around on it. Toss it back in the drawers. Boom- our smell everywhere.”

Steve caught the hoodie against his chest, laughing. “You’re telling me your big plan is to infest my room with us?”

“Infest? I prefer ‘mark our territory’, thanks.” Eddie gave him that wolfish grin again, but his eyes lingered a second too long, like the idea wasn’t just a joke.

He felt his ears warm. “And what, you think I’m just gonna let you win this.. What even is this? A scent war?”

Eddie tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Oh, sweetheart… It’s already started.”

He scoffed, but the way Eddie’s voice flipped into something low made his pulse skip. “Fine. But when this room smells like me more than you can handle, you’re not allowed to complain.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Eddie’s smirk widened, and the bond pulsed between them with a flash of amusement overlaid with something sharper, hungrier. “Love the way you smell.”

He was halfway to tossing the hoodie back at him when Eddie moved- slowly to the edge of the bed, like a cat deciding to toy with its prey. He took the hoodie right out of Steve’s hand, turned it over in his fingers, and then slipped it onto Steve, gently forcing his arms to cooperate before adjusting the hood.

He frowned, but it was hard to keep it together when Eddie’s eyes flicked up, holding his own.

“Step one,” Eddie started, voice almost lazy, “you gotta live in the clothes.” He reached down, stretching the sleeves over his hands as he leaned down to bury his nose in the collar, inhaling like he’d just been handed an oxygen mask. -Fuck, Eddie.-

Steve shifted against the headboard, heat curling low in his stomach despite himself. “That’s my hoodie, man.”

“Mm. It’s ours now.” Eddie’s smirk softened at the edges, turning into something heavier, though his tone stayed teasing. He let the fabric slide off one shoulder, slowly running his hand down the front of it, slow enough that Steve’s eyes followed without permission. “Gotta make sure it smells like you and me.”

Then Eddie climbed onto the bed- not punching this time, but a slow, measured sprawl, the mattress dipping under each knee. He gently pulled the hood up over Steve’s head and tugged it down until Steve was looking up through the soft shadow of fabric.

“Step two.” Eddie murmured, leaning in close enough that Steve could see the faint gold ring in his dark eyes. “Proximity. You share space until the air stops knowing where one of us ends and the other begins.”

He swallowed hard, trying to smirk but it came out weaker than intended. “That even a real rule or did you just make that up?”

Eddie pretended to think, fingertips trailing lightly along the edge of the hood until they brushed Steve’s temple. “Made it up. Works, though.” His touch lingered, fingers skimming down to Steve’s jaw. Then he pulled back, hands reaching down to carefully pull the hoodie back up and off Steve, before tossing it across the room.

“Step three…” His voice dropped lower, eyes flicking to Steve’s mouth for half a second before snapping back up. “..You don’t rush it. You saturate the place.”

And then he leaned back like he’d just discussed something perfectly mundane, grabbing another shift from around them and tossing it over Steve’s shoulder. “So, get moving, Harrington. We’re got a lot of territory to cover.”

Steve let out a laugh, shaking his head, but his heart was beating too fast for it to sound casual. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s grin curled slow and wicked. “But now you’re thinking about it.”

He had just enough time to open his mouth to toss back some smart remark before Eddie made his next move.

The shirt that had landed over his shoulder a moment ago was suddenly whisked away, Eddie twirling it in one hand like he was about to lasso him with it. “Rule four.” Eddie drawled. “You touch everything. Rub against it, roll around in it, whatever it takes. Leave your mark.” Eddie tossed the shirt across the room.

He blinked. “We’re not cats. You cannot just-”

He didn’t get to finish, because Eddie dripped down beside him on the bed, sprawling sideways until his head was resting half on Steve’s stomach. Eddie’s curls tickled where his shirt rode up as he ground his shoulder purposefully into the blankets, rubbing like a cat scent marking furniture.

Steve tried not to laugh but it came out in a startled huff. “Eds, you’re outta your mind.”

“Mhm.” Eddie hummed against him, the sound vibrating faintly through Steve’s ribs. “And you like it.” He rolled onto his back, still half draped over Steve, eyes hooded in the dim light.

“Step five.” Eddie continued, low and lazy. “You hold onto the important things a little longer than you need to.”

His hand came up, curling around Steve’s wrist. He didn’t squeeze, just let his fingers sit there, thumb tracing the faint beat under his skin. Steve’s breath stuttered, and Eddie’s eyes flicked up, catching the reaction before he looked away again- like he hadn’t noticed.

The air felt heavier now, thicker.

“Last rule.” Eddie quietly murmured, shifting closer until their knees brushed. “You never leave the space empty.”

He was close enough now that Steve could feel the warmth of his breath when he spoke, could see the faintest twitch of a smile tugging at the corner of Eddie’s mouth- like he was daring him to do something about it.

Steve swallowed, his voice coming out lower than he meant. “And you’re planning on… Filling the space?”

Eddie’s grin widened slowly. “Guess you’ll just have to figure out.. Harrington.” He lingered there a beat too long, letting the air between them stretch and thrum, before finally pushing himself back with a sudden burst of energy, grabbing several more clothes off the bed and tossing them around the room.

The moment broke- but it didn’t disappear. It just sat there, humming under Steve’s skin, refusing to leave.

Eddie moved around the bed with exaggerated care, draping Steve’s shirt over the headboard, the chair, even the damn lampshade, like he was redecorating purely out of spite.

Steve followed him with his eyes, propped up against the headboard, every motion Eddie made was dragging like it was for show.

“You realize,” He said, voice dripping without meaning to, “this is insane.”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie turned, letting his gaze travel slowly- too slowly- from Steve’s hair, down the line of his throat, to where his shirt had bunched a little at the waist. “But effective.”

Steve’s mouth went dry. -Fuck..-

Eddie crossed the short distance back to the bed, climbing up in a way that was far too casual to be innocent. He didn’t pounce this time- he just knelt beside Steve, close enough that their thighs brushed, his hand braced on the mattress between them.

“I lied.. Rule six.” Eddie murmured, leaning in until Steve could smell the faint traces of the woods and cologne on him. “You make sure your presence sticks. That if anyone can smell like we do, they know this place is ours.”

His breath ghosted against Steve’s jaw, and for a long moment neither of them moved.

Steve’s pulse kicked up again, and Eddie must have felt it because his grin shifted- slower, lazier, like he was savoring something. Then he leaned back just enough to break eye contact, but not the proximity, fingers idly toying with the hem of Steve’s shirt.

He tried to play it cool, though his voice betrayed him. “That’s… Not a real rule.”

Eddie’s fingers brushed against his skin- just barely, just enough to make Steve’s breath catch. “It is now.”

They stayed like that for what felt like forever, the space between them thin enough to feel charged, both of them waiting to see who would give in first.

Then, with a flash of teeth, Eddie shifted away again, rolling off the bed in one fluid motion, heading back toward the closet. “Gotta finish scent-marking the place.” He called over his shoulder, voice deliberately light. “Wouldn’t want any other smells sneaking in.”

Steve let out a slow exhale he didn’t remember holding. “Jerk.” He muttered under his breath, but the corner of his mouth wouldn’t stop twitching upward. He had barely gotten his breathing under control before Eddie reappeared in his peripheral vision, emerging from the closet like he hadn’t just been torturing him for the last five minutes.

“You’re still tense.” Eddie said casually, tossing one last shirt onto the chair. “That’s no good. Messes up the whole vibe.”

He gave a flat look, but Eddie only tilted his head, stepping closer again- closer, until Steve could feel the warmth of him even though Eddie hadn’t yet touched him.

“You gonna fix it?” Steve asked, his voice a little too low to be sarcasm.

Eddie’s smile turned sharp. “Guess I’m gonna have to.” He climbed back onto the bed, slower this time, like he wanted Steve to watch his every move. His knees bracketed Steve’s hips, his hand pressed into the headboard on either side of his head. “Better?” He murmured.

Steve’s breath hitched, because Eddie was leaning in now- close enough that he could count the freckles dusting across his cheekbones, close enough to feel every word against his lips.

But Eddie didn’t kiss him.

Instead, his nose brushed along Steve’s jaw, low and languid, taking in a deep inhale like he was committing every detail to memory. Steve’s hand twitched against the blanket. He wanted- God, he wanted- but Eddie kept moving, ghosting along his cheek, hovering near his mouth for an excruciating heartbeat before drifting toward his ear.

“You smell better here.” His voice pitched low and rough. “Like yourself. Like home.”

Steve swallowed hard, unsure if it was from the words or the way Eddie’s hair brushed against his face.

Then, Eddie pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the barest smirk tugging at his lips. “What? Thought I was gonna kiss you?”

He gave a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “You’re evil.”

Eddie grinned, finally sliding back off the bed- leaving a faint chill where his warmth had been. “Nah. Just patient.” Both of his feet were barely on the floor before Steve moved.

One smooth push-up from the bed, a hand catching Eddie’s wrist, and suddenly it was him who was closing the distance.

The grin Eddie had been wearing faltered for just a second before twisting into something hungrier. “Oh? Got some fight in you after all?”

“Not fight.” He growled lowly, stepping in until Eddie’s back hit the frame of the closet. “Just tired of you acting like I’m the only one who gets flustered.”

Eddie raised a brow, but he didn’t give him the satisfaction of more words- he leaned in, slow enough to mirror the torturous pace Eddie had used earlier, letting his breath fan warm over Eddie’s jaw. Eddie went still, his hands twitching at his sides like he couldn’t decide whether to grab Steve or keep still and see what happened next.

“You smell better here too.” He said softly, purposely echoing him, but with a hint of a smile. He dipped lower, lips just brushing the side of Eddie’s throat- not quite a kiss, but close enough that Eddie’s breath caught.

“Steve…” Eddie’s voice was strained, almost a warning.

“What?” He pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, but he stayed close. Close enough to keep Eddie’s shoulders pinned where they were. “Thought I was gonna kiss you?”

For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other, the tension a taut wire between them. Then Eddie huffed a laugh, his smirk returning, though it didn’t hide the flush creeping up his neck. “Guess you can be evil too.” Eddie said, voice low.

He leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of Eddie’s ear. “Guess I can.” Then he stepped back like nothing happened, heading toward the bed with infuriating casualness. Eddie stood there for a moment, eyes narrowed, before following- like a cat ready to pounce.

Eddie didn’t just follow- he lunged. Steve barely had time to plant his hands behind him before he was knocked down to the bed. And Eddie was climbing into his space again, a knee pressing between Steve’s legs, his weight keeping him from scooting back any further. He was stuck there, propped up on his arms, staring up at Eddie.

“You think you can just wind me up and then walk away?” Eddie’s voice was low, rough, but there was that dangerous glint in his eyes- more challenge than anger.

Steve smirked, refusing to lean away. “Seems like I already did.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie breathed, bracing one hand beside Steve’s hip, the other tracing a slow path up his chest. “You have no idea what you just started.”

His breath caught- just slightly- but he kept his gaze steady. “You’re not gonna win this.”

Eddie grinned, leaning forward until their noses nearly touched. “I’m not trying to win. I’m trying to make you crack first.” His fingers grazed Steve’s collarbone, lingering just a fraction too long, then skimmed down again, letting them trail over his side.

He let the smallest smile tug at his lips, then, without warning, slid his hands up Eddie’s sides. He felt the faint shiver it caused, the way Eddie’s smirk faltered for just a second. “Oh?” He teased, his thumbs brushing slow circles just beneath Eddie’s ribs. “Thought you were the one in control.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, leaning in until his hair brushed Steve’s forehead. “I am. I’m just letting you think you’ve got a shot.”

They hovered there- breath mingling, eyes locked- each daring the other to move first.

Then Eddie, slow as molasses, let his nose brush along Steve’s jaw, barely skimming skin, until his mouth hovered near his ear. “Gonna keep pretending you’re not thinking about it?”

His answering laugh was quiet, but the tension in it was impossible to miss. “Depends. Gonna keep pretending you don’t want me to?”

And there it was- that tiny flicker in Eddie’s eyes that told him he’d scored a hit. But neither of them closed the gap. Not yet.

The air between them felt taut, like a thread stretched too tight, each heartbeat- or what passed for one- thudding through the bond.

His eyes searched Eddie’s face, looking for the tell, the moment he’d finally crack. But Eddie was stubborn, his mouth curled into that infuriating half-smile, his weight braced just enough to keep Steve pinned in place without actually holding him down.

“Still waiting.” He murmured, almost sing-song, the edge of a dare in his voice.

Eddie’s gaze flicked down to his mouth and then back up- fast enough that he might have missed it if he wasn’t watching so closely. But it was there. The slip.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” Eddie’s voice had gone huskier now, the words edged in something less playful and more hungry.

He grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “Yeah. You love it.”

That was it. That was the crack.

Eddie moved so slowly at first, it was maddening- one hand sliding from the mattress to cup the side of Steve’s jaw, thumb brushing the edge of his cheekbone in lazy circles. His other hand shifted to Steve’s hip, keeping him in place as he finally closed the space between them.

The first touch of lips was barely a kiss- more a press, testing, drawing the anticipation out until Steve thought he might actually growl in frustration. Then Eddie deepened it, slow and molten, like he had all the time in the world and wanted Steve to feel every fraction of it.

Steve’s hands curled into Eddie’s shirt, pulling him closer. Eddie’s tongue teased at the seam of his lips before slipping inside, unhurried, unrelenting, stealing whatever smartass retort Steve had been ready to make.

The kiss went on- drawn out, unbroken- until Eddie slowly, finally, pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against Steve’s. His thumb was still tracing along Steve’s jaw, grounding him.

“You smell like me again.” Eddie murmured, voice low, a little ragged. Then, with the faintest curl of a smile, “And now I smell like you.”

His laugh was quiet but warm, his grip on Eddie tightening. “Guess that means you’re not throwing my shirts at me anymore.”

“Not a chance.” Eddie smirked, leaning in for another, softer kiss.

When Eddie pulled back this time, there was a flicker- quick and sharp- across his face, gone almost before Steve could place it. Not fear, not exactly. Something quieter. Something that hurt.

Instead of retreating entirely, Eddie leaned forward until his forehead rested against Steve’s shoulder. His voice was soft enough that Steve had to strain to catch it. “Stevie, I… I think I should probably tell you..” He sucked in a quiet breath, steady but shaky around the edges.

His hands slowly moved up, rubbing slow circles between Eddie’s shoulder blades, grounding. When Eddie didn’t continue, he asked, softly. “Tell me what… Eds?”

Eddie shook his head, the movement brushing messy curls against Steve’s neck. “I.. I’ve been.. Struggling. More than I let on. It’s all just been.. It’s been a lot.”

The words cut, sharper than Steve expected. For a second, he felt something in his chest tug down, heavy and aching. Because he’d known- of course he had- but hearing Eddie admit it out loud stripped away the illusions they both had been holding onto. He’d wanted to be strong for him, the one steady thing to lean on, and it felt like he failed because Eddie still had carried so much on his own.

“Oh.. Eddie.” His voice came low, weighted. He eased back just enough, one hand sliding beneath Eddie’s chin to coax his head up. “I think we both have. And I think we’ve both been trying to keep it from each other. This.. This is the first time we’ve truly been alone since we escaped. No Doc, no cameras, no kids, not even Wayne unless we call him over. Just.. Us.”

Eddie’s eyes softened at that, his head tilting slightly, gaze dragging up to meet Steve’s. “I… All the smells have been hard on me. The sounds too, but those I can kind of push to the back, quiet them down. The smells..” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Doc, Wayne, all the smells in the bunker, the woods- it’s constant. And yeah, some of it’s easier now- Wayne, Doc, even the bunker’s smell feel familiar, safe these days. But.. There’s still so much of it and.. But you-”

His voice caught, a small sound escaping before he could stop it, more whine than word. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, as though the admission itself was almost too much. “Your smell is.. It’s calming. It’s warm, nice, it’s.. You. And it’s just-” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “It’s the only one I want to be around sometimes.”

Steve’s thumb brushed along the sharp line of Eddie’s jaw, aching at the vulnerability there. He wanted to say a thousand things, wanted to make promises he wasn’t sure either of them could keep. Instead, he said all he could, the simplest thing. “Then stay.” He said softly, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “If I’m the only thing, the only smell, you want to be around, then stay here. With me. We’ll fill the whole house with us. And only when you’re ready, we’ll let the others in. Okay?”

Eddie’s eyes cracked open, something raw and wanting swimming in them. The bond hummed low and steady between them. He didn’t answer right away- just stared, really stared, at Steve, like he was memorizing every line of his face, every little shift of his expression, like he was making sure Steve really meant it.

He stayed still under the gaze, letting Eddie take his time. The room fell quiet except for the soft hum of the fridge downstairs and the faint creak of the bed beneath them. The weight of everything they hadn’t said pressed down between them, but the bond still pulsed warm, steady, an anchor both of them needed, and neither of them could pull away from.

Then Eddie moved, slowly, closing the distance until Steve could feel the ghost of his breath against his lips. He didn’t pounce this time, didn’t make a joke.

The kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t meant to cover fear with humor. It was slow, deep, a mapping of every line of trust between them, more I’m not letting go until I’ve said everything I can without words. Steve slid a hand into Eddie’s hair, fingers curling, holding him there while Eddie’s palms settled at his hips, steadying.

The kiss stretched on, lazy and unhurried, carrying everything they couldn’t yet voice. When Eddie finally drew back, he didn’t pull away completely- just hovered, forehead brushing Steve’s. His voice was a quiet rumble, softened at the edges. “Okay.”

Steve’s laugh caught somewhere in his chest, quiet and cracked with relief. “Good.” His fingers slowly worked at smoothing through Eddie’s curls. “Guess we’re stuck with each other now.”

The grin he was met with tilted sharp, but there was a softness underneath it. “Guess so, sweetheart.” Eddie leaned in just enough for their noses to brush before finally shifting, settling beside Steve but not letting the space between them grow.

For a few breaths, they stayed that way- quiet, close, breathing in the same air. The tension teased into something gentler, something fragile but steady.

Then he tilted his head, eyeing Eddie like he was considering something important. With a mock-serious look he broke the silence. “You know..” He started, drawing it out. “You could’ve just asked me to roll around in all my.. our clothes for you instead of you trying to steal them.”

Eddie made a scandalized nose. “Steal? Steal? Harrington, you practically threw them at me the first time we met.”

“Yeah, Eds.” He countered, his mouth twitching. “Because I wanted you to smell like me.” His eyes widened slightly, like he hadn’t meant to let it slip so plainly.

Eddie arched a brow, lips curling into a grin as he leaned up on one elbow, so he could get a better look at him. “Yeah? Well, sweetheart. That’s called scent-marking. You’re welcome.”

His laugh slipped out before he could stop it, warm and easy. “God, you’re impossible.”

“Mm, yeah.” Eddie hummed, a slow grin coming to his lips, smug. “And you like it.”

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t push him away. Instead, he let his hand slide down Eddie’s arm in a way that was just casual enough to pass for innocent. “Maybe.” He said, tone almost matching Eddie’s earlier kiss- unhurried, careful, but carrying a weight beneath the tease.

Eddie’s smirk faltered for a moment, a flicker of something more real flashing before he pulled the grin back into place. “Dangerous thing to admit, Stevie.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve murmured, leaning his head back against the pillow, “I think I can handle you.”

“Oh?” Eddie shifted closer again, that teasing grin settling back in. “You sure about that?”

The question hung in the air between them, threading with challenge and promise, until Steve’s smile sharpened. “Guess you’ll have to keep testing me and find out.”

The room echoed with a quiet laugh, that low, pleased sound, and instead of answering, he stayed right where he was- close enough for Steve to feel every subtle shift, but not closing the gap completely. Like he was perfectly fine keeping the tension strung tight for as long as it would hold.

They stayed like that for a while, pressed close atop the blankets. Eddie had moved just enough to lay his head against Steve’s shoulder, the weight of him grounding, familiar. Steve let the silence stretch, only the faint sound of their breathing and the hum of the house filling it.

After a while he broke the silence again, his fingers absently carding through Eddie’s curls. “I think I’ve been trying to be a lot stronger than I feel too.” He admitted, voice softer than he meant it to be. “I haven’t been.. Entirely honest about all the nightmares and-”

He sucked in a soft breath, watching the rise and fall of his chest. “And I think we’ve been trying to force ourselves back into some kind of normal when we’re..” He trailed off, jaw working like the end of the sentence tasted bitter.

Eddie finished it for him, a rough little huff against his shoulder. “Anything but?.. We’re not normal, Steve. We’re not even human and.. Yeah, okay. Maybe we have been acting like we can be. But what else can we do?” His hand slid across Steve’s stomach, needing the touch.

He let the weight of that hang between them before answering. His voice was quiet, certain in a way that came from someplace stubborn in him. “We can talk to each other. We might not be the best at it but.. Eds.. We’re the only two people in the whole world like us. No one else is going to know us better than we do.”

Eddie tensed under him. He shifted, not enough to pull away but enough to make the space between them feel thinner, more fragile. “And what if talking isn’t enough?” His voice cracked, raw around the edges. “What if it’s too much? What if one day I can’t… Hold it together, and you’re the one paying the price?”

His hand stilled in Eddie’s hair, then started moving again, slow and steady. His chest ached with the weight of the question, with the way Eddie’s voice sounded like it had been worn thin by it. “Then we figure it out.” He said, steady, even though the heaviness pulled at him. “We figure it out like we always do. Eds, if we’ve got each other, we can get through anything. That’s the only thing I actually believe these days.”

He let his blunt nails scratch gently at Eddie’s scalp. “And we utilize the bond. Especially if talking isn’t enough. We show each other, we let the other feel. Whatever it is, we can do it. We promised, didn't we? I’ve got you, and you’ve got me. Me and you, you and me. Always.”

Eddie shut his eyes, breathing uneven against Steve’s shoulder. He wanted to believe it. God, he wanted to. But the words clung to him like smoke, too slippery to hold on to. “You make it sound so simple.” He whispered.

“It is simple.” He tipped his head against Eddie’s, a sigh leaving him. “But not easy. Never easy. But.. It is simple.” He let his thumb brush slow circles into Eddie’s arm. “We’re here. Together. And that’s enough for me.”

Eddie stayed quiet for a long stretch, his fingers curling tighter in the fabric of Steve’s shirt like he was afraid it might vanish if he let go. His throat worked, but no words came, only a shaky breath that sounded a little like surrender, a little like gratitude.

Steve pressed a faint kiss into his curls, lingering there. “You don’t have to believe it right now.” He murmured. “You just have to stay. The rest will come.”

For the first time in a long time, Eddie didn’t argue. He just stayed, quiet and heavy against Steve’s side, letting himself be held like maybe that would be enough. And it had to be, for now at least.

For another long while they didn’t move. The only sounds were the low creak of the house settling, the faint steady rhythm of his hand running up and down Eddie’s back, and the tick of the clock that he watched next to his bed, the minutes slowly trickling toward midnight.

Eddie’s breathing stayed uneven, shaky exhales brushing against Steve’s shirt, dampening the cotton just enough that Steve noticed. He didn’t say anything about it- didn’t dare- but the knowledge sat heavy in his chest.

“I don’t want to lose this.” Eddie whispered at last, voice hoarse, like the words had clawed their way out of him. “Don’t want to lose you. Don’t want to ruin any of it just because I can’t.. Stop my head from spinning half the time.”

He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening in Eddie’s hair before smoothing them down again. “You. Will. Never. Lose me.” He hissed out between clenched teeth, voice steady, but he felt the tremor in his own chest, the truth of how scared he was of the same thing. “Not for that. Not for anything.”

Eddie gave a small, broken laugh that caught halfway through and turned into a sound closer to a choke. “You say it like it’s that easy.”

Steve didn’t answer right away, letting the silence stretch again. He wanted Eddie to feel the weight of what he meant, not just hear it. Finally, he said, low and certain. “Yeah. Because it is that easy for me. You- me. That’s the part that's solid. That’s the part I don’t doubt. I told you already, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes for you to believe it.”

Eddie pressed his face harder against his shoulder, as though trying to bury himself there, to believe through proximity what his brain wouldn’t let him accept. “Wish I had your brain.” He muttered, voice muffled. “Would make everything a hell of a lot easier.”

He let out a slow exhale, threading his fingers back through Eddie’s curls. “No.. You really don’t. My brain’s a mess, Eds. Half the time I only know things are real because of the little post-its Doc put up around the halls. Or.. Or because you can feel when I freak out.”

Steve let his lips brush the top of his head, lingering there like he could will his certainty into Eddie through sheer contact. “But that’s just it. When I freak out you’re there for me. And I’ll always be here for you when you do too. Promise.”

The conversation came to a halt again, and they stayed like that, wrapped in the silence again, the room heavy with the kind of truths neither of them could take back now. He felt the press of Eddie’s words hanging between them- sharp, aching, real- and instead of trying to fill the silence too quickly, he let it hold them both. He knew Eddie needed that just as much as he needed reassurance.

Only when he felt Eddie’s grip finally loosen on his shirt- just a little, like the edge of panic had started to fade- did he let the faintest smile tug at his lips. His chest still hurt with it all, but he leaned his head down, nudging against Eddie’s temple gently.

“Y’know.” He murmured, voice softer now. “For someone who’s terrified of ruining things, you’re doing a really lousy job of it.”

Eddie huffed, a sound that was closer to a laugh now but still caught somewhere in his chest. He tilted his head just enough to glare up at Steve, though his eyes were too tired, too raw, for it to land properly. “A lousy job, huh?”

“Mmhm.” Steve shifted slightly, careful not to break the closeness. His hand slid down Eddie’s back, slow and steady. “You’re supposed to be driving me crazy, remember? Loud and annoying and- what was it? Oh yeah- ‘metal incarnate’ A real freak of nature. But instead you’re here making me sound like some… Like a sap.”

That earned him a tiny, reluctant smile, tugging at the corner of Eddie’s lips. “You already sounded like one, Harrington. Didn’t need my help for that.”

“Yeah.. But you make it worse.” He shot back, dipping his head just enough that his nose brushed against Eddie’s hair again. He lingered there, letting the silence stretch again but this time it felt lighter, easier. “And, honestly? I kinda like it. Having you ruin me like this.”

Eddie groaned softly, pushing his forehead against Steve’s shoulder again to hide the flush creeping up his cheeks. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe.” He admitted, a little grin tugging at his lips. His hand found Eddie’s again where it rested against his stomach, fingers threading carefully. “But you’re still here. Means I’m doing something right.”

Eddie let the words settle into him, heavy but not crushing this time. His fingers tightened around Steve’s, and after a long pause, he whispered. “Means we both are.”

He pressed another kiss against Eddie’s curls. “Exactly.” He squeezed their hands lightly. “So quit worrying about ruining it. We’re already kind of a mess, Eds. But we’re our mess.”

The smile that finally broke across Eddie’s face was small, tired, but real. He let himself breathe into Steve’s shoulder, soaking in the warmth, the steady certainty that Steve offered like it was the most natural thing in the world. Letting their scents wash over him.

The quiet held for some time, Eddie sinking deeper into the steady weight of Steve’s arms, Steve carding his fingers lazily through Eddie’s curls. The longer it went on, the less the heaviness pressed down on them- it stretched thin, softened, until all that was left was warmth and the quiet hum of being together.

He brushed his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles again, the smallest smile playing at his lips. “You know,” he started softly, “if someone had told me years ago, before I ever heard of a demogorgon, that I’d be spending nights like this, holding you instead of trying to figure out what the hell to do with my life…” He trailed off, huffing a little laugh. “Guess I would’ve thought they were insane.”

Eddie’s lips curved faintly. “Insane, huh? I dunno, Harrington. I think you’ve always had a thing for lost causes.”

“Yeah? Then what does that say about you?” He teased, pressing his cheek against Eddie’s hair.

Eddie snorted, a little more strength in it this time. “Puh-lease. You were a lost cause. You just didn’t know it.”

Steve chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling low in his chest. “Oh? You got a thing for lost causes too then? Mm guess that makes us even.”

That was enough- just the two of them wrapped around each other. Eddie’s hand had stopped its nervous jerky movements, resting steady on Steve’s chest now, fingers still tangled. Steve let himself breathe it in, let the closeness wash over him until the tension in his shoulders finally eased.

But then Eddie shifted, tilting his head to glance up, dark eyes catching Steve’s with a spark that hadn’t been there before. “You’re staring.” He muttered.

“Mm. Can’t help it.” He admitted, the words shameless, teasing. “You’re in my bed. Kinda hard to look anywhere else.”

Eddie made a dramatic groan and shoved weakly at Steve’s chest. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.” Steve shot back with a grin, only tightening his arm around Eddie so he couldn’t actually roll away.

Eddie fought back a laugh, the sound bubbling up despite himself. “Okay, maybe I do.” He conceded, shaking his head. “God, don’t let it go to your head though.” -...Does he mean-?..-

He smirked, already leaning down to murmur near Eddie’s ear. “Too late.”

A sharp, breathless laugh escaped Eddie before he was finally able to wriggle free. He pushed himself upright slowly, stretching long and wide with a groan that filled the quiet room. His spine popped audibly as he arched, arms reaching high above his head. His shirt tugged up in the movement, flashing just enough of the line of hair trailing down his stomach to make Steve’s eyes lock there without him even realizing it.

By the time Eddie dropped his arms back down, shaking them out with another satisfied noise, Steve was still staring.

Eddie caught it instantly, one brow arching as he smirked. “See somethin’ you like, Stevie?”

Steve blinked, heat creeping into his cheeks before he huffed a little laugh, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You started it.” Eddie grinned, then softened as he looked around the room again, a thoughtful expression flickering across his face. “As nice as this was..” He let the words hang, his tone softer, but carrying that restless edge. “I’ve never actually seen the famed Harrington Mansion before. Kinda feels like a crime not to explore.”

Steve studied him for a beat, then gave him a small, almost fond smile as he sat up too, brushing his hair back. “Yeah. Alright.” He said gently. “We can do that.”

Eddie’s grin widened as he pushed himself off the bed, snagging one of Steve’s discarded shirts from earlier off the floor. He changed out of his own, tugging it over his head, the faded ‘Hawkins Swim’ stretching across his chest. The sight pulled a slow, lazy smile from Steve, a familiar warmth curling in his chest at the image of Eddie- messy curls, sharp grin, and his shirt on him like it belonged there. There was just something about seeing Eddie in his clothes.

Not to be outdone, he leaned forward, grabbing Eddie’s discarded shirt. He peeled off his own, tugging it on with a deliberate slowness. Catching the look Eddie gave him, he narrowed his eyes. “Hush… Not a word.”

Eddie didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. He mimed zipping his lips, though the smug smile tugging at his lips said plenty. His gaze raked over Steve, slowly, and he felt the heat rise in his neck at the look.

“C’mon.” He walked across the room, holding out his hand. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

“Oh, ho, ho.” Eddie’s grin turned wicked as he grabbed Steve’s hand, yanking him forward until their chests bumped. He kissed him- soft, gentle, meaningful- before peeling away just as slowly, leaving Steve blinking after him. “Don’t mind if I do, my good sir. Please.” With an exaggerated flourish, he swung his arm out wide. “Lead the way, my liege.”

Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile as he tugged Eddie out of the room. “Ignore the shitty artwork and terrible decor. I plan on taking it all down anyway.”

“Ah yes.” Eddie intoned, mock-serious as they passed a garish gold and red fruit painting. “Only the most golden of chariots for you, my liege.”

He shook his head, muttering under his breath but not quite hiding his laugh. “I hated most of it growing up. Still do.” His tone shifted softer as they moved farther down the hall. He gestured vaguely toward the end, skipping the closed doors in between. “Down here.. This is.. Was.. My parents’ room.”

He stopped, his feet dragging just shy of the door. His hand in Eddie’s stilled, and for a beat Steve just stared at the brass knob like it was a test he wasn’t sure he wanted to take. His voice was quieter when he finally spoke again. “I haven’t gone in there since.. Probably since I was about five.”

Eddie noticed the way his shoulders tightened, the sudden weight in his posture. Without making it heavy, he gave Steve’s hand a firmer squeeze and tugged him gently forward. His voice was soft but sure when he said. “Well, sweetheart.. It’s your house now. Whatever’s in there is yours. So..” He tilted his head, curls brushing his jaw as his grin softened. “Shall we?”

He hesitated in front of the door, his hand tightening around Eddie’s almost unconsciously. For a moment, he didn’t move, his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the knob like it might bite him if he touched it.

Eddie tilted his head, studying him. The bravado from a second ago softened, replaced with something steadier. He gave Steve’s hand another squeeze. “Hey. You don’t have to. We can skip it.”

He let out a quiet laugh through his nose, more puff of breath than anything. “Nah. You’re right. This is my house. Just..” He trailed off, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to shake the weight off. “Feels like opening that door is gonna make me five again, y’know?”

Eddie’s expression gentled further, thumb brushing across Steve’s knuckles. “You won't be five, sweetheart. You’ll be you. You and me both, standing here, opening it together. They aren’t here. They can’t make you feel small anymore.”

For a second, Steve just looked at him- really looked, like he was taking in the way Eddie’s curls framed his face, the way his expression could cut through every defense without even trying. Then he nodded, swallowed, and reached out to turn the knob.

The door creaked open, revealing a room that looked frozen in amber. The air smelled faintly of mothballs and something powdery, floral- his mom’s perfume, maybe, lingering in the heavy curtains. Everything was pristine, untouched, but it felt lifeless.

He didn’t bother to turn on a light, but his nose did wrinkle at the assaulting smells. He stood stiff in the doorway, and Eddie didn’t push him forward. He just shifted closer, shoulder brushing his, keeping him grounded. “Weird, huh?” Eddie murmured.

He huffed out a breath, part laugh, part sigh. “Weird doesn’t even cover it. It’s like they’re about to walk back in and yell at me for being in here.” His jaw tightened, and for a moment his eyes flicked across the room, not quite landing anywhere. “I used to think this place was huge. Like a castle. Now it just feels… Empty.”

Eddie let him stand in it, just long enough for the silence to settle. Then, gentle, he bumped Steve’s shoulder with his own. “Well, castles are overrated anyway. Big and drafty and filled with paintings of dead people staring at you while you’re trying to eat.”

He let out a surprised laugh, his eyes flicking sideways at Eddie. “You’re an ass.”

“Guilty.” Eddie grinned, shameless, before sobering just enough to add, “But if this is your castle, then I’m happy to be your court jester. Keep the king from getting too mopey.”

Steve shook his head, but there was no hiding the way his lips curved, or the warmth in his eyes as he looked back at him.

Eddie swung their joined hands a little before tugging him gently out of the doorway. “Alright, my liege. Enough ghosts and shitty perfume. Show me the fun stuff. Secret passageways? Dungeon full of skeletons? Giant library where you spent all your time polishing your hair in the reflection of the bookcases?”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Shut up. No skeletons but.. There is a wine cellar.”

Eddie’s brows shot up. “Now we’re talkin’. Bet we can get you drunk off your royal ass.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how vampires work, Eds.”

Eddie gasped dramatically. “You wound me, my lord. What’s the point in eternal life if we can’t even get a little tipsy?"

Steve laughed again, the sound freer this time, and tugged him down the hall. Their hands stayed linked as they moved from room to room, Eddie’s running commentary filling the silence with teasing jabs and outlandish jokes. But between the laughter, there were those small moments- Steve brushing his thumb against the back of Eddie’s hand, Eddie leaning into him a little too long at every doorway, their eyes catching and holding for beats that stretched just long enough to make Steve’s chest tighten.

By the time they reached the staircase, Eddie glanced back over his shoulder with a wicked grin. “Race you to the bottom, Harrington.”

Steve arched a brow, already smirking. “Oh, you’re so on.”

Eddie took off first with a triumphant whoop, his socks sliding on the polished wood as he barreled down the steps. Steve followed close behind. Eddie nearly lost his balance on the last step, clutching the banister with a laugh before darting into the kitchen.

Steve was right on his heels, lunging around the island counter to cut him off. Eddie skidded to the opposite side, both of them circling like predators sizing each other up, grins splitting their faces.

“Oh, this is how it’s gonna be?” Eddie taunted, eyes flashing.

“Damn right it is.” He shot back, feinting left before darting right. He slipped past Eddie with a burst of speed, his laugh ringing through the kitchen as he threw open the door to the basement stairs.

Eddie was half a step behind, so focused on catching him that when he lunged for the doorway, he smacked shoulder-first into the wall beside the stairs with a loud thud. “Shit!” He barked out a laugh, clutching his shoulder as Steve disappeared below. “Dirty move, Harrington!”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he vaulted himself up onto the dryer, crouching there like a smug cat, waiting. He pressed his palm to his mouth, trying- and failing- to smother his grin as Eddie’s footsteps thundered down the stairs.

When Eddie finally appeared at the bottom, curls a mess, chest heaving, face a manic grin, Steve was already perched with a big, cocky smile plastered across his face.

“‘Bout time.” He teased, leaning casually back on his hands, legs swinging lightly over the edge of the dryer. “Thought you were supposed to be fast now, Munson.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, a low chuckle spilling out as he started forward in a slow, careful stalk, curls bouncing with each exaggerated step. “Oh, you think you’re real clever, huh? Sitting up there like the king of the laundry room.”

He only shrugged, feigning innocence, though his smile gave him away. “Just stating facts. You. Lost.”

“Mm, see, I don’t remember it that way.” Eddie’s voice dropped into a playful growl as he reached the dryer, hands suddenly darting out to grab Steve’s ankles. Before he could react, Eddie yanked him forward to the very edge, the dryer rattling beneath them with the force.

He let out a startled laugh, hands dropping to the edge for balance, but it was cut off when Eddie leaned in hands slowly traveling up to his thighs. Their mouths crashed together in a deep, searing kiss that stole the breath he wasn’t even taking in, away.

Eddie’s grip on his thighs was firm, almost possessive, keeping him pinned right where he wanted him. When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just above Steve’s, his chest heaving with mock ferocity as a low growl slipped free. “Dirty, cheat.”

His grin was wide, his eyes shining as he leaned forward, chasing Eddie for another kiss. “Yeah,” he murmured against his mouth, “but you love it.”

He went to continue but suddenly Eddie surged forward again, rougher this time. His laugh melted into a muffled sound of surprise as Eddie’s lips claimed his, all heat and hunger. His hands shot up, burying themselves in Eddie’s curls, tugging him closer.

Eddie growled low into his mouth, the sound rumbling between them, and let just the edge of a fang scrape against Steve’s lower lip. It sent a shiver racing down his spine- equal parts tease and threat- and he gasped into his mouth, clutching tighter at his hair.

Then Eddie pressed forward, all elbows and curls and wild need, pushing Steve down against the cool metal surface, nearly crawling on top of him in his eagerness. Their bodies slotted together in messy desperation, the scrape of denim, the sound of muffled groans, the way their hands wandered- gripping, pulling, clutching like they couldn’t get close enough. The basement echoed faintly with the heat of it, the dryer beneath them rattling with every shift.

When Eddie finally broke the kiss, he dragged it out, slowly, lingering, licking over Steve’s swollen lips with a wicked smirk. His eyes gleamed with triumph as he murmured against his mouth, voice rough and teasing. “You’re a far greater treasure than any wine cellar, my liege.”

He huffed out a laugh, even as his chest fluttered with warmth. He gave Eddie’s curls a gentle, playful tug, rolling his eyes. “God, you’re such a sap.”

Eddie chuckled softly, a grin splitting across his lips even as he leaned back in to steal another kiss, hot and consuming. “You love it.” He muttered against his mouth, the words half-swallowed in the heat between them.

He tugged sharply at his curls in retaliation, earning another growl that vibrated against his lips. “Maybe,” he teased, biting back another smirk, “but don’t let it go to your head, Munson.”

“Oh, sweetheart, like I said, it’s already there.” Eddie pressed closed, practically sprawling on top of him now, his rings cold against Steve’s waist as his hands slipped beneath the hem of his borrowed shirt. He kissed him hard, messy, and unrestrained, before breaking away just far enough to continue. “My liege, my treasure, my-”

“-giant paint in my ass.” Steve cut in, tugging his hair again, breathless but grinning.

Eddie barked out a laugh that he cut short as he crashed their mouths back together, fangs just grazing, careful but dangerous enough to make Steve’s stomach flip. His hips pressed Steve further into the dryer, the metal creaking beneath them, and the sound drew another low chuckle from Eddie. “You hear that? Even your appliances bow before me.”

Steve snorted against his lips, the sound breaking into a groan when Eddie’s teeth caught his bottom lip again. “You’re ridiculous.” He mumbled, trying to sound exasperated, but the way his fingers scratched lightly at Eddie’s scalp betrayed him.

“Mm. Ridiculously into you.” Eddie smirked against his mouth, stealing another kiss, hands roaming with a possessive edge.

He laughed, the sound muffled as it was swallowed down, but his grin lingered between kisses, sharp and sweet. “Sap.”

“Your sap.” Eddie corrected smugly, kissing him again, deeper, like he could prove it with every press of his mouth. He didn’t give Steve a chance to retort again. He surged forward, crushing their mouths together, tongue sweeping past Steve’s lips with a rough insistence.

Steve met him halfway, answering with just as much force, dragging him down by the back of his neck until Eddie was practically bent on to him, their chests pressed tight. The kiss was messy, hungry, their mouths moving like they were trying to devour each other- tongues sliding, teeth clashing, little sounds spilling between them that only pushed it further.

He let out a muffled groan as Eddie’s fangs grazed over his lower lip again, just enough to sting before Eddie soothed it with a slow drag of his tongue. His claws came out to gently scratch at Eddie’s scalp, using his curls to pull him back, scootch them up the dryer, then yank him down again, forcing another searing kiss that had Eddie laughing into his mouth.

“Fuck-” Eddie growled, lips dragging hotly down to the curve of his jaw, before scraping his fangs there. His hands roaming greedily under the thin cotton of Steve’s borrowed shirt, calloused fingers tracing over ribs and stomach before gripping his waist, thumbs pressing in like he was going to leave bruises, if he wanted.

He arched into it with a hiss, breath catching as Eddie pressed him harder into the cold metal. Every movement punctuated by the scrape of denim against denim, the creak of their weight, a groan escaping them both. His hands slipped from Eddie’s hair to cup his jaw, claws gently scraping as he guided him back up. Forcing another kiss- this one deeper- their tongues tangling, sliding, Eddie sucking at his bottom lip until Steve’s groan vibrated against his mouth.

When Eddie pulled back it was only far enough to lick slowly over his lips, savoring the taste of them with a smirk. His voice was rough as he ran a hand over Steve’s ribs. “Think we might break the dryer if we keep this up.”

He let out a soft huff, smiling as he ran his now clawless fingers slowly over Eddie’s jaw. “Mm not sure I care really. With all the money I have now I can buy another.” He let his fingers dance across his chin.

Eddie only grinned wider, leaning back in until their foreheads touched, lips still brushing as he whispered. “Well then it’s a good thing I didn’t plan on moving.”

He barely had time to breathe before Eddie was on him again, mouth hot and insistent, kisses breaking apart only to crash back together harder, wetter. His head tipped back hitting the wall now, a low sound rumbling in his throat as Eddie kissed him like he was trying to consume him whole.

Claws now pricked lightly at his waist, teasing, threatening, before Eddie finally dragged back up, fabric bunching as sharp tips traced along his ribs. Steve shuddered under the touch, a whine tearing from his throat, hands fisting in Eddie’s curls again as he pulled him in even closer, hips jerking instinctively when Eddie pressed down against him.

“Fuck, Stevie.” Eddie groaned into his mouth, grinding slow and deliberate, letting Steve feel every hard line of him. “You make the best fucking noises.”

He gasped, nails scraping down and across Eddie’s shoulders as he pulled him tighter, as if Eddie dared to move an inch away, he’d shatter. His lips parted under Eddie’s tongue, letting him in for another sloppy kiss, their mouths sliding together with an obscene sound that only made him whine louder.

Eddie caught the sound eagerly, sucking at his bottom lip before scraping a fang over it again, this time with more pressure. The sting made Steve’s hips buck up, pressing flush against Eddie’s, a helpful groan spilling into the kiss. Eddie swallowed it down greedily, his laugh dark and rough as he pressed him back against the dryer.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Eddie rasped, licking into his mouth again, rolling his hips harder, setting a rhythm that made the metal beneath them groan in protest. “Such pretty noises for me sweetheart.”

His answer was a strangled moan, thighs parting just enough to let Eddie slot in closer, dragging another sharp gasp out of him. His hands clutched to Eddie’s back, desperate for more, his body arching into every drag of claws over his skin, every press of fang against his lips or throat.

“You love it.” Eddie groaned against his ear, voice rough with want, nipping at the shell before sucking at the tender spot just below. “God, you’ve such a pretty voice sweetheart. Love lettin’ me hear you, don’t you?”

Steve let out a wrecked laugh, cut off by another groan as Eddie rolled into him again, hard and slow. “I just-” his breath hitched when Eddie’s teeth grazed down his throat, “-I just love being close to you.”

Eddie stilled for just a beat, forehead pressed to Steve’s, chest heaving. Then his grin broke through again, feral and fond all at once. “Then hold on, Harrington.” He growled, claws digging in just enough to make Steve gasp. “‘Cause I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

And he sealed the promise with another searing kiss, hips snapping forward, pulling the desperate sound he adores right out of Steve’s throat.

The dryer rattled beneath them with every grind of their hips, the metal groaning like it couldn’t take the weight of the two of them tangled together. Steve clutched at Eddie like he was drowning, pulling him back into kiss after kiss, messy and open, every drag of tongue and teeth making his head spin. Eddie’s cool claws teased down his sides, a sharp contrast to the hot press of his mouth. And he couldn’t stop the low, helpless whines that kept spilling out of him.

Eddie was eating them up, every noise, every twitch of Steve’s body under his, groaning into his mouth as if it was feeding something deep inside him. He rolled his hips in a hard grind that made Steve gasp, his head falling back against the wall with another dull thud.

“Fuck.” Steve groaned, frustration and heat mingling in his chest. His eyes burned into Eddie’s, wild and desperate, before he suddenly grabbed two fistfuls of the borrowed shirt Eddie was wearing. Instead of pulling him back in for another kiss, he gave a sharp tug and a sound that was half snarl, half groan. He yanked- tearing the fabric apart, it giving way until Eddie was left bare-chested, the two shreds of cotton hanging uselessly from his arms.

Eddie’s loud groan echoed in the basement, head tipping back, fangs flashing as he laughed breathlessly. “Jesus, Harrington-”

Steve cut him off with another kiss, rougher, hungrier, teeth clashing before it melted into something hot and wet again. His hands slid over Eddie’s now-bared chest, nails dragging down his skin, making him shudder.

Eddie growled low in his throat, shoving Steve harder against the dryer, nearly climbing onto his lap as his claws dug possessively into Steve’s hips. The sound of their jeans grinding, mixed with gasps and groans and the smack of their lips filled the space. When Eddie finally tore his mouth away, his voice was wrecked now, low and reverent. “God, you’re fucking perfect.”

Then he was on him again, pressing harder, hungrier. His lips dragged hot and wet along Steve’s jaw before he pulled back just enough to let a sharp smirk curl over his lips. With a deliberate slowness, he lifted his hand, index finger held between them as he let his claw extend. Steve’s breath hitched, chest rising sharply as Eddie lowered it to the fabric stretched tight over him.

“Hold still, pretty boy.” Eddie murmured, voice thick and teasing. Then, with one smooth drag, the claw sliced straight down Steve’s borrowed shirt. The cotton gave way with a barely there rip, falling open in jagged lines to reveal skin and the thick patch of chest hair beneath.

Steve groaned, the sound low and helpless, as Eddie tore the fabric wider, peeling it off his arms with a hunger that matched the heat in his eyes. He tossed it aside carelessly, and for a moment just let his fingers roam, combing through the dark hair on Steve’s chest, curling over a nipple until he twitched beneath the touch. Then, just as slowly, he let the claw retract back to nothing. His palm flattened, sliding down over the ridges of Steve’s stomach, following the trail of heat below.

Their mouths met again, messy and biting, before Eddie pulled back just enough to speak, lips still brushing Steve’s. His grin was wicked, but his eyes were burning with something softer underneath. “You tell me to stop at any point, Stevie, and I swear I will.”

His lips parted, but before he could answer, Eddie’s hand snapped lower, popping open his jeans with a violent tug. The button shot across the basement floor, clattering somewhere into the dark, and his breath left him in a startled gasp.

Eddie growled low in his chest, shoving his hand inside without hesitation. His palm met bare, hot skin, and he let out a ragged groan that vibrated against Steve’s mouth. He pulled him into a soft kiss then- a stark contrast to the frantic hunger of the last few minutes- slow and reverent, lips molding against Steve’s like he was trying to savor him.

When he finally broke the kiss, his voice was guttural, almost breaking. “No underwear, sweetheart?” He moaned, his thumb brushing carefully over the thick skin he found there.

He barely had time to groan in response before Eddie wrapped his hand firmly around him, stroking once, slow and deliberate. The sound it tore from Steve was caught instantly as Eddie surged back in, stealing it in another searing kiss. Their mouths clashed, tongues tangling, Steve gasping into it as Eddie’s hand worked him in rough, hungry strokes.

His hips bucked helplessly, pressing into Eddie’s hand, the sensation blurring into the heat of their kiss, the scrape of teeth, the rumble of Eddie’s groan vibrating straight into his chest.

Eddie didn’t break the kiss when he slipped his hand free, his other hand trailing down Steve’s stomach as he caught the waistband of his jeans with both hands. In one fluid tug, he shoved them down just enough to free what he wanted. The hot, heavy length of Steve’s cock slapped against his stomach, and the groan it pulled from Steve rattled straight into Eddie’s mouth.

His lips parted on a moan, hips twitching upward instinctively, but Eddie was already wrapping his hand back around him. He tightened his grip at the base before sliding up with maddening slowness, circling the tip with his thumb.

He gasped, mouth falling open against Eddie’s, and Eddie took full advantage- drinking down the noise as his thumb swiped through the wetness already gathering there. He pulled back just enough to drag his thumb to his own lips, holding Steve’s dazed gaze as he slid it into his mouth. His tongue curled around the digit, sucking it clean with an obscene noise.

“Fuck.” He groaned, the sound wrecked and needy.

Eddie grinned against his thumb as he slowly pulled it back, then surged forward, sealing his mouth back over Steve’s in a kiss that was all teeth, tongue, and heat. He kissed him back desperately, shoving himself closer, his hands fisting in Eddie’s hair. The kiss turned sloppy, groans and wet sounds filling the basement as Eddie's hand returned to his cock.

He didn’t let up as he began kissing lower, trailing his mouth along Steve’s jaw, and down the side of his neck. He tilted his head back without thought, baring his neck, panting openly. Eddie scraped his fangs lightly over the exposed skin, just enough to tease, and he shuddered, a sharp moan spilling out.

Eddie’s strokes stayed slow, measured, his hand twisting just a little at the top before sliding down again. Steve’s hips tried to jerk into it, chasing more, but Eddie’s free hand pressed firmly to his hip, effectively pinning him down against the cool metal of the dryer.

When Eddie reached the column of his throat, he paused just long enough to spit into his palm, slicking his hand before wrapping it back around Steve’s cock. This time his movements turned rough, his strokes hard and fast, the sound of it wet and obscene in the quiet basement.

Steve nearly sobbed out a moan, head thunking back against the wall, every sound tearing out of him raw and unrestrained. His hips tried to buck wildly, but Eddie’s hand stayed unyielding on him, holding him pinned in place, forcing him to take the pace Eddie set.

Then, Eddie’s mouth was back on him- sucking bruises into the sensitive skin of his neck, dragging blunt teeth hard enough to leave marks that would last. His fangs occasionally came back out, scraping carefully, threatening, but never breaking skin, making Steve whine and clutch at him harder. He bit down on the slope of Steve’s shoulder with blunt teeth suddenly, just hard enough to draw out a loud, shocked gasp. And all the while his hand was ruthless, stroking him in hard, fast pulls that made Steve shake with the effort of holding himself together.

Every groan, every loud, uncontrollable sound Steve made, Eddie dragged it out of him with practiced cruelty, his smirk pressed against his throat as he murmured, “That’s it, sweetheart.” He felt it before Steve even realized it- his whole body tensing, cock throbbing hot and hard in his fist, the rhythm of his moans breaking apart into something higher, needier. His grin turned feral against Steve’s neck.

“Ah, ah.” Eddie murmured, and at the very moment Steve’s body strained toward release, he clamped his hand tight around the base of his cock. The sharp, strangled groan that ripped out of Steve made Eddie shudder, his fangs grazing over the slick skin of his throat.

He whined, breath stuttering, hips jerking uselessly against Eddie’s hold. But Eddie just purred, mouthing kisses and bites along his jaw, dragging his lips back down to the curve of his shoulder.

“Not yet, sweetheart. You sound too good to end it so soon.” He punctuated the words with a slow drag of his tongue over the fresh mark he’d just made.

His chest heaved, arms tightening in Eddie’s curls, tugging at him with something frantic. But Eddie only smirked, and slowly loosened his grip enough to stroke him again- hard, fast, maddening- and then tightened at the base once more just as his whole body arched, right on the brink.

The noise he made was desperate, a broken gasp that caught in his throat. Eddie groaned into it, grinding his own hard clothed cock against Steve’s thigh, dragging the friction with needy precision.

“Fuck, you’re perfect like this.” Eddie rasped, his voice rough with arousal. “All wrecked, just for me.” He pressed open-mouthed kisses over Steve’s collarbone, nipping lightly before sucking another bruise into the skin. “My beautiful boy. My treasure.”

Every time Steve got close, every time his body shook with the effort of holding on, Eddie stopped him, squeezing hard at the base until the pleasure burned too hot to crest. He kept Steve riding that unbearable edge, stroke after stroke, denial after denial, until Steve was panting above him, tears of frustration brimming in his eyes.

Eddie reveled in it- grinding harder against Steve’s thigh, leaving bites and bruises down the slope of his shoulder, over his chest. And his praises never stopped, murmured into the marks between kisses: “So good for me. So sweet. God, I love the sounds you make. You’re mine, Stevie, mine.”

His hips twisted helplessly under Eddie’s hold, every muscle taut, every sound ripped raw from him. His voice cracked when he finally choked out, “Eddie- please, please-”

Eddie pulled back just enough to see him, his pupils blown wide, lips kiss-swollen, chest heaving. He leaned back up and kissed him softly, devastatingly tender against the chaos of it, before biting lightly at his lower lip.

“Begging so sweetly.” Eddie purred, his thumb stroking idly over the damp, flushed head of Steve’s cock. “Say it again, sweetheart. Say it pretty for me.”

His whole body shook with restraint, his jaw clenching, eyes flashing molten as he tried to glare through the haze Eddie had pulled him into. His voice came out gravelly, broken between ragged breaths.

“Screw.. You.” He growled, the words carrying more desperation than venom.

Eddie froze for half a heartbeat- then his grin split sharp and wicked, dangerous in its delight. “Oh, sweetheart.” He purred, voice low, vibrating with hunger. “Bad choice.”

The warning didn’t even finish leaving his mouth before his fist tightened around Steve’s cock, dragging up in a rough merciless stroke that made Steve scream. His back bowed off the dryer, shoulders slamming against the wall before his hips jerked down violently, trying to find purchase, trying to fuck into Eddie’s fist.

And then- just as his body sized, release surging at the edges- Eddie’s grip tightened brutally at the base of his cock, caging the climax back. He nearly sobbed with the force of it, a strangled, cracked sound bursting from his throat.

Eddie leaned in, catching Steve’s ear, tugging at the lobe with blunt teeth before growling deep and low into his ear, dark and dangerous. “Real bad idea, sweetheart.”

His hand moved again- fast, ruthless, stroking Steve with a punishing pace only to crush him down again, keeping him dangling above that edge, body twitching, eyes rolling back, moans turning into raw cries. Steve’s thighs trembled, his hips straining against Eddie’s other hand where it held him pinned back down with supernatural strength.

Eddie was relentless, grinding his cock- still trapped in soaked denim- against Steve’s thigh in frantic, hungry thrusts, his rhythm syncing with the merciless strokes of his hand. He was wrecking himself against Steve just as thoroughly, groaning harshly against the shell of Steve’s ear every time he denied him.

Steve was gone, undone, voice shattering apart as he finally broke, begging sweetly through gasps. “Please- Eddie, please, I can’t- fuck, I need it, I need you. Please. Please!”

That was all it took. Eddie’s hips snapped faster, grinding hard, sharp thrusts against Steve’s thigh as he pulled his hand back quickly, spitting into it again, slicking his palm before wrapping it tight back around Steve’s cock. This time he didn’t stop, didn’t hold back- he pumped fast, hard, furiously, chasing both of their undoings.

Steve cried out loudly, the sound breaking, his head thudding back against the wall as his body gave in all at once. Hot, thick streaks painted over Eddie’s fist, splattering his own thighs, even streaking his stomach as his hips bucked as wildly as they could. His moans tore out of him raw and unrestrained, echoing loudly off the basement walls.

Eddie broke right there with him- biting down hard on Steve’s shoulder with blunt teeth, his hips jerking helplessly as his cock flooded his jeans. The release was so intense it soaked straight through the denim, obscene wetness spreading across the front, pushing past the zipper until it dripped. He groaned against Steve’s skin, voice shaking, guttural, as his hips bucked and ground through every spasm, soaking himself further.

They finished together in a mess of sound and movement- Steve’s body shuddering violently, cum spilling in ropes across Eddie’s hand and his own stomach, while Eddie’s release drenched his pants, soaking Steve’s thigh in the process.

By the time the last shivers rolled through them, Eddie was still holding Steve down, panting against his neck, his lips sticky with sweat, kisses, and a hint of blood. His grin feral but softened by the tremble in it.

“You’re… Fuck-” Eddie huffed, still catching unneeded breath. “You’re gonna kill me, Stevie.”

Steve was still trembling faintly, chest heaving, hair plastered to his forehead now when he finally let out a rough, breathless laugh. His head lolled toward Eddie, lips pulling into something wry and wrecked at once.

“Already went over this,” he rasped, voice shredded but sure. “We’re already dead.”

Eddie’s chuckle rumbled low in his chest, soft but electric against Steve’s raw nerves. He gave Steve’s cock a few slow, gentle tugs, milking out the last weak spurts, the touch tender after all that punishing pace. Steve hissed through his teeth but didn’t stop him, twitching under the attention.

Then Eddie dragged in a deep, shaky breath- and groaned. His hips rolled almost on instinct, still pressed against Steve, his soaked jeans clinging obscenely. “Christ.” He muttered, voice weighted with something more than hunger now. “Finally. All I can smell is us.”

Steve drew in a long, deliberate breath of his own. And the smile that spread across his lips was lazy, sated, almost boyish as he hummed softly in response. “Good.”

For a while, it was just that- quiet, humming breaths in the aftermath, heat and messy, sticking them together. Then, slowly, Steve’s hand drifted down between them. His fingers came away sticky, slick, coated in thick milky white. Without much thought, he lifted them to his mouth and sucked them clean, lashes lowering as he groaned at the taste.

Eddie’s head tipped back with a low laugh, eyes crinkling fondly. “You’re ridiculous, sweetheart.” He muttered, rolling his eyes in that way that wasn’t dismissive, but warm. He shifted upright onto his elbows, his own hand still glistening, and lifted it to his mouth. With a deliberate slowness, he sucked his fingers clean, tongue sliding between them, eyes half-lidded and fixed on Steve.

Steve froze- breath stuttering, every muscle locking as he stared, transfixed. The lazy rhythm of his chest stilled completely, like even the instinct to mimic life couldn’t compete with the sight in front of him.

Eddie caught the pause instantly, attuned to Steve’s breathing now. A smirk pulled at his lips, playful, smug in the way only he could be. With a wet pop, his fingers freed. He let his head fall back, groaning at the state of his jeans- front soaked through, clinging heavy and cold now.

“Goddamn mess.” He muttered with mock annoyance, rolling his eyes again before flopping back dramatically onto the dryer beside Steve. One arm sprawling out over the washing machine, his curls fanned wild, his chest rising and falling with satisfied exhaustion.

The feral edge ebbed into something gentler. Sticky, messy, but soft. He shifted, tugging at Eddie until their shoulders brushed, their thighs pressed together. Eddie hummed low, turning his head to press a lazy kiss into Steve’s temple.

Aftercare came not in words at first, but in little gestures- the smoothing of Eddie’s hand over Steve’s chest hair, the way Steve’s thumb idly traced circles against Eddie’s wrist. They sat in their own wreckage and didn’t care, breathing the smell of sweat and cum and each other like it was oxygen.

And when he tilted his head to press his mouth to Eddie’s jaw, it wasn’t hungry anymore. Just… Tender.

The basement was quiet again- quiet except for the hum of the fridge above, the soft creak of cooling pipes in the walls, the creak of the metal below them. Both of them were wrecked, shirts shredded, jeans sticking, their skin tacky where it pressed together.

He shifted first, dragging in a deep, steadying breath as he let his head thunk back against Eddie’s shoulder. “Jesus Christ.” He muttered, voice shot and low. “You’re a menace.”

“Mm.” Eddie hummed like it was a compliment, his lips brushing the crown of Steve’s head. “Pretty sure you screamed my name, sweetheart. Twice. That’s not menace. That’s talent.”

He huffed, a weak laugh spilling out as he tilted his head to glance down at Eddie’s lap. The ruined jeans were dark, soaked through, sticking obscenely. He couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. “You’re the one who’s gonna have to explain to Doc why you need new jeans again. Good luck with that.”

Eddie groaned, lifting his head enough to look at himself before rolling his eyes and letting it fall back dramatically. “Yeah… I’d rather hand clean all my clothes. I’ll just borrow a pair of your pants and throw these in the wash.”

He snorted and reached down, swiping a finger through the cooling mess streaked over his own stomach. He lifted it, slowly, making sure Eddie was watching, and licked it clean again- this time keeping his eyes locked on Eddie’s.

Eddie groaned low, hand flopping over his face lazily, to cover his eyes. “You’re really trying to kill me.. Again. Unbelievable."

He only laughed softly, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to Eddie’s cheek, sticky fingers sliding lazily against his jaw. He was warm in a way only Eddie ever managed to make him feel- heavy and grounded even through the mess.

Eddie’s arm curled tighter around him, pulling him in until their chests brushed, their foreheads bumped. He pressed a lazy, tender kiss to Steve’s mouth, nothing like the earlier frenzy. Just soft. Patient. Loving.

For a while, they just stayed there. Eddie traced idle patterns in Steve’s chest hair, and Steve smoothed his hand over Eddie’s ribs, both of them content to breathe in the smell of sweat, sex, and them clinging to the air.

Eventually, Steve let out a soft chuckle, eyes sliding shut. “You ever think about how stupid this is? Us. Down here. On a dryer. Like teenagers sneaking around.”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s smile pressed into his temple. “And I wouldn’t trade it for a damn thing.”

That got Steve quiet. Just quiet enough that Eddie could feel the little hum of agreement through the bond when Steve leaned in closer, tucking his face against Eddie’s shoulder, finally letting his body go loose.

Eddie tilted his head, pressed another soft kiss into Steve’s hair, and closed his eyes. The mess could wait. For now, this was all that mattered.

But, eventually, Eddie pushed himself upright with a groan, peeling away from Steve just enough to glance at the wreck of their clothes. His ruined shirt was half hanging from one arm, the fabric shredded open beyond saving. With a resigned shake of his head, he pulled it the rest of the way off, wadded it up, and started wiping Steve down- careful, slow, like every pass of his hand was some kind of apology for how frantic he’d been minutes ago.

He huffed a weak laugh, eyes half-lidded, letting his head roll back against the dryer. “You’re domestic as hell, Munson.”

“Shut it.” Eddie instinctively replied, but there was no heat in it. His smile betrayed him anyway. When he was satisfied Steve wasn’t completely a sticky disaster, he tossed the ragged shirt aside, slipped an arm under Steve’s knees, and another around his shoulders, scooping him up in one smooth motion as he got off the dryer.

He made a sleepy sound, nuzzling into Eddie’s neck. “M’fine, y’know. Can walk.”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie snorted, adjusting his grip. “And I’m the Queen of England. The tour will have to wait, sweetheart. We need a shower before we glue ourselves together permanently.”

The climb up the stairs had Eddie groaning quietly, mostly from the wet cling of his ruined jeans. “Christ,” he muttered under his breath. “Worth it. Definitely worth it.”

Steve, eyes drifting shut again, just hummed sleepily against his throat.

Through the kitchen, across the living room, up the next flight of stairs, Eddie carried him like he weighed nothing. When they reached the bedroom, Eddie nudged the door open with his hip, then passed straight into the ensuite. He set Steve down gently on the closed toilet, crouching a little to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Sit tight, Harrington. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”

He blinked up at him with a lazy smile, too warm, too soft. “Bossy.”

“Damn right.” But he was already moving out of the bathroom. He grabbed a couple pairs of sleepy pants, and two old sweatshirts from what was left in his drawers- soft, faded things- and set them on the sink. Then he was back, flicking the shower on and helping Steve to his feet.

The shower wasn’t exactly chaste- hands wandered, lips met, water ran hot enough to fog up the mirrors. But they kept it lazy this time, slow kisses, gentle touches, small laughs when Eddie complained about Steve hogging the hot water and Steve told him to suck it up.

By the time they were rinsed clean, wrapped in soft sweats, and stumbling toward the bed, Steve was half-asleep again. Eddie tugged the blankets up, sliding in beside him. He told himself he wasn’t going to fuss. Not his style. Except- he found himself tucking the blanket around Steve, smoothing still damp hair back from his forehead, even pulling a pillow down lower so his neck wouldn’t cramp.

Steve cracked one eye open, catching him in the act, and grinned faintly. “You’re fussing again.”

“Nope. Never done that before.” Eddie said quickly, already trying to roll onto his back.

But Steve hooked a hand into his sweatshirt and tugged him close, slotting their bodies together. “Yeah, you are. Don’t care. Like it.”

Eddie sighed dramatically, but his arm wound tight around Steve’s waist anyway, pulling him flush. Steve sighed happily, the sound vibrating low in his chest, and buried his face against Eddie’s collar.

Eddie felt his heart stutter in that stupid way it always did for him, and pressed his lips to Steve’s damp hair. Slowly, Steve’s breathing evened out against his chest, and Eddie let himself finally relax, tangled up together, the world outside their room forgotten.

---

Eddie woke first. The house was still, only the faint hum of pipes and the far off creak of settling wood breaking the silence. He shifted slightly, careful not to jostle the body curled against him, and glanced down.

Steve’s hair was still damp and now wild across the pillow, his lips parted as he breathed slow and even, his lashes casting delicate shadows on his cheeks. He looked.. Peaceful in a way Eddie wasn’t sure he’d ever seen. Like for once, the weight he always carried had slipped away.

Eddie let himself watch- just watch- for a few minutes. Tracing the slope of Steve’s nose, the faint and dark bruises on his neck he’d put there, the steady rise and fall of his chest. He memorized it, like he was afraid it’d vanish the second he blinked. Eventually, he tucked his face gently into Steve’s hair, stealing another breath of him, and closed his eyes again.

---

The sun had risen higher by the time Steve stirred. A groan left him as a shaft of light cut past the curtains, landing right across his face. He flopped a hand over his eyes, blinking sluggishly, reaching out blindly to the other side of the bed-

Empty.

His eyes snapped open, his chest seizing with an almost feral panic until-

A hum. Low, warm, familiar. Floating up from downstairs.

He exhaled hard, pressing a hand over his heart until it slowed back to its inhuman beat, and sat up. He dragged himself out of bed, bare feet soft against the floor, and padded toward the stairs.

The kitchen met him with the smell of batter and butter, and the sound of Eddie’s voice, half-singing half-humming Master of Puppets under his breath. He was moving around the stove in nothing but his sweatpants, hair tied up into a bun, hips swaying shamelessly as he flipped a pancake.

He leaned against the doorway and just.. Watched. The smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it.

He cleared his throat.

Eddie jumped so hard he nearly sent the spatula flying, spinning around with wild eyes. “Jesus Christ, Harrington! Warn a guy before you sneak up on him. You trying to give me a second death?”

His grin widened, unrepentant. “What’re you doing?”

Eddie dragged a hand across his face, trying to play it cool, but his ears burned red. “Uh. Breakfast. Called Wayne earlier, asked if he could drop some stuff off. He swung by before you woke up- loaded us up with groceries.”

He tilted his head, sniffing the air gently. Sure enough, Wayne’s scent lingered faintly in the kitchen, like he’d only been here for mere moments.

Eddie caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes and shrugged, softer this time. “Told him we’d like a little time alone. Promised we’d call him soon. Asked him to run interference with the kids if they start blowing up the phone, and to inform Doc.”

His chest ached with something warm. He crossed the kitchen in a few short strides, sliding his arms around Eddie from behind. Pressing his cheek to Eddie’s bare back, he breathed him in, slow and steady.

“Thank you.” He murmured, voice still gravelly with sleep.

Eddie stilled for a second, then relaxed into the hold, his free hand settling over Steve’s wrist, thumb brushing lazy circles against his skin. “Don’t thank me, sweetheart. Just eat your pancakes when they’re ready.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, nuzzling closer, unwilling to let go. He slowly eased over toward the stools, still holding onto Eddie from behind just long enough to make him squirm. Eddie rolled his eyes, though the curve of his lips betrayed a grin, before finally tugging himself free- just enough to get back to work.

“Alright, alright. Settle down.” Eddie muttered, shaking his head but letting Steve hover back at his side. “I’ll make breakfast, but you’re not trying to steal any bites before they’re served.”

“Me? Steal your pancakes?” He feigned offense, resting his chin on Eddie’s shoulder as he leaned against him. “Never.”

Eddie scoffed, flipping a pancake with dramatic flair. “Uh-huh. That’s what all the guilty ones say.”

The kitchen smelled warm and buttery, pancakes sizzling in the pan, and Eddie moved with a sort of casual rhythm that made Steve’s chest tighten. He kept close, stealing glances at him as Eddie hummed along to Master of Puppets, hips swaying just slightly as he reached for a stack of plates.

When the pancakes were done, Eddie moved to divide them onto the plates, but paused. He turned with a sly grin. “Oh, and of course, can’t forget the good stuff.” From one of the cabinets, he pulled two mugs. He moved to the fridge and pulled out a container of blood, moving with ease as he filled them and popped them into the microwave.

“You found those pretty easy.. Snooping through my cabinets, Munson?”

Eddie smiled softly, before it quickly morphed into a shocked innocence. His hand flying dramatically to his chest. “Me? Why I never! I just happen to know where you keep your most valuable of cups.”

He shook head, smiling, turning to walk back over to the stools and take his seat, waiting for Eddie to serve him. “Mhm. Sure.”

Before the beep could sound Eddie pulled the microwave open, pulling two steaming mugs out. One landed in front of him, the other setting in front of the stool next to him. Eddie moved back to the stove to dish out the pancakes. He smiled as he watched him, bringing the mug up to take a careful sip.

“Mm. Delicious. Classic, Harrington approval.” He murmured, warmth filling him both from the liquid and the bond.

Eddie chuckled, leaning against the island opposite Steve as he reached over to set the plates down. “Of course. Can’t have you starting the day with anything less than perfection.”

He reached across the island, brushing his fingers against Eddie’s hand, and Eddie didn’t pull away. “You really enjoy spoiling me, huh?”

“Maybe a little.” Eddie admitted with a grin, letting his fingers briefly tangle with Steve’s. “Maybe a lot.”

Eddie walked around the island, taking his seat next to Steve. They ate between laughter, spilling out in between sips and quiet teasing. Steve stole a pancake when Eddie wasn’t looking, and Eddie growled dramatically, snatching it back when exaggerated indignation.

“Hey! That’s mine, you dirty cheat!”

He just smirked, taking another but. “Yeah, but I’m also yours.. So we’re even.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but the edge of his grin was soft, warm. He leaned over to press a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

He laughed softly, curling a hand around Eddie’s wrist. “Not sure anyone besides you has ever called me cute before.”

Eddie just shook his head, smirking, but his eyes were gentle as he glanced at Steve. “That’s a damn shame sweetheart. Because you’re real cute. Especially when you get all sleepy.”

The morning light poured through the kitchen windows, catching the steam rising from the mugs, the golden brown of the pancakes, the warm glow in Eddie’s eyes. And for a while, they simply sat together, hands brushing, shoulders touching, sipping blood and sharing pancakes, content in the quiet chaos of just being.. Them.

After breakfast, Steve laced their fingers together as they left the kitchen, his thumb tracing lazy movements over Eddie’s knuckles. Eddie didn’t comment, just squeezed back every so often, grounding him in a way he didn’t realize he’d needed.

“So,” he said, cleaning his throat, “obviously you’ve found the kitchen.” His lips quirked up, but there was a subtle self-consciousness in his tone that Eddie caught instantly.

Eddie grinned, swinging their jointed hands between them. “Yeah, five stars, would recommend. Sous chef was a little snarky, though.”

That earned him a soft laugh, and Steve tugged him along into the living room. The space was pristine, almost sterile, the kind of room that screamed “look, don’t touch”. He stood there for a moment, gaze darting over the sharp furniture lines, the marble side tables, before his eyes landed on a framed portrait above the fireplace.

His jaw tightened. “God, I hated this room.” He muttered, the words spilling out without polish. He lifted a hand toward the image, a younger version of himself standing stiff between his sitting mother and standing father. “See that?” He gestured toward his fathers hand on his shoulder, resting just a little too firmly. “His grip was so tight it left bruises. Perfect fingered indents that lasted a long while.”

Eddie’s chest tightened, his first instinct was to pull Steve close, to cover those long-healed marks with his own hands and his own warmth. Instead, he squeezed Steve’s hand again, thumb brushing a slow reassurance. Steve noticed, and his shoulders eased- just slightly.

“Honestly,” he continued, motioning vaguely around the room, “I hated pretty much everything in here. Whole place felt.. Cold.” His voice dipped, quieter, before he tugged Eddie toward the hallway.

They stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, the only one closed on the main floor. He stared at it a moment too long, his hand tightening around Eddie’s. The brief flicker of fear in his eyes was undeniable, but then his jaw clenched, his chin lifting with stubborn defiance.

Without another word, he twisted the handle.

It didn’t budge. Locked.

He exhaled sharply though his nose, annoyed. Narrowing his eyes, he tightened his grip on the handle and twisted, forcing the knob to turn with a flex of strength. The metal gave with a crack, and the door swung inward.

He pushed it open, lips pulling into a wry smile. “Now, it’s no grand library but..” He stepped aside, gesturing Eddie in.

Inside, the room was lined wall to wall with shelves, packed tight with books. Dust floated in thin beams of sunlight that managed to slip through the curtains, the air heavy with old paper and wood polish.

He stood in the doorway, staring into the space like he was looking at something much larger than just a room. “...Yeah.” He finally murmured. “This is it..” His hand hovered over the doorframe for a second, as if touching it might burn. His voice was low, almost muttering, like the words themselves had teeth. “I was never allowed in here. Not once.”

Eddie turned, brows knitting, but Steve wasn’t looking at him- he was staring straight into the room, eyes dark and sharp in a way that made Eddie’s chest ache.

Then his hand tightened around Eddie’s and he tugged him forward, striding inside with a force that made the air shift. The scent of dust and leather hit Eddie’s nose as Steve led him toward the massive desk that took up the middle of the space. Without hesitation, he hopped up onto the polished wood, bare feet knocking lightly against it as his legs dangled.

He tugged Eddie closer until their bodies brushed, his thighs spreading just enough to pull Eddie in. His hands slipped up, slowly, over and around his bare shoulders. His voice came again, rougher this time, riding on a low growl of defiance. “I was never allowed in here. But this is my house now.”

Eddie barely got a breath in before Steve’s mouth was on his.

The kiss was deep and claiming, searing with a heat Eddie hadn’t expected after the softness of earlier. Steve tilted his head, tongue sliding against Eddie’s with quiet precision, pulling him deeper and deeper until Eddie had no choice but to grip his hips tight, fingers digging in like anchors. The faint taste of copper lingered on their lips, rich and heady, blending with the faint sweetness of syrup from earlier. He kissed like he was making up for every time he’d been told “no”, every door slammed in his face.

When he finally pulled back, breath coming in soft bursts against Eddie’s lips, there was a flash of a smirk curving his lips. His eyes gleamed with something dangerous and thrilling as he whispered, “It’s my office now. And I can do as I damn well please.”

Eddie’s chest tightened again, but this time it was pride swelling hot in his ribs. He wanted to say it- that he was in love with him, that he’d follow him through fire, through eternity, through every locked door. But instead, he just let it hum between them through the bond, a wordless thrum of devotion and pride.

Steve felt it- Eddie could see it in the flicker of his lashes, the slight tremor in the hand still gripping Eddie’s shoulder. Neither of them spoke it aloud, but the weight of it hung in the air, thick and undeniable, wrapping around them like something eternal.

Eddie grinned then, slow and wicked, letting his hands slide up Steve’s thighs. “Gotta say, Harrington,” he murmured, voice low, “you wear rebellion really, really well.” He kissed Steve once more, slow this time, before pulling back enough to rest their foreheads together.

Neither of them spoke- there wasn’t a need to. The air in the office still hummed with the weight of Steve’s defiance, with the raw, unspoken claim they both had on one another.

Finally, Steve slowly slid off the desk, feet landing with a barely audible thud against the wood. His hand found Eddie’s without hesitation, fingers lacing tight, and with a little tug he led them out of the office. The door creaked as it closed behind them, but Steve didn’t look back.

He kept talking as they walked through the halls, his tone drifting somewhere between sharp and sarcasm and that quiet, brutal honestly Eddie was learning was rare for him. He gestured vaguely at a floor to ceiling hallway mirror with its gilded frame and said flatly, “My mom’s disgusting taste. She thought gold leaf was subtle. Guess she thought the whole house should look like Versailles threw up in here.”

Eddie snorted under his breath, muttering something about “rich people horror show”, which earned him a faint smirk from Steve as they kept moving.

Room by room, Steve pointed things out, little memories that sounded more like scars than stories. But every time his voice dipped too dark, Eddie squeezed his hand- like an anchor keeping him tethered.

When they reached the door to the basement again, he paused, but instead of twisting it open he just shook his head. “Not now. I’ll show you the wine cellar another time.” His jaw tightened briefly before he pulled Eddie back toward the front of the house. “You’ve seen enough of the skeletons for now.”

Eddie didn’t push. He just squeezed Steve’s hand back, letting him steer.

Eventually, the two of them ended up in the living room, sunlight filtering through gauzy curtains in long, golden beams that pooled across the floor. The air felt warmer here now, softer- less haunted by the walls themselves. Steve tugged Eddie down onto the couch with him, immediately curling in close until his head was pillowed on Eddie’s bare chest. The barely there thrum of Eddie’s heartbeat filled his ear.

For a long time, they didn’t speak. They just lay there, tangled together, comfortable. His fingers absently tracing the familiar Hellfire logo against Eddie’s ribs, Eddie’s hand combing slowly through Steve’s hair. The morning stretched and softened, sliding easily into early afternoon, the light in the room shifting with it.

Every so often one of them whispered something- a muttered joke, a half-sleepy comment, a little confession too quiet to carry beyond the space between their mouths. It was all low, intimate, sealed inside the warmth of the moment.

The house didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore. Not with the two of them pressed together like this, breathing in sync, letting the sunlight gild their edges.

The sun had crawled higher by the time Eddie finally spoke again. His voice was low, lazy from comfort but edged with curiosity. “So, Harrington…” His thumb stroked over Steve’s collarbone, following the ridge of bone idly. “What do you want to do now? Y’know.. With our lives.”

He went still. Eddie felt it immediately- the way his body tensed under the question, his breath hitching just enough to betray him. For a beat, Eddie almost regretted asking. But then Steve let out a long, quiet sigh, his head sinking heavier against Eddie’s chest, like he was forcing himself not to run from the answer.

“I was thinking.. About it this morning.” He quietly admitted, voice rough and a little hesitant. “Over breakfast.”

Eddie hummed softly, encouraging, and kept combing his fingers through Steve’s hair. He found a small knot at the nape of his neck and worked at it carefully, patient, like he had all the time in the world. Steve made a faint noise at the attention half content, half distracted.

After a pause, Steve spoke again, even quieter now. “I think… We should let the suits put out another cover story. Y’know, about why we’ve been missing, how we’re back now. Even if we’re not ready to actually be around people yet. It’s.. Safer that way.”

Eddie’s brows lifted slightly. He didn’t say anything right away, just worked through the tangle in Steve’s hair until it gave way smooth under his fingers. Then he exhaled a thoughtful hum. “Yeah,” he murmured, “makes sense. Let people stop whispering, wondering. But…” His hand stilled for a moment before resuming, slower this time. “What does that mean for us? Like.. Would that lab know? Would Brenner know we’re here?”

Steve’s whole body went taut again, like every muscle was ready to snap. Eddie didn’t need to see his face to feel the fear flash through him- it was in the way his breath stopped, the faint tremor that worked its way into his shoulders.

“Hey, hey..” Eddie was quick, moving instinctively. He bent his head and pressed a kiss into Steve’s hair, firm but tender, lingering there as he whispered against him. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Nothing’s touching you here, Stevie. Not while I’m undead.”

Steve’s claws slipped free with a soft, involuntary sound- Eddie could feel the faint prick against his side. They flexed once, retreated, then came out again. The rhythm of it matched his own quiet breaths as Steve wrestled for control.

Eddie just held him tighter, voice a steady stream of low, calming words. “Easy. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Nobody’s dragging you back there, not while I’m here. You hear me? I’ll always keep you safe Stevie.”

It took a while- long minutes filled only with sunlight shifting across the room and the sound of Eddie’s heart under Steve’s ear- but slowly, Steve’s body began to unclench. His claws slipped back one last time, then retracted for good, leaving only the faint press of nails against Eddie’s side.

Finally, in a voice so small Eddie almost missed it, he whispered, “I don’t- I don’t know how. I forgot about that. About.. About him. And now I’m not sure anymore.”

Eddie closed his eyes, kissed the crown of his head again, and whispered back, “Then we don’t have to decide right now. We can ask. See if there’ll be protection for us- real protection. If not, we’ll figure something else out. Together. Always together sweetheart.”

He let out a shuddering breath, his fingers curling next to his face before spreading to feel the beat of Eddie’s heart under his palm. After another long pause, he gave the tiniest nod against Eddie’s chest.

Eddie felt it, smiled faintly, and went back to threading his fingers through Steve’s hair- slow, careful, grounding. The air between them softened again, slowly, the heavy weight of fear lifting inch by inch until all that remained was the warmth of their bodies pressed close and the quiet promise of together.

---

They’d stayed in a quiet comfort for two more days. Dancing around each other with soft touches and quiet kisses as they just pretended only the two of them existed. It was easy to let the rest of the world fall away when their bond hummed steady and sweet between them, when every small brush of fingers or press of lips was enough to remind them they weren’t alone anymore. But all good things had to shift eventually, even if they didn’t necessarily end.

Right now, Eddie was sitting with his back to the arm of the couch, one leg bent up while the other stretched out, quietly poking Steve’s side with his toes, because he had to be touching him somehow. Always touching, always reaching.

Steve was hanging off the couch upside down, hair brushing the floor, his hands resting loosely over his stomach. The phone lay balanced against his chest, speaker crackling with Dustin’s voice as they both listened to the kid ramble. Glad for their sharp hearing, picking up every word even when Dustin wandered away from the receiver, his voice muffled and distant as if he was pacing around his room.

They’d allowed just him to call today, willing to slowly let some normalcy trickle back in. So no one began to worry.

“And it’s ridiculous, you know?! We’ve only just started summer vacation- our last summer vacation- and no one wants to do anything!”

He glanced over at Eddie, a smile tugging faintly at his lips as he pushed a thought through the bond, warm and teasing. -Kids insane. One second he’s asking about our immune systems and the next he’s complaining. We didn’t even get to answer.-

Eddie’s grin tugged sharp and slow, his reply rolling back just as quick. ‘And his tone! Kid’s insufferable sometimes.. Was he always like this?’

-Oh yeah. Not always such a shithead but.. He’s always been a brat.-

Eddie’s grin widened, stretching his leg to jab his toes harder into Steve’s side. His thoughts cutting sharper this time. ‘Yeah but he’s your brat isn’t he? Your kid?’

-Shut up.- He made a low noise in his throat and turned away. But the bond betrayed him, heat crawling up his neck, creeping over his cheeks.

Eddie chuckled, satisfied.

“Are you two even listening?” Dustin’s voice suddenly cut sharp, dragging them back to the present.

“..Huh?” He blinked, disoriented, realizing he hadn’t actually heard the last thing Dustin said. Had he asked a question?

“Jesus, Steve, I asked if you two are coming back for a visit anytime soon.”

“Oh I um-..” He trailed off, heartbeat stuttering faintly in his chest.

Eddie cut in smoothly, voice pitched just loud enough for the phone to catch. “We’re not in the mood right now kid. Just.. Need some time right now. You know how it is, too much too soon, loud noises and all that.” He tried for levity, but then his tone shifted, quieter, more honest. “I um.. I got a bit overwhelmed, kid. I’ve been mostly smelling a sterile lab since I came back. So just.. Give us some time.”

There was a pause. Then Dustin’s voice came softer, regretful. “Oh..” his tone changed again, no longer annoyed. Guilt edging in. “I didn’t mean.. I’m sorry no, no you’re right. I didn’t mean to push or.. Sorry.”

Eddie huffed, moving across the couch until he was sitting next to Steve, his legs dangling next to Steve’s head. His hand reached out instinctively, finding Steve’s hip, just resting there. “Not your fault, kid. Don’t worry about it just.. Trying to adjust is all. Let the rest of the scooby gang know we’re alright and we’re not gonna hide away forever.” He reached over, letting his hand rest gently over Steve’s hip. “And make sure Red knows we’ll still keep our promise and let everyone know if anything’s wrong.”

“Oh yeah. Take your time guys, we’ll be around.” Dustin made a soft noise of agreement before continuing. “I will. And uh.. Thanks, you know.. For calling me.”

“No problem, Dusty-Buns.” Steve smiled, eyes fluttering shut. His hand reaching out, fingers wiggling until Eddie’s hand found his. Dustin groaned at the name, whispering something unintelligible, before they all said their quiet goodbyes. Eddie reaching over to place the phone back in the receiver.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

“Mmm.” He hummed letting one of his eyes crack open to stare up at Eddie. “Mm’Good. Just.. Comfortable. Glad we called ‘im. Felt nice.”

“Yeah?” Eddie let his fingers dance up Steve’s hand and around his wrist, brushing lazily over his pulse.. “Thought so too. Was nice to just hear someone complain about mundane crap… Like seeing you so content.”

He gave a small, sleepy smile, letting his eyes fall shut again, slowly he shifted around until his back was back on the couch, laying his head on Eddie’s lap, feet hanging off the edge of the couch. His whole body softened at once, every line of tension unspooling like it had just been waiting for this contact. “Like just being here with you. Hearing the kid was nice too. No pressure, just..”

“Nice?” Eddie finished for him, chuckling softly as he leaned down to press a kiss to Steve’s forehead. He lingered, savoring the feel of Steve’s cool skin, before straightening back up, letting his fingers gently card through Steve’s hair.

“Mhm. Nice…” His hand drifted up to rest lightly against Eddie’s stomach. He hesitated, voice low, whispering. “Eds?”

“Yeah?”

He sucked in a quiet inhale, held it, then let out a shaky exhale, as if bracing himself. “I think.. I think we should ask Owens, about our cover story. About protection.. All of it.”

The bond rippled with Steve’s unease- sharp, restless currents that Eddie immediately smoothed with his own steady warmth. His fingers tightened gently in Steve’s hair, tugging in reassurance. “Alright… I’ll admit it worries me but.. You said he was very careful about how he handled everything before and.. Well.. If anything happens.. We can always hide away in the bunker, fight back, whatever it takes, right?” Eddie tried to joke at the end, to lighten the mood, but it fell flat.

He slowly cracked his eyes open, looking up at Eddie, squinting against the light filtering in through the curtains.“Yeah he was and.. I think it’ll be alright. I’m just.. I’m still worried about it. But I think it’s the right thing to do and.. Yeah. If anything happens we can hide in the bunker.” He managed a small, fragile smile, lifting his hand higher until he caught Eddie’s other hand, bringing it to his chest. Holding it tight.

For a moment, Eddie didn’t answer- he just sent the memory of his own resolve through the bond: the image of taking down one of the guards in the lab. An image of Steve, breathing heavily in the stairwell, both of them covered in blood. An image of Steve panting heavily in the training room, a bright smile on his face as his chest heaved.

He knew he was still projecting through the bond too, but he didn’t have enough energy to care. He knew Eddie could feel the truth of it- the fear still curling sharp and bitter in his gut, but the resolve too, the stubborn thread of defiance that hadn’t dimmed since he’d pushed open his father’s office. But after the images flashed past him, he squeezed Eddie’s hand harder, the bond slowly turning to hum with gratitude and adoration, wordless but heavy.

Eddie pressed his palm firmer against Steve’s chest, over the slow, unnatural thud of his heart, and let his own reassurance bleed through the bond in return: steady warmth, fierce devotion, the promise of always.

His breath hitched as the weight of Eddie’s emotions settled into him. He closed his eyes again, leaning into it, letting the warmth replace the fear bit by bit. His hand tightened on Eddie’s as he murmured, almost too soft to hear, “Together, right?”

Eddie leaned down, almost folding in half, his lips brushing against Steve’s temple, voice low and certain. “Always together, sweetheart.”

The house was quiet enough to lull them both in a half-sleep, Steve stretched across Eddie’s lap with fingers lazily tracing his scalp. Neither moved until sometime in the mid-afternoon, when the ache of hunger stirred both of them at once. Their stomach grumbling loud enough to make him crack one eye open, and Eddie barked a laugh.

“Guess that’s our cue, sweetheart.” Eddie murmured, giving his hair a playful tug before helping him sit up.

In the kitchen, the light had shifted, pouring in between the curtains of the large sliding windows. He pulled out bread and cheese, falling into the familiar rhythm of making grilled cheese like it was muscle memory.

“You know,” he started, voice quiet. “I was debating making grilled cheese or blood that night.. I don’t remember which one I did.” The butter hissed against the pan, filling the air with a rich, comforting smell.

At the same time, Eddie tugged a small pot from the cupboard, filling it with blood from the fridge before setting it on the back burner. The scent was metallic, faintly sweet as it warmed, twining oddly well with the smell of crisping bread. “The night they came for you?”

“Mhm.” He answered, flipping the sandwiches with ease.

“Is that.. A new memory?” Eddie asked hesitantly, the bond blooming with unease.

“No.” He angled just slightly to meet his eyes, flashing a reassuring smile before he turned back to the stove. “Just thought I’d bring it up. It’s not… Doesn’t mean anything. Just wanted to let you know.”

“Oh.. Thank you.” Eddie leaned over, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek before leaning back to stir the blood.

By the time the first sandwiches were done, they were both back to laughing at the ridiculous contrast- one plate stacked with golden, buttery halves and two mugs streaming with scarlet

“Fine dining at Casa de Freak.” Eddie quipped, pressing his shoulder into Steve’s as they leaned together against the counter.

He snorted around a bite of grilled cheese, trying not to grin like an idiot. “Shut up. It’s perfect.” He reached out blindly, hip nudging into Eddie’s as he set down the spatula.

They ate slowly, trading bites, Steve licking melted cheese off his thumb while Eddie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand after sipping from his mug. Always leaning into each other, shoulders brushing with every laugh. It wasn’t elegant, wasn’t the ‘refined’ or ‘proper’ decorum his mother insisted on. But it didn’t need to be. Not with them. Never with them. Because this, this was perfect for them.

Cleanup was wordless, a practiced sort of teamwork: Eddie rolled his sleeves and dunked dishes in hot water while Steve stood close beside him, towel in hand, drying plate after plate after pot. Their movements overlapped and collided just enough to be funny- Steve bumping Eddie’s hip when he got in the way, Eddie flicking water at Steve’s arm just to watch him glare.

By the time they were stacking the last clean plate, Eddie let the dishwater run down the drain with a gurgle and slipped in behind Steve. His arms wrapped easily around his waist, tugging him back until his spine pressed into Eddie’s chest. Eddie hooked his chin over Steve’s shoulder, swaying them side to side in slow, lazy arcs across the kitchen floor.

For a moment, he just let himself melt against it, his hands resting over Eddie’s forearms where they banded across his stomach. The light shifted further, painting the wall in a soft amber, and the world outside felt impossibly far away. Eddie hummed low in his throat, content, the vibration brushing against Steve’s back.

They carried that quiet into the living room, still touching as they moved, like breaking contact for even a second wasn’t worth it. Eddie sank onto the couch first, sprawling in his usual ungraceful sprawl, and Steve folded easily into the curve of him. Eddie’s arm came around his shoulder, and he tucked himself close, their legs tangling over the cushions.

The silence was comfortable- heavy, steady, not the kind that pressed down but the kind that left them feeling warm.

His thumb rubbed absent circles over the inside of Eddie’s wrist, where it hung loosely over his shoulder, his breath came slow, steady, almost meditative. He stayed quiet long enough that Eddie thought he’d slipped under again into that sort of half-sleep, until Steve’s voice finally broke the stillness, quiet and almost sheepish.

“...I think you look hot covered in blood.”

Eddie blinked down at him, caught off-guard before a low, surprised laugh rumbled in his chest. He bent down, brushing his lips against the crown of Steve’s head. “Jesus, sweetheart.” His voice was warm, amused, a little rough with affection. “You know you could’ve kept that one to yourself.”

He huffed a laugh too, not lifting his head, just pressing closer into Eddie’s side like the admission hadn’t embarrassed him at all. “Mm coulda. But I thought you should know… Always tellin’ me how hot you think I am. You’re hot too.”

The words hung between them, strange and unpolished but honest. The bond humming faintly with his contentment, that fierce thread of attraction wound around both of them, echoing back to one another.

Eddie kissed his hair again, slower this time, lingering like he never wanted to move. His arm tightened just a little more around Steve’s shoulders.

The room settled quiet again, both of them tucked together, the last of the afternoon light catching in Steve’s hair, Eddie’s fingers tapping absent rhythms against his arm.

He didn’t move after his admission, didn’t even flinch. He just stayed curled into Eddie’s side, his cheek pressed against the worn fabric of Eddie’s shirt, listening to the faint thrum of his heart.

Eddie let out another laugh, softer this time, his chin dipping to rest against the top of Steve’s head. “Hot covered in blood, huh? You really know how to flatter a guy, Harrington.” His tone was teasing, but the bond betrayed him- flickering with a pulse of heat, the sharp spark of ego stroked and lit up by the words.

He smirked faintly against his chest. “...I mean it.” His voice was quiet but steady, not embarrassed. He tilted his head just enough to glance up at Eddie through his lashes. “After you ripped that guard apart, after the stairwell.. All torn up, blood all over your face and your.. My sweater… You looked-” He exhaled slowly, searching. “-like something out of a nightmare. But mine. Strong. Beautiful.” His hand pressed over Eddie’s chest, right above where his heart beat came out too slow, too steady. “I couldn’t look away… That’s why I just had to kiss you.”

For once, Eddie didn’t rush a joke. His mouth went dry, and the bond fluttered between them- Steve’s raw honesty hitting like a blow. He looked down at him, really looked, his fingers tightening faintly where they rested against Steve’s shoulder.

“...Christ, sweetheart.” Eddie’s voice cracked low, a rough whisper. “You’re gonna kill me, saying shit like that.” He ducked his head, pressing his forehead against Steve’s temple for a moment, as if grounding himself. “I was covered in blood and you thought- beautiful?” His laugh was hoarse, a little incredulous.

His lips twitched in the ghost of a smile, his eyes still heavy-lidded. “Still do.”

Eddie’s chest squeezed, something sharp and tender catching behind his ribs. He didn’t bother answering with words- instead, he bent and pressed his mouth into Steve’s hair again, lingering there, breathing him in. Through the bond, he shoved warmth back at him, fierce and steady: you undo me it seemed to say.

He sighed at that, the kind of sigh he didn’t need but still gave, as if it let him release the weight pressing on his chest. He leaned harder into Eddie, letting his whole body sink into him.

Eddie chuckled again, gentler now, and tugged him closer until Steve was practically sprawled across him. “Guess it’s a good thing I plan on being covered in blood pretty often, huh?” He tipped his head down enough to meet Steve’s eyes, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He rolled his eyes, though his cheeks flushed faintly. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Eddie smirked but softened it with another kiss to his hair, his lips brushing lightly against his forehead. “Too late for that, sweetheart.”

The quiet returned, but it wasn’t empty- it was thick with the bond humming between them, Steve’s raw attraction and Eddie’s aching fondness blending together until it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

They stayed that way as the afternoon slid toward evening, shadows stretching longer across the room, neither moving, both tangled in the kind of silence that felt endless and safe.

Eddie thought the moment would settle into silence again, but something restless crawled under his skin. The warmth of Steve pressed to his side, the hum of the bond, the faint pulse of heat between them- it all wound too tight. His fingers twitched against Steve’s shoulder, and before he could stop himself, his voice slipped out low and unguarded.

“...Y’know.” Eddie murmured, his lips brushing Steve’s hair. “Now that it’s over.. And we’re safe… I kind of liked the way you were so protective.”

He stirred faintly, a question half-formed in the tilt of his head, but Eddie went on, even quieter now, as though the confession burned on his tongue.

“Thought it was.. Insanely hot,” Eddie breathed, more air than word, “the way you ripped that guard’s throat out, with your teeth.”

For a beat, silence stretched- sharp, charged. Then Steve’s head tilted back, his lips pulling into a wild grin, sharp and feral in the golden light. He shifted slowly, turning enough to face Eddie without dislodging the arm wrapped around him. His voice came low, steady, humming with something primal.

“...It felt good.” He admitted, the grin spreading wider. “Felt good to finally hurt them back.”

The bond crackled, heat sparking sharp and insistent. Eddie’s breath caught, a growl rumbling low in his chest before he could stop it. He lifted his hand, hooking a finger under Steve’s chin, tilting his face up fully. His thumb dragged across Steve’s lips, slow and deliberate.

“You wanna know what was hotter?” Eddie rasped, eyes dark, locked on Steve’s mouth. His thumb pressed gently against those lips, teasing the shape of them. “When you bent metal to get me free. And watching you rip open that door…” His voice dropped to a growl, low and rough. “Had me nearly ready to cream your sweats right there.”

His breath shuddered, the grin breaking into something hungrier, sharper. He didn’t flinch when Eddie’s thumb pressed firmer against his lips- he parted them slowly, letting Eddie in. The wet heat of his mouth closed around the pad of Eddie’s thumb, tongue brushing against it in the laziest, calmest stroke.

Eddie’s answering growl vibrated low, his chest pressing harder into Steve’s side as he tried to get closer. The bond sang with want, thick and unrestrained, heat spilling between them. He let Steve taste him for a beat longer before curling his fingers, tugging him forward by his lower lip.

He pulled his hand away at the last second, only to lean down and capture Steve’s lips with his own. The kiss was sudden and heated- all teeth and pressure at first, desperate and claiming, before Eddie softened into it, coaxing Steve’s mouth open further with slow, consuming drags.

Steve met him with equal hunger, his fingers twisting into Eddie’s shirt, pulling him closer until their chests pressed flush. Eddie’s arms slowly slid up his sides, keeping him close, as if there was any room left between them.

The taste of him- the faint remnant of blood on his tongue, the warmth of his mouth- it was intoxicating, grounding and wild all at once. Eddie swallowed a sound that wasn’t quite a groan, wasn’t quite a laugh, and pressed in deeper, as if trying to become one.

Steve broke just enough for air to slip between them, his lips still brushing Eddie’s, his smile sharp and reckless. “Told you,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Felt good.”

Eddie growled again, rougher this time, before pulling him back into another kiss, slower but no less consuming- a promise that this wouldn’t end here.

The kiss deepened until there was nothing gentle left in it- just teeth, tongues, mouths pressing together with hungry precision, every brush of lips sparking along the bond. Eddie tilted his head, pulling Steve closer, one of his hands finding the back of his shirt, fingers twisting tight like he’d never let go.

Steve didn’t need to pull back for air, didn’t want to, just let the practiced breaths slowly stop- their mouths sliding together in long, heated drags that left them both trembling with the intensity. The bond flared, pushing raw hunger, need, want, and adoration between them until it was impossible to tell which belonged to whom.

His hands roamed lower, slowly sliding down Eddie’s stomach, finding the hem of his shirt. He slipped beneath it, palms dragging slowly over Eddie’s stomach and up his chest. The shirt bunched as his hand roamed higher, knuckles brushing Eddie’s ribs as he pushed higher.

Eddie broke the kiss only when Steve tugged on his shirt. A smirk stretching his lips as he let Steve do as he pleased, pulling the shirt off and tossing it somewhere unseen. His eyes immediately never leaving Steve, dark and burning.

Steve didn’t hesitate- in one smooth motion, he pulled his own shirt off, baring himself just as quickly.

The sound Eddie made at that- a groan, low and rough- came from somewhere deep in his chest. His gaze raked over Steve greedily, drinking him in like he might disappear if he looked away. “Christ, sweetheart…” He muttered, almost reverent.

One of Eddie’s hands slid up Steve’s side, fingers tracing the curve of his ribs before spreading up his chest. His palm pressed flat, dragging upward until his fingers tangled in the patch of hair there. He gave a gentle tug, just enough to pull a gasp from Steve’s lips. The sound had Eddie’s smirk curving wider, though his eyes softened with something raw beneath it.

They crashed back together in another kiss, harder this time, their chests pressed flush. Steve’s hands skated over Eddie’s back, dragging nails lightly along the lines of muscle, pulling him in closer still, as though their bodies weren’t already molded tight.

They kissed like they could consume each other, like they’d starve if they stopped. Eddie nipped Steve’s bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth before releasing it, only to dive back in again. Steve groaned into his mouth, sliding his hands down to grip Eddie’s hips, holding him in place with a bruising force.

The bond vibrated with it- heat, need, affection so tangled together it was impossible to pull apart. Every flicker of want Eddie felt was mirrored back at him from Steve, magnified, feeding into the obsession that already bound them so tightly together.

Neither pulled away, not even for the smallest pause, each kiss stretched on, building hotter with every passing second, the world beyond them falling away until there was nothing left but touch, taste, and the press of each other’s bodies.

Their mouths didn’t break apart, Eddie’s tongue sliding behind Steve’s teeth, his hand’s feather light touches began its slow descent down Steve’s chest. He traced over every line deliberately- down from the hollow of his throat, past the rise and fall of his sternum, lingering over the scarred over bat bites, showing them the same loving touches Steve gives his own. His fingertips skated lower, over the soft patch of hair, down the flat plane of his stomach until they reached the edge of his waistband.

Eddie paused there, thumb hooking just under the band of Steve’s jeans, teasing the heat beneath but not yet pushing further.

That was when Steve broke the kiss- slowly, reluctantly, pulling back with a low “mm” slipping out of his throat. His lips were kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide as he leaned his forehead against Eddie’s. “I don’t want.. I don’t want just another blowjob.” He admitted, voice hoarse.

One of his hands rested over Eddie’s arm where it still hovered at his waistband, keeping him there, while the other came up and around his shoulder. His nails- blunt, human, but insistent- scratched lightly down the center of Eddie’s chest, leaving faint pink trails that made Eddie shudder. Soft gasps escaping when he scratched over a scar.

His teeth worried at his bottom lip, his eyes flicking up to meet Eddie’s. He held there for a long moment, almost hesitant, before his voice broke through, quiet, shy, but steady.”

“I want… Will you sleep with me?”

Eddie blinked, lips parting in surprise. His chest tightened at the raw honestly in Steve’s tone, the vulnerability behind it. Slowly, gently, he leaned forward to press a tender kiss against Steve’s mouth- soft, almost chaste compared to the hungry kisses a moment before.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmured when he pulled back, his tone kind, careful, not condescending in the least. “I want to. God, I want to. But.. Can you be a little more specific for me? Just so I know we’re on the same page.”

His cheeks burned red, the flush spreading down his throat. He swallowed, letting his tongue wet his suddenly too dry lips as he lowered his eyes for a moment. Then, braver than he felt, he lifted them again to meet Eddie’s gaze.

“I mean…” His voice was quiet, steadying itself between shyness and resolve. “I want to.. Go all the way. I’ve been waiting… And now that we’re finally, truly alone…” He faltered, biting his lip again before pushing through. “I want to make better memories here. With you.”

The bond thrummed between them, thick with emotion- Steve’s nervous excitement, his longing- spilling into Eddie like a tidal wave. Eddie’s heart sped up, his body going tense as he felt it all at once.

He paused again, just long enough for it to sting with vulnerability, before he whispered, even softer, “...Eds?.. I want you to fuck me.”

Eddie’s groan was guttural, ripped from deep in his chest. His hand shot up to cradle the back of Steve’s head, tugging their foreheads back together before he kissed him hard, fierce, pouring every ounce of want and affection through to Steve.

When he pulled back, his voice was rough, reverent, a little unsteady. “Jesus Christ, Harrington… You have no idea what you do to me.” He brushed his thumb over Steve’s cheek, looking at him like he was something holy. “I didn’t want to rush you. Not even a little. I was gonna wait until you were ready. But if you’re sure…” His grin tugged wide, sharp, heated. “Then absolutely, sweetheart. Absolutely I will. It would be my greatest pleasure.”

He leaned down, kissing him again, slower this time but just as consuming, pulling back only enough to murmur against his lips.

“Not here, though.” His voice was husky, threaded with a laugh that couldn’t quite cut through the tension. “Couch’ll kill your back, and I’m not about to ruin you for the first time in the living room.”

He nipped at Steve’s bottom lip, then pressed another kiss to his lips, softer, gentler, before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes again. “Let’s take this upstairs. Want you comfortable when I make you mine.”

Eddie was the first to move. He pushed up from the couch in one fluid motion, stretching tall, his spine cracking as he raised his arms above his head. His bare, scar ridden chest, gleamed faintly in the late afternoon light filtering through the curtains. When he looked back down at Steve, his grin was sharp, feral- all teeth and hunger, tempered only by the warmth in his eyes.

Before Steve could comment, Eddie dipped down fast, one arm sliding around his shoulders, the other hooking under his knees. With effortless strength, he scooped him up clean off the couch.

Steve gasped, startled at first, before laughter broke from his chest, bubbling and bright. His head tipped against Eddie’s shoulder, his arms instinctively looping around Eddie’s neck. “You could’ve warned me.” He teased, though his grin was wide, almost giddy.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eddie shot back, carrying him easily, steady and sure-footed up the stairs. -So fucking hot.- Steve’s thought pushed through the bond on accident, Eddie’s grin widening.

Steve leaned against him the whole way, smiling into the curve of Eddie’s neck. The bond thrummed witty joy, anticipation, and something heavy, every pulse of it feeding back and forth until they were both nearly buzzing with it.

At the top of the stairs, Eddie pushed Steve’s door open with his shoulder and crossed the room. He lowered him carefully onto the bed, so gentle in contrast to his earlier feral grin. Leaning down, he kissed him sweetly, slow and unhurried, his hand cradling Steve’s jaw.

His hand came up to rest on Eddie’s back, fingers spreading wide against the warm skin. Then, with a small tug, he leaned back onto the bed, pulling Eddie with him. Their lips never parted, mouths still moving together with aching slowness.

Eddie laughed into the kiss, the sound soft, carried on his breath. He braced himself above Steve, his body shifting as he slowly climbed up, pressing them chest to chest, hip to hip. When they finally broke for a moment, both were smiling, flushed.

Eddie leaned back down, unable to resist. He pressed kisses all over Steve’s face- his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the corner of his jaw. Occasionally his lips would hover over Steve’s, brushing the corner of his mouth before darting away again, just to make him chase after it. Steve laughed, warm and low, batting lightly at Eddie’s side before giving in and catching his mouth again.

Somewhere in the midst of their playfulness, his voice slipped out quieter, more vulnerable, breaking through the laughter. “I uh… Cleaned myself. This morning.”

Eddie froze for just a second, his body going taut above him. Then he let out a deep, guttural groan, lowering his head to drag hot, open-mouthed kisses down Steve’s throat. “Fuck, sweetheart…” He growled against his skin. “You’re just perfect.”

He tilted his head back, offering more of his throat, eyes fluttering shut as Eddie’s mouth traced every inch. His hands slid over Eddie’s shoulders, nails pressing lightly into his muscles as Eddie worked lower.

When Eddie reluctantly pulled back, his lips hovering just above Steve’s racing pulse, his voice was rough, thick. “You got lube, baby?”

He groaned at the question, his hand fumbling to the bedside table. His breath hitched when Eddie’s teeth scraped- blunt but insistent- along the side of his neck, sending sparks racing through him. With a clumsy flick, he opened the drawer and grabbed the bottle, tossing it onto the bed so it landed just beside Eddie’s hip.

Eddie lifted his head, eyebrows raised, a grin twitching at his lips as he looked at him.

Steve’s cheeks were tinted pink, the blush spreading over to the tips of his ears. “It was.. Already here. When we came in. Guess Wayne thought we might.. You know.” He trailed off, embarrassed but smiling faintly.

Eddie huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he reached down to snag the bottle. “Remind me to thank the old man.” He muttered, his grin curling sharper as he bent back down. His teeth grazed over Steve’s throat again, firmer this time, deliberate enough to make Steve shudder under him.

“Fuckin’ knew he was a saint.” Eddie added roughly, before kissing down his neck again, trailing lower this time, heat and promise in every press of his lips. He kissed down Steve’s throat, teeth dragging lightly, as his hand finally slid lower. He tugged at Steve’s waistband, fingers curling into the denim, and leaned back just enough to smirk down at him.

“Gonna take these off you, sweetheart.” Eddie murmured, voice dark and fond all at once. “Slow. Don’t wanna rush things.”

He swallowed, chest rising quick with nerves and heat, but he nodded, lips parting on a soft breath.

Eddie eased the button open, then the zipper, the sound loud in the quiet room. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to tug, slow and deliberate. Inch by inch, he pulled the denim down, revealing long lines of thick thighs, pale skin kissed with old scars, until finally the jeans slid free entirely. He tossed them away without paying attention.

Because what Eddie wasn’t prepared for was the sight that greeted him. His breath stopped again, then he let out a deep, reverent groan. “Fuck, Stevie..” His eyes went dark as his grin curled sharp. “No underwear again? You trying to kill me.. Again?”

He laughed softly, cheeks flushed. “Guess I forgot.”

“Forgot.” Eddie echoed, lowering himself to press a lingering kiss against the jut of Steve’s hipbone. “You’re evil.” His voice was a growl, but his hand stroked tenderly down Steve’s side as he said it.

Eddie shifted back up, hovering over Steve, meeting his eyes with a sudden seriousness. “Listen to me, sweetheart. I know we’ve fooled around before but.. It’s your first time with a guy, yeah? So I’m gonna walk you through everything I do. You’ll know what’s coming before I touch you, and you tell me if you want me to stop or slow down. Deal?”

His throat worked, but his gaze never wavered. “Deal.”

“Good boy.” Eddie leaned down, kissing him softly, lingering. When he pulled back, his tone grew thoughtful. “Usually.. People like to be on their knees for this, less pressure and it can feel better. But…” He trailed off, waiting.

Steve bit his lip, cheeks going warm. “No. I-I want to see you. I don’t want to miss a second.

The bond thrummed sharp and hot at the confession, Eddie’s own chest squeezing with it. He bit his lip hard, eyes falling shut for a second like he had to steady himself. Then he nodded, leaning down to kiss Steve again, slow and reverent. “You got it, sweetheart. Face to face.”

Eddie shifted, reaching for a pillow, and guided Steve gently. “Lift your hips for me.” He slid the pillow beneath, angling him just so, murmuring soft praise the whole time.

Steve was already shivering beneath him, nerves and anticipation threading together until his body hummed with it. Eddie kissed him through it, grounding him with mouth and touch- at his jaw, his throat, the sharp point of his collarbone.

Then Eddie’s hands began to wander lower again. His palms were hot, broad, and unhurried as they skimmed over Steve’s stomach, his hips, down the length of his thighs, before returning, circling, teasing. Every touch was slow, measured, like he was reacquainting himself with every inch of him.

He gasped, a broken sound, as Eddie’s mouth followed, kissing over the same paths his hands had mapped, heat after heat, press after press, until Steve felt stretched not just in body but in every sense- like his nerves couldn’t contain any more of Eddie at once.

“Eds.” He whispered, half-plea, half-praise, his voice already unraveling.

Eddie hushed him softly, kissing just below his ear. “I know, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good, so full of me you’ll never forget.”

The words sank through his chest like molten fire, his body arching into every kiss, every stroke, every teasing scrape of blunt teeth. He couldn’t keep quiet, soft moans spilling out, every one caught by Eddie’s ears and answered with a groan, a kiss, or a whispered curse.

When Eddie pressed closer, the weight of him settled over Steve in a way that felt encompassing, almost overwhelming. His hands, his mouth, his voice- all of it pressed in at once, filling Steve up with sensation until it bordered on too much. He arched, back bowing, legs trembling with the force of it.

Every sound Steve made- every whimper, gasp, broken laugh- Eddie drank in greedily, like they were just as necessary as blood. Each time Steve tipped his head back with a noise he couldn’t contain, Eddie kissed his throat, his chest, his shoulders, reverent and hungry all at once.

Steve was lost in it, completely. His body sang with heat and pressure and Eddie, every nerve strung taut, every thought drowned out by the bond crackling white-hot between them. He clung to Eddie, nails dragging helplessly down his back, and whispered his name like it was both prayer and plea.

Eddie pulled back, a grin stretching across his face. He reached over for the discarded bottle of them, the cap snapping open with a sharp click. His eyes flicked to Steve's a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Alright, sweetheart. I’m gonna start slow. First, just one finger. Gonna get you nice and slick, open you up real gentle. You good with that?”

He nodded, his breathing kicking back on and letting out a deep breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, a mix of nerves and want in his eyes. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Eddie squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, the coolness of it a start contrast to the heat of his hand as he warmed it up. “You’ll feel a little cold at first, but I’ve got you. Just relax for me, okay?” His voice was low, soothing, as he settled between Steve’s legs, one hand resting on his thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles to help relax him.

He exhaled shakily again, his body tense but trusting as Eddie’s slick finger circled his rim, teasing at the edge before pressing in just barely. “There we go.” Eddie murmured, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. “Just a little stretch. Breathe with me if you need to.” His own chest rose and fell deliberately, not just to guide Steve, but to breathe in their scent, to make sure Steve was okay.

A small, unsteady sound slipped from his lips at the initial push, a faint burn that made him tense. Eddie immediately leaned down, pressing soft, distracting kisses along the exposed skin of Steve’s inner thigh, his free hand stroking over his hip. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Just focus on me.” His lips lingered, warm and grounding until Steve’s body started to ease under the gentle attention.

Slowly, Eddie worked his finger deeper, keeping his movements unhurried, letting Steve adjust to the sensation. “That’s it.” He whispered, eyes locked on Steve’s face, drinking in every flicker of expression. “You’re taking it so well. Gonna add a little more now, just keep breathing for me.”

His moans started soft, tentative, as Eddie moved with care, but they grew louder when Eddie’s finger pressed in, curling just right, brushing against that sweet spot inside him. A sharp, desperate noise tore from his throat, his hips jerking involuntarily. Eddie groaned low in response, his own hunger barely contained. “Fuck, I love that sound. You’re so damn perfect.”

He kept going, slowly adding a second finger after a few minutes, murmuring every step. “Two now, sweetheart. Gotta stretch you a bit more. Tell me if it’s too much.” The lube made everything slick and smooth, and Eddie took his time, scissoring his fingers gently, opening Steve up with patience. Steve’s moans turned wanton, unrestrained, echoing in the room as his body arched into the touch, chasing the pleasure.

“God, Eddie.” He gasped, voice breaking, his hands gripping the sheets. Every time Eddie’s finger curled against his sweet spot, he let out a high, keening whine that seemed to pull straight from his core, and Eddie soaked up every sound like it was life itself.

“Yeah, I’ve got you.” Eddie purred, leaning down to nip at Steve’s hip again, playful and teasing. “Look at you, falling apart for me. Gonna make this so good for you, Stevie.” He pulled back slowly, adding more lube. Then he carefully added a third finger, his movements still slow, careful, making sure to stretch Steve wider. “Three now. Feel that? Just a little more, sweetheart. You’re doing so fucking good.”

He was a mess beneath him, his moans turning into a symphony of gasps, whimpers, and broken pleas. His body trembled, legs twitching every time Eddie’s fingers pressed against that spot inside him. “Eds- fuck, please!” He begged after a few minutes, voice raw and desperate. “More. I need more. I can- I can take it.”

Eddie’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned closer, his free hand skimming up Steve’s chest to gently tweak a nipple, just to hear him gasp again. “Oh, I know you can sweetheart. But I’ve gotta make you cum first. It’ll make it easier for both of us, trust me, it’ll loosen you up even more.”

Before Steve could even moan in response, Eddie shifted his angle, his fingers suddenly thrusting harder, faster, zeroing in on his prostate with brutal precision. His reaction was instant- his back arching off the bed, a guttural cry ripping from his throat as his eyes rolled back, lids fluttering shut. His legs shook uncontrollably, thighs clamping around Eddie’s arm as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through him, too much, too fast.

“Eds! Oh fuck, fuck!” Steve’s voice cracked, pitching into a whimper, then a sob, as his body writhed under the relentless assault. His hands scrambled for purchase, one gripping Eddie’s shoulder, nails digging in, the other fisting the sheets until his knuckles turned white. Every thrust of Eddie’s fingers pulled a new sound from him- sharp gasps, low moans, desperate whines that bordered on screams. “I can’t- I’m gonna-!”

“Yeah, you are.” Eddie growled, his own voice rough with want, eyes locked on Steve’s face, taking in every twitch, every shudder. “Let go for me, sweetheart. I wanna see you lose it. Wanna hear every fucking sound you make.”

His entire body seized, a choked scream tearing from his chest as the pleasure peaked, shattering through him. His hips bucked wildly, muscles clenching around Eddie’s fingers, his breath coming in ragged, uneven pants interspersed with little hiccuping moans. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his chest heaving as he rode out the aftershocks, overwhelmed, oversensitive, but still craving more.

Eddie slowed his movement, easing Steve through it, his fingers still moving but gentler now, drawing out the last tremors. “There’s my good boy.” He murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Steve’s trembling thigh. “Look at you, all fucked out and gorgeous. We’re just getting started sweetheart.”

Eddie placed another tender kiss to Steve’s inner thigh, his lips lingering for a moment as he murmured, “You did so good, sweetheart.” Slowly, with care, he eased his fingers out, watching Steve’s face for any sign of discomfort. The empty feeling made Steve whimper softly, his body still buzzing from the overload of sensations.

“Be right back.” Eddie promised, his voice low and reassuring as he slid off the bed. He disappeared into the ensuite for a moment, returning with a soft, fluffy towel in hard. He climbed back onto the bed, kneeling between Steve’s legs, and gave him a small, crooked grin. “Gotta clean you up a little. Look at the mess you made.”

His cheeks flushed, a sheepish sound escaping him as Eddie began to gently wipe him down. The towel was warm from being near the sink, and Eddie moved with a surprising sweetness, dabbing at the large load smeared across his stomach, chest, and even a few streaks that had somehow made it up to his cheeks. Eddie took his time, making sure every trace was cleaned off with gentle swipes. “There we go.” Eddie said softly, tossing the towel carelessly off the side of the bed once he was done.

Leaning down, Eddie captured Steve’s lips in a slow, gentle kiss, letting it linger as he pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. Without leaving the bed he popped open his own jeans, slowly pulling them and his boxers off in an awkward jiggle as he moved leg to leg, still kneeling. When he got them off he tossed them carelessly across the room.

He reached for the lube still discarded on the bed. “Hey sweetheart, you happen to have any condoms?” His tone was casual, but there was a heat still simmering beneath it.

Steve nodded at first, his brain still fuzzy, but then shook his head, his voice weak and a little raw as he spoke. “I mean… I’m clean. If you are too..” He slowly looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes. “... I wanna feel you. All of you.”

A deep, hungry growl rumbled in Eddie’s chest at the words, his eyes darkening as he surged forward, kissing Steve deeply, tongues tangling with a desperate edge. When he pulled back, a near feral grin stretched his lips as he nodded. “Yeah, I’m clean. Fuck, you’re gonna feel me alright.”

Eddie squeezed a generous amount of lube into his palm, slicking up his cock with slow, purposeful strokes, his eyes never leaving Steve’s. The sight made Steve’s breath hitch, his body already aching for more despite the lingering sensitivity. Eddie shifted, leaning over him, one hand braced beside Steve’s head, the other guiding himself as he settled between Steve’s thighs.

“Alright, sweetheart.” Eddie murmured, his voice low and steady, though there was a tremor of restraint in it. “Might hurt a bit at first. But just like before, I’m gonna go slow, I promise. You tell me if it’s too much, or you need me to stop, yeah?”

Steve swallowed hard, nodding, his hands reaching up to grip Eddie’s shoulders for something to hold on to. “Yeah. I’m good. Just… Go slow.”

Eddie gave him a small, reassuring smile, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before focusing. He guided the head of his cock to Steve’s rim, the slick tip circling at first, teasing, spreading the lube around before he began to push. The pressure was immediate, a slow, insistent stretch as the head pressed against him, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat, his body tensing instinctively.

“Easy, easy.” Eddie whispered, his hand moving to stroke Steve’s hip, thumb rubbing soothing circled into the skin. “Just breathe for me. Relax. I’ve got you.” His voice was a grounding force, and Steve forced himself to exhale, trying to let go of the tension as Eddie patiently waited, not moving further until he felt Steve’s body begin to yield.

Finally, with a slow, careful push, the head popped past the tight ring of muscle, and Eddie let out a deep guttural groan, his head dropping forward as the heat and tightness enveloped him. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re so tight. So fucking.. Fucking perfect.”

He gasped sharply, the stretch burning more than he’d expected, a shocked, almost painted sound escaping him as his nails dug into Eddie’s shoulders. His body clenched instinctively, and Eddie froze instantly, not daring to move an inch.

“Hey, hey, shh.” Eddie murmured, his voice soft but firm, his hand reaching up to gently cup Steve’s cheek, thumb brushing over his jaw. “Just breathe with me. In and out. You’re okay. I’m not moving ‘til you’re ready.”

He nodded shakily, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he tried to focus on Eddie’s voice, on the warmth of his hand, the steady weight of him above. The burn was still there, sharp and unfamiliar, but it dulled slowly as he forced his muscles to relax, aided by the slow, comforting rhythm of Eddie’s thumb on his skin. “Okay,” he finally whispered, voice trembling but determined. “I’m okay. Keep going.”

Eddie’s eyes searched his for a moment, making sure, before he nodded. “Alright. Just a little more at a time. Tell me if it’s too much.” His movements were painstakingly slow, inching forward with barely perceptible shifts, giving Steve’s body time to adjust to the fullness, the stretch. Every so often, he’d pause entirely, leaning down to press soft kisses to Steve’s neck, his shoulder, any exposed skin he could reach, murmuring quiet praise. “You’re doing so fucking good, sweetheart. Taking me so well. Just a bit more.”

His noises shifted gradually, the initial discomfort giving way to a strange, overwhelming mix of pressure and pleasure as Eddie filled him. His gasps turned into shaky moans, his grip on Eddie’s shoulders loosening slightly as he started to rock his hips, instinctively seeking more.

Eddie groaned at the movement, his own control slipping for a split second before he reined it back in, keeping his promise to go slow. “That’s it,” he rasped, voice thick with want. “Fuck, you feel incredible. Gonna take my time with you, make sure you’re ready..”

Eddie pushed forward just a fraction more, the angle shifting slightly as he brushed against Steve’s prostate. A sharp, electric gasp tore from Steve’s lips, his back arching off the bed, the pillow under his hips accentuating the curve of his spine. His fingers dug into Eddie’s shoulders, nails biting into skin as his body reacted instantly, tightening around Eddie that made him groan deep and ragged.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Eddie rasped, his voice rough with strain as he froze, the sudden grip almost too much. His forehead dropped against Steve’s collarbone, cool skin meeting warm, and he panted unnecessarily, fighting the urge to thrust the rest of the way in. “You’re gonna kill me with that grip. Just… Gimmie a sec. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Steve trembled beneath him, chest having, little aftershocks of pleasure rippling through him from that single brush. His moans were soft, almost dazed, as he tried to adjust to the overwhelming fullness, the lingering ache mixing with sparks of pleasure. Minutes dragged on, each one heavy with tension, until Steve’s voice broke the silence, weak and desperate. “Eds… Please. Move. I need more. Please.”

Eddie lifted his head, eyes dark and searching, making sure Steve meant it. Then he nodded, a strained hum escaping him as he started to press forward again, inch by slow inch. Their groans mingled in the air, raw and hungry- Eddie’s a low rumble in his chest, Steve’s a higher, shaky sound as his body stretched to take more. When Eddie finally bottomed out, fully seated inside him, Steve was squirming, unable to stay still, his hips twitching as quiet, needy whines spilled from his lips.

“God, feels so good.” He slurred, head tipping back against the pillow, eyes half-lidded. “So fuckin’ full.. Eds, fuck.”

Eddie growled softly, leaning up to press his mouth to Steve’s neck, blunt teeth biting down just hard enough to sting before sucking a dark bruise into the skin. The possessive mark made Steve whimper, his body jolting under the dual sensation of teeth and the overwhelming stretch. Eddie held himself still again, lips lingering on the bruised spot, tasting the faint salt of Steve’s sweat as he fought for control. “Gotta mark you up, Stevie.” He muttered against his skin. “Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

His impatience grew, his hands sliding down Eddie’s back, gripping at his hips as if to pull him closer, deeper, anything. “Eddie, c’mon.” He begged, voice breaking with frustration. “Move. Actually fuck me like I asked. Please, I can’t- just do it.”

Eddie pulled back enough to meet his eyes, a dangerous glint in his gaze as a feral grin spread across his face. “Sweetheart, I’m not sure I can go slow if I start moving right now. You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

He arched his back, a desperate attempt to move his hips, though his strength was waning. “I don’t care,” he gasped, voice raw and insistent. “I want it. Want you. Just- please!”

Eddie’s grin widened, all sharp edges and promise. “Alright, baby. Remember you asked for this.” His hands gripped Steve’s hips, steadying him as he pulled out just a little, then thrust back in gently, testing. The movement was slow at first, careful, but each roll of his hips drew filthy, breathless praises from his lips. “Fuck, look at you. Taking me so damn well. Such a good boy for me, huh? Beggin’ me to fuck you.”

He moaned like he couldn’t hold it back, broken and loud, eerie sound a testament to how much he was unraveling. “So good, Eds- fuck, it’s so good.” He slurred, words tripping over themselves as his head thrashed against the pillow, hands clawing at the sheets, at Eddie, anywhere he could reach. “Don’t stop, please, don’t- oh fuck!”

Eddie pace picked up, just a notched, still controlled but with a growing hunger. Every few thrusts, he angled just right, hitting Steve’s sweet spot with precision, drawing out sharp, keening cries that made Eddie’s own breath catch. “Yeah, you like that?” He growled, voice dripping with heat. “Love hearing you fall apart for me. Keep making those pretty noises, sweetheart.”

Steve was a mess, body trembling, legs twitching with every targeted thrust, his moans turning into sobs of pleasure as the sensations piled up, layer after layer, until he could barely form a sentence. “Eds- fuck, right there, yeah, don’t- oh god, I’m-” His voice broke off into a whimper, overwhelmed.

After a while, Eddie shifted, his hands sliding down to hook under Steve’s thighs, lifting them slightly as he adjusted the angle. The new position opened Steve up even more, and Eddie’s grip tightened, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, more insistent. “Fuck, your hole feels so good.” He groaned, voice rough and filthy as he watched Steve’s face contort with pleasure. “So tight, so fucking perfect for me. Taking every inch like you were made for it. Goddamn, sweetheart. I could fuck you all night.”

Steve’s cries grew louder, raw and unrestrained, his body arching into every thrust, chasing the rhythm as Eddie drove into him. His hands scrambled for purchase, clawing at the sheets as pleasure and pressure built to a dizzying peak. “Eds, fuck, I- harder, please, I can take it.” He babbled, voice slurred and desperate.

Eddie’s growl rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against Steve’s skin as he stared down at him with a feral intensity. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll give you exactly what you need. Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t think straight.”

Without another word he let his control snap. He grabbed Steve’s legs, hoisting them up and over his shoulders with a rough, possessive grip. The new angle folded Steve almost in half, opening him up complete as Eddie loomed over him, eyes dark and wild. Then he started thrusting- wildly, unhinged, a brutal pace that rocked the bed and sent Steve’s body jolting with every slam of his hips.

Steve screamed, raw and unrestrained, pleasure ripping through him like wildfire. His hands shot up, fingers tangling tightly into Eddie’s curls, pulling hard as his body arched and trembled under the onslaught. “Eddie!- fuck, yes, please!- Harder, don’t stop!” His words were broken, slurred, barely coherent as his eyes fluttered, lids fighting to stay open under it all.

Eddie’s hips snapped forward, each movement ruthless, slamming directly into Steve's sweet spot with punishing accuracy. Steve’s screams turned into desperate, high-pitched sobs, his body shaking as the pleasure built into an unbreakable edge.

Eddie leaned in closer, his voice a low, guttural growl laced with both venom and adoration. “That’s it, you desperate little slut. Taking my cock like a fucking pro. So goddamn good for me, aren’t you, my perfect little hole? Fuck, I love how you scream for me.”

His words were mean, cutting, but the heat behind them was still drenched in love, each degrading name paired with a hungry reverence in his tone. Steve could only whimper in response, too far gone to form a reply, his body and mind consumed by the relentless pounding.

Just as Steve teetered on the precipice, his moans turning into frantic gasps, Eddie let his fangs drop with a sharp, predatory glint. He leaned down, bending Steve even further, and sank his fangs into the tender junction of his neck and shoulder. The bite was deep, piercing, and the rush of indescribable pleasure that followed was immediate and overwhelming.

Steve screamed, a sound of pure, unadulterated ecstasy, his eyes rolling back as his body seized. The bond suddenly flared white-hot, a feedback loop of intense pleasure surging through the both of them. Eddie growled against Steve’s skin, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through him as he slammed in brutally, each thrust fueled by the shared high of the bite. The pleasure doubled back on itself, amplifying with every movement, every pulse of the bond.

Steve’s orgasm hit like a tidal wave, his body convulsing as he came in another large load. Rope after rope of thick, hot cum spilled out, coating his chest, his stomach, even splattering up to Eddie’s chin as the sheet volume of it seemed endless. His vision blurred, and then darkened, pleasure so intense it dragged him under, blacking out entirely as his body went limp beneath Eddie.

Eddie growled, primal and unrestrained, slamming in one last time with a force that shook them both. His own release hit, filling Steve with his own massive load, the heat and volume of it spilling deep inside as his hips stuttered to a stop. He stayed there for a moment, buried to the hilt, panting unnecessarily as the aftershocks rippled through him, the bond still humming with the echoes of their shared climax.

Slowly, he eased his fangs from Steve’s neck, lapping at the puncture marks with a tenderness that contrasted the savagery of seconds before. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He rasped, voice raw. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Eddie took his time slowly pulling back, slowly letting Steve’s legs down, massaging his thighs gently as he went. He took even longer to pull out, groaning at the load that spilled out across the sheets. He would have worried if he couldn’t still feel the sparks of pleasure, contentment, and happiness radiating from Steve’s end of the bond.

He took a few moments to calm down, to get himself back under control.

When he felt comfortable enough to stand he picked the towel back up off the floor, grimacing at it before slowly working to wipe Steve clean. He worked in slow, careful, unhurried touches. Wiping carefully at Steve’s thighs, the towel warming from his own hands, his other palm smoothing across skin as if he could soothe the soreness away just by touch.

Every so often he paused- to lean down and press a kiss to Steve’s damp temple, to brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead, to murmur soft nonsense into his ear.

Steve stirred faintly but didn’t wake, breath evening out again, lashed dark against his flushed skin. Eddie smiled at him, quiet and fond, before finishing his work. When he was sure Steve was clean enough to rest comfortably, he set the towel aside with a grimace, then passed to the bathroom to fetch a second one.

He gave himself a quick, rough swipe-down, not as thorough, just enough to keep from soiling the sheets further. Both towels he carried to the laundry basket in the corner, dropping them in with a soft thud.

Behind him, the bedsprings creaked- Steve shifting, a low groan escaping him as his eyes cracked open, hazy and half-focused.

“Hey.” Eddie murmured quietly, already moving back to him, a bright grin splitting his face. He leaned down, kissing him soft, lingering, letting Steve taste the faint metallic sweetness still on his lips.

Steve blinked up at him, lids heavy, voice slurred. “Wh’t… What happened?”

“You blacked out for a little bit.” Eddie explained gently, easing himself onto the mattress again. His hand came up to card tenderly through Steve’s hair, slow strokes along his scalp. “Don’t worry. Took care of you. Cleaned us up as much as I could. We’ll definitely need a shower though, later, once you can stand. But there’s no rush.”

Steve hummed, eyes fluttering closed again, body melting under Eddie’s hands. Eddie shifted closer, tugging him against his chest with infinite care, one arm around his shoulders, the other tracing idle patterns along his ribs. He bent low, lips brushing over hair and skin alike as he whispered.

“You were amazing.” He murmured against Steve’s temple. “So fucking perfect. Everything about you, Stevie. The way you let me see you, the way you gave yourself to me-” His voice cracked on the edges of awe, of a love he couldn’t yet say. “Couldn’t dream up anything better.”

He smiled weakly, cracking his eyes open again, hazel-gold catching the low light. He wiggled his hips just slightly, groaning at the soreness, before letting his gaze flick down at himself and back up at Eddie, mischief curling at his lips.

“There’s cum in my ass, isn’t there?” He asked, voice rough but playful, grin crooked.

Eddie’s eyes went dark with heat again, a low, rumbling growl slipping out of his chest before he smirked. “Of course there is.”

He just nodded, the smile pulling wider, smug even through his exhaustion. “Good. ‘Cause we’re definitely doing that again.”

The bond pulsed hot at the words, Eddie groaning deep in his chest. He dipped down, kissing Steve with a sweetness that didn’t quite hide the hunger beneath it. “As often as you want, sweetheart.” Eddie promised against his lips. “Every time you ask. Every way you want. Always.”

He chuckled softly, “Think we broke the bed in properly?”

Eddie’s shoulders shook in silent laughter.

He must’ve dozed off again, tucked tight against Eddie’s chest, because the next thing he was aware of was strong arms slipping under him. He cracked an eye open and let out a questioning hum, only to find himself lifted effortlessly from the sheets.

“Eds.” He mumbled, too tired to fight the way his body instinctively curled into Eddie’s chest.

“Shh.” Eddie soothed, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as he carried him toward the bathroom. “I know I said we can wait to shower, but it’s been a while. Won’t let you sleep sticky, sweetheart.” His voice was teasing, but the tenderness underneath it was undeniable.

The bathroom was warm, steam already curling in the air- Eddie must’ve turned the water on before scooping him up. He set Steve down with slow care on the closed lid of the toilet, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “Sit tight. I’ll get it just right.”

He watched him through half-lidded eyes, the way Eddie tested the water with his hand, adjusting the knobs until the temperature made him nod with satisfaction. He was humming under his breath- something low and aimless, but it tugged at the bond like a lullaby.

When Eddie returned, he crochet down, hands cracking Steve’s knees. “Up we go, sweetheart.” He coaxed him up, steadying him with an arm around his waist as they stepped into the shower together.

The water cascaded hot over their skin, plastering Eddie’s curls to his forehead, slicking Steve’s hair down into his eyes. He let out a blissful sigh, leaning into Eddie’s chest like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Eddie chuckled low. “That good, huh?” He tilted Steve’s chin up, pressing a kiss to his lips under the spray.

Without letting go, Eddie reached for the washcloth, working it to a lather. He started at Steve’s shoulders, slow, careful circles, raining away sweat and the faint traces of blood on his shoulder. He kissed Steve’s cheek between swipes, wiped a soapy line down his chest only to chase it with his mouth. His hands were reverent, like he was memorizing the shape of Steve’s body all over again.

He shivered beneath the tender treatment, exhaustion and pleasure tangled in equal measure. “You don’t have to-”

“Yeah, I do.” Eddie cut in softly, voice rough with emotion. His hands trailed lower, sliding soap down Steve’s arms, guiding his hands to rest against his own chest for balance. “Let me take care of you, Stevie. Please.”

His chest squeezed at the plea, at how much Eddie meant it. He nodded, resting his forehead to Eddie’s shoulder, letting the hum of the water and Eddie’s touch wash him loose and pliant.

When Eddie finished, he rinsed the cloth and ran it gently over himself, quick and perfunctory, never breaking the closeness of their bodies. He set it aside, then leaned down, capturing Steve’s mouth in a soft, lingering kiss. Water ran over them both, how and cleansing, but it was Eddie’s mouth- Eddie’s arms curling tight around him- that anchored Steve completely.

Eventually, Eddie murmured against his lips. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get you dry before you melt.” He shut off the water, stepping carefully out with Steve in tow, one arm steady around his waist.

He wrapped Steve in a towel first, snug and secure, rubbing his arms through the fabric until Steve laughed weakly at the ticklish affection. Only then did Eddie grab one for himself.

Back in the bedroom, Eddie quickly stripped and changed the bed, before coaxing Steve back down. He followed after, sliding in close, pulling Steve to his chest. Steve sighed, warm and content, burrowing close, damp hair tickling Eddie’s chin.

The bond pulsed slow and sure between them, full of exhaustion and affection, contentment humming like a steady chord. Eddie kissed Steve’s forehead, whispering, “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And Steve, for once, didn’t fight it.

Notes:

Sorry for the delays. Still in the process of moving. About to start an over 30hr drive tomorrow afternoon. So next chapter might take longer to put out than usual.

Chapter 35: Interior Design

Summary:

“This place…” He murmured finally, voice thick with exhaustion. “Doesn’t feel like theirs anymore.”

Notes:

No sex in this chapter, just some making out between our favorite vampires.

Thought I'd spoil you guys with another happy chapter. ;) No particular reason.

The wind cut sharply against his face, whipping through his hair, cold enough to sting- but where was he? The scent of water was thick in the air, mineral-rich and mossy, as if water was crashing into rocks somewhere close. The rustle of leaves echoed nearby, the brittle crunch of loose rock shifted beneath his feet with every uneasy step.

But where was he?

Then the thundering sound came next: a dozen- no, more, much more- hearts, pounding, too fast, too loud, too human. They drummed in his ears, quick and urgent, like a countdown. Surrounding. Closing in.

There was a hand in his, iron-tight. Familiar. But who?

He whipped his head to the side, breath catching- Eddie. Of course, it was Eddie. Who else would it be? But the look on his face- pale, strained, eyes wide, jaw clenched- made Steve falter. Scared didn’t fit, not really. No, this was worse. Eddie looked… Terrified.

The two of them stood on jagged rock, the edge crumbling just beneath their heels. Black shadows pressed in all around them, darker than the trees, thicker than night, stretching long and wrong like something alive. He couldn’t count them, couldn’t define them, only felt the weight of them circling.

Eddie’s grip on his hand was so crushing he could feel bone bending, splintering, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. He heard Eddie speaking- something broken, something sharp, too soft over the noise. He leaned in, straining to catch it, but the words faded off before they could reach him. The sound thing that cut through was one word, wrapped and echoing, and he wasn’t even certain it was what he’d hear. “Sorry.”

And then- suddenly. Violently.

Steve was yanked backward, his feet skidding against stone, the ground gone. He was falling. His hand slipped, nails scraping across Eddie’s palm before their fingers tore apart.

He tried to shout, to scream Eddie’s name, but nothing left his throat. His mouth moved, lungs burned, but no sound came. Only the rush of wind swallowing him whole.

Above him, Eddie’s face blurred. An apology in his eyes. A glance- quick, final- before a sharp crack split the air. A gunshot? A firework? He couldn’t tell.

And then. Eddie was gone.

Vanished.

The last thing he felt was the endless plunge of falling, darkness rising up to meet him.

---

Steve bolted upright with a ragged, sharp, gasp. His chest felt like it might burst open, like his heart was attempting to escape. The bond was hot and taut in the back of his mind, his panic bleeding into it before he could wrestle it back down.

He blinked hard, eyes adjusting immediately as he looked around in the dark. He was at his house, in his parents' old bed. The air was thick with the scent of them both- blood, sweat, skin, salt. Eddie lay sprawled at his side, dead still in the way only they could be, an occasional rumble in his chest like some subconscious purr.

The wreckage of their night was obvious even in the shadows. The mattress and blankets claw-marked, threads shredded into loose ribbons. The headboard gouged deep with splinters still curled out where nails and claws had dug in and ripped. Both on purpose, and not.

He couldn’t even be embarrassed; the sight pulled a slow smile to his lips. Eddie had been determined to drown out every memory the house carried for him- so they’d filled it with their own, loud and unrestrained. All throughout the house.

Steve exhaled, running a hand absently over his chest, fingers brushing a still tender bite at his collarbone. The bond pulsed as his touch lingered there, a warmth trickling back from Eddie in his sleep, instinctive, answering.

He shifted carefully, leaning into Eddie’s still form, pressing his forehead against the other’s temple. “Was just a dream.” He mumbled aloud, though he felt the reassurance humming between them. “Not leaving me. Not leaving you. Not ever.”

Eddie stirred faintly, a low sound in his throat, his hand twisting against the sheets until it found Steve’s thigh and stilled there, even unconsciously seeking out contact.

He let out a soft breath, sliding lower, tucking himself back against Eddie’s chest, listening to the silence around them, feeling more alive than he had in a long time.

---

He stood in the living room, Bat 2.0 clutched in his fist, the metal cool and heavy, the nails jutting through like vicious teeth. His gaze was locked on the oversized portrait above the fireplace- his parents frozen in oil paint, still smiles and glassy eyes, untouched by dust or time.

They’d called Wayne again that morning. Just to reassure him they were alright, that they’d be around again soon. But they’d also asked for supplies, and told him what they’d planned on doing. Nails. Paint. Gasoline. A handful of other odds and ends for later projects. Wayne hadn’t asked questions, only hummed in agreement and promised to drop them off soon.

The new bat had come from the garage- an old metal relic that once belonged to Steve-, not wanting to disturb his original one still at Waynes. With his new strength, the nails went through it like a hot knife through butter. He’d worked them in with precision, a ritual more than a task, until the weapon gleamed brutal and ready in his hands.

Then, together, they’d turned that feral focus on a guest bedroom. He had taken great pleasure in hacking the bed frame to pieces, wood splintering and shrieking under each practiced blow. Just a taste of what he wanted to do around the house.

Eddie had been there the whole time, gleeful and wild-eyed, smashing chunks of wood apart with his bare hands, laughing in the way that made Steve’s stomach tighten. Every blow felt like a weight lifted, each crash a vow: this place would never again belong to anyone but him, but them.

Now, he stood in the living room, muscles still thrumming with that strange, giddy violence, staring at the portrait. His grip on the bat was white-knuckled. He didn’t even realize his lips had peeled back into something closer to a snarl than a smile until Eddie stepped into his line of sight.

“Here, let me.” Eddie murmured, voice a rasp of amusement and tenderness wrapped together. He reached up, fingers curling around the gilded frame. As easy as plucking a book from a shelf, he tore it down, the hooks screaming as the rod on the back gave way. The portrait hit the floor with a heavy thud, leaning drunkenly against the coffee table.

Steve exhaled hard, his fangs cutting into his bottom lip as his shoulders eased. Eddie tossed him a sidelong grin, wide and fond, before nudging the frame with the toe of his boot.

“Ugly thing.” Eddie said lightly, but there was an edge beneath it, sharp and protective. “Can’t believe you had to stare at it most of your life.”

He shifted the bat against his shoulder, tilting his head as he stared down at the painting. “Didn’t stare. Just… Stopped looking at some point.” His voice was low, almost flat, but Eddie heard the truth of it- the old ache, the hollow neglect.

Eddie reached out, tugging Steve closer by his free hand. His lips curved, a small, sharp smile breaking through. He squeezed Eddie’s hand back, the bond sparking bright between them, full of shared satisfaction and unspoken promise.

“C’mon.” Eddie said, grinning as he moved to stand to the side, fingers sliding slowly from Steve’s hand as he gave him space. “Ruin it properly, sweetheart.”

His nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath, muscles coiled tight, every nerve thrumming with barely leashed fury. The bat swung loose from his shoulder, pendulum- like, the nails glinting in the low light as if hungry for blood. He let it twist between his fingers once, twice, his gaze flicking toward Eddie from the corner of his eye. Sure, he wanted to show off just a little.

Eddie only tipped his chin in silent encouragement, lips curved into something sharp, as if he were watching an execution.

He allowed the bat to flip in his hand, before gripping it tightly with both hands. With a guttural snarl, he hefted the bat high above his head and brought it crashing down. Letting his strength bleed through and smashing straight through the frame, cutting through the painting.

The sound was thunderous- wood splintering, canvas ripping, glass shattering in one violent strike. The portrait caved in, frame splintering clean through. Shards from the coffee table behind it exploded outward, skittering across the floor.

But Steve didn’t stop there.

He kept going.

Again and again.

And again.

He brought the bat down, his strength spilling out unchecked, each strike fueled by years of silence, neglect, and abandonment. He tore into the painting until it was unrecognizable, painted faces obliterated, shredded beyond recognition, the canvas hanging in ragged strips. Then he turned his rage on the rest of the coffee table, driving the jagged nails through the wooden legs, splinters flying with every blow, letting the wooden legs feel every bit of his rage as it poured out of him.

Eddie leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching the storm. His smile had gone wolfish, sharp teeth glinting as pride surged hot through the bond. He didn’t need to cheer Steve on- he just let the hum of his approval pulse instead, thick and steady, letting Steve feel it deep in his bones.

When he finally paused, shoulders squared, eyes burning as he stood over the wreckage, he let himself soak it all in for a second. Before his grip on the bat flexed, his jaw tight, fang peeking past his lip as his chest rose and fell with the phantom echo of rage. Shards crunched under his boots as he shifted forward and drove the bat one last time through the mangled heap, leaving it jutting out there like a stake.

The house had gone silent again, save for the faint crackle of broken wood settling.

Eddie pushed off the wall, sauntering closer, eyes hungrily drinking Steve in- his flushed face, the fury still simmering in his face, the strength in every line of his body. He didn’t try to soothe him. Didn’t try to take the bat away. Just stood beside him, their shoulders brushing, his grin crooked and reverent.

“Fuckin’ beautiful.” Eddie whispered, low enough that it was only meant for their ears, fangs grazing over the words.

Silence stretched, heavy and humming, broken only by the creak of wood shifting under its wounds. He stood over the wreckage, chest heaving, eyes still bright with that dangerous light. Then, with a sharp exhale, he reached back down and ripped the bat free from the mangled frame, nails screaming as they tore loose from wood and canvas.

He gave the ruined heap a few more savage blows- two, three, four- each strike echoing off the walls like thunderclaps, until there was nothing left to break but dust and shards. His snarl softened into a grim smile, satisfaction pooling low and dark through the bond for Eddie to feel.

Without a word, Steve turned on his heels, bat balanced in his grip like it was an extension of himself. He reached out, caught Eddie’s hand, and tugged. There was no room for argument in the force of it; Eddie followed willingly, lips curled into a wolfish grin as pride and hunger twisted inside him.

They moved down the hall, heavy boot covered footsteps crunching faintly on the trail of glass Steve had left behind. His grip never wavered, even as he pushed open the heavy door to his father’s office.

The room smelled of leather, paper, and dust. Of old money and old rules. Every surface, once polished, now had some coasting of dust on it. Every book lined up just so, every drawer no doubt stuffed with secrets Steve had never been meant to touch. The air felt thick, oppressive, as if his father’s presence still lingered here.

Steve stood in the center of it, eyes roaming over the pristine order, the smug silence of the room. He spun the bat in his hand once, nails catching a glint of the dim morning light, his mouth twisting into something feral.

Eddie was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely over his chest, drinking in the sight of him. He didn’t move to stop him. Didn’t offer suggestions or meaningful words. He just watched, feeding a steady pulse of proud of you, baby. Tear it down. Make it yours through the bond, his grin sharp enough to cut.

The office was waiting, untouched and heavy with the weight of everything Steve hated.

He marched around the desk, eyes locked on the massive ornate chair- his father’s throne he had custom built just for his office. Carved from dark wood, the leather accents polished and smug. His lips curled. He could still see himself small in front of it, every memory etched into his bones.

Three years old, hands clasped behind him like some type of soldier, standing across from the desk staring up with wide eyes while his father’s voice cut sharp. “Steven, I was informed today that your babysitter brought over dolls for you to play with … That. Will not be happening again. No son of mine will act like some sissy.” The sound of the belt sliding from its loops still made his stomach knot and churn.

Four years old, a too-heavy cast on his arm, staring down at his socks while his father yelled at him from across the desk, his mother’s shrill voice drifting in from down the hall. All over a carpet, a white carpet easily cleaned, but ‘ruined’ by his blood. All because the cast was too heavy, and he had fallen, smacking face first onto the floor. The two baby teeth he’d left behind hadn’t mattered at all.

Five years old and in pain. Holding what he’d later find out was a broken wrist, again. Trembling so hard he could barely stand upright. He couldn’t even remember what he’d done wrong that time- just the pain, and the certainty that no one cared. That, maybe, they were just angry for him existing.

So of course he was never allowed in the office. He was only ever brought in here if he’d done something wrong, or to be ‘corrected’ as his father called it. The office had never been a room of pride. Never once had he stepped in here to hear good job or we’re proud of you. No, it had been a courtroom, and he was always always guilty.

And he tried, and would have continued to burn out trying to do anything for his parents approval if he hadn’t received the reality check he so desperately needed.

He could still remember Hopper, years ago, still a deputy then, pulling him aside. Hopper who never sugar coated a damn thing. “Son, nothing you do will ever be good enough for people like them. Not you, not all the money in the world. It’s just who they are.” It had been the closest thing to mercy anyone had ever given him.

Steve blinked, his throat right, his grip around the bat so hard the metal whined. He felt Eddie at the edge of the room, the pride and fury in their bond washing over him like a tide, steadying him.

The room had been his father’s fortress. His courtroom. His throne.

But it had been Steve’s battlefield.

He twisted the bat once, nails glinting in the strips of light spilling between the curtains. They cut cruel and sharp, waiting. His jaw tightened, teeth bared into something feral- something that wasn’t quite a smile so much as a warning.

“Not anymore.”

He raised the bat high, arms trembling with the force of how tightly he held it, the metal creaking beneath his hands- but for one suspended moment, he hesitated.

The throne sat across from him, silent and smug, the same way it had always been. A looming monument to everything he’d been forced to endure. Dark polished wood carved into unnecessary flourishes, a seat of power that was designed to intimidate. Leather stretched taut over the high back and broad seat, studded with brass rivets that glinted like watchful eyes. It was built to outlast, to command respect, to swallow a boy whole. It had always felt later than life, ruling over his childhood.

For years, he had stood in front of it with his head bowed, spine locked straight, hands behind his back- his father towering above him in judgement. It wasn’t a chair. It had never been just a chair. It was a throne. It was a threat.

Every muscle in him vibrated with tension, the bat quivering faintly in his grip as though it, too, was waiting for release.

He bared his teeth.

And then he swung.

The first strike ripped through the armrest with a deafening crack, so loud it echoed off the walls, splinters exploding outward like shrapnel. Nails tore deep, wood fibers shrieking as they split apart. He didn’t spare a glance to watch them scatter around the once polished floor- he only ripped the bat free and brought it down again. Harder.

This time the nails bit into the carved wood of the backrest, tearing through the highback carved scrollwork, destroying the ornate designs his father had paid a fortune for. Chunks of designs, curves, and flourishes shattered beneath him, the bat gouging crude jagged scars into the polished surface.

Again.

And again.

The bat was just an extension of him. Each swing rang up through his bones, reverberated up his arms until they started to ache, not using his full strength to prolong the destruction. Metal shrieked as it burrowed into wood. Leather screamed as it split, brass rivets popped free and skittered across the floor. The chair groaned beneath the onslaught as though it knew it was dying, the sounds sudden and ugly.

His breath came sharp, ragged, snarls tearing out of him with each strike. He ripped the bat free and slammed it down again, over and over, until the backrest cracked straight down the center with a jagged, splintering snap.

Still.

Not enough.

With a deep guttural sound, Steve planted his boot against the fractured wood and stomped. The crack splintered wider, echoing through the office like a gunshot. He stomped again, harder this time, the crack deepening, spiderwebbing, until the top half of the throne broke loose and toppled to the floor with a crash that sent dust flying into the air.

But he didn’t stop.

He turned and swung the bat into the fallen pieces, nails crunching through wood, scattering fragments across the floor. Each strike sent debris flying- chips of wood, curls of leather, stuffing ripped out trying to cling to the nails. Sweat dampened his hairline, but he hardly noticed; he only knew the rhythm of destruction, the burning catharsis of each impact.

He hacked the seat into tattered bits, nails ripping open the leather cushion letting sudden bursts of stuffing puff out into the air, white fluff falling back to the floor like snow. He brought the bat back down again and again into the wreckage, gouging the leather until it was unrecognizable, until the wooden frame beneath it finally buckled and collapsed.

Steve let out a deep breath. His entire body thrummed with the need to keep going. He stomped down on what had been an armrest, his boot grinding until the wood shrieked and snapped into rough jagged halves. He crushed one of the broken legs under his heel until it splintered apart.

By the time he finally slowed, the throne wasn’t a throne any longer. It wasn’t even a chair. It was debris. Shards and tatters scattered across the once pristine office floor, nothing left of its former power. A ruin.

He stood there panting, chest heaving, bat still clutched in his hands. Sweat shone along his temple, hair sticking to his forehead, lips curled somewhere between a snarl and a grin. His entire body thrummed with fury spent, with release, with something raw and unshakable.

And through it all- Eddie hadn’t looked away.

He’d leaned back against the doorframe as soon as Steve lifted the bat, eyes sharp, heart thudding. Watching him unleash hell wasn’t frightening- it was mesmerizing, like watching him tear into the guards at the lab.

Every swing was another chair broken, another scar scrubbed out of the walls of this house. Eddie could almost see the boy Steve had been, small and trembling before that throne, and then see the man standing in his place now, beating the past into dust.

It was violent, yes, but it wasn’t cruelty. It was reclamation. It was Steve taking back what had been stolen from him. And Eddie’s chest burned with pride so fierce it almost hurt.

When Steve planted his boot and split the throne in two, Eddie couldn’t help it- his lips curled into a wild grin. He wanted to cheer him on, to growl, to tell Steve how fucking magnificent he is. But he stayed quiet, let Steve have the roar of destruction all to himself.

By the time Steve had finally stilled, standing over the wreckage with his chest heaving, Eddie could hardly breathe. His boy was sweat-soaked, glowing with adrenaline, a predator at rest now that the kill was finished. Eddie’s fingers itched to grab him, to kiss him, to tell him he was the most beautiful thing Eddie had ever seen.

Instead, he only let the silence stretch, let Steve stand victorious over the ruins. And in Eddie’s eyes, that wasn’t just a throne lying in pieces. It was every time Steve had been told he wasn’t enough. Every time he’d been punished instead of comforted. Every sharp edge of his childhood smashed into splinters.

Steve Harrington had won.

And Eddie Munson was ready to worship him for it.

And then Steve moved.

He spun on his heels, eyes blazing, and stalked straight toward Eddie. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t give himself a chance to cool down. He tossed the bat aside with a clatter that made the floorboards tremble, grabbed Eddie by the front of his shirt, and yanked him in.

Their mouths collide in a fierce, desperate kiss. No finesse, no hesitation- just raw hunger, the echo of violence still humming through Steve’s veins pouring into the kiss. His hands fisted tight in fabric, dragging Eddie closer, chest to chest, like he couldn’t stand any distance between them.

Eddie let him, leaned into it too, pride and heat flooding back through the bond like wildfire. He didn’t break the kiss as his hands slid down, gripping tight around Steve’s thighs before hauling him up like he weighed nothing.

Steve let out a muffled gasp against Eddie’s lips, arms flying around his shoulders as his legs instinctively wrapped around Eddie’s hips. He groaned softly, all he could feel was Eddie- his hands, his mouth, his heat pressing closer and closer as Eddie stalked back backwards toward the desk.

The heavy wood shook when Eddie set him down hard on the edge, lips never leaving his, the kiss was manic, messy. Teeth clashed, tongues sliding, a battle of dominance neither of them actually wanted to win.

His claws slipped free, scraping hot tracks over Eddie’s back, poking beneath his shirt, fabric tearing with the sound of shredding cotton. Eddie growled into the kiss, answering in kind, his own claws raking across Steve’s ribs, not enough to hurt but enough to sting, to leave a burning reminder of where he touched. Claws ripping through his shirt.

Then Eddie’s hand shot up, tangling in Steve’s hair. He yanked his head back with a sharp tug, Steve’s hiss breaking loose as his throat arched beautifully, skin bared. His eyes fluttered, rolling back for a moment, lips parting in a soundless gasp at the harsh grip.

Eddie didn’t wait.

With a low, guttural sound, he leaned in and sank his fangs deep into Steve’s neck.

The world went white-hot.

Steve let out a keening whine that melted quickly into a loud, unabashed moan as the bite tore through him, pleasure flooding through every nerve. His legs tightened around Eddie’s hips, pulling him flush against him, grinding down against the hard line pressing between them.

Eddie’s growl vibrated into his throat as he drank- greedy, messy gulps of blood that was still thrumming with adrenaline, cooper-sweet and alive with the storm Steve had unleashed moments before. Blood pilling past his lips, down his chin, his own neck.

The bond flared like wildfire, sparks of Steve’s pleasure and rage and release bleeding straight into Eddie until he was dizzy with it.

Eddie pulled back at last, his lips and chin smeared dark, his breath ragged though he didn’t need it. He licked slowly, deliberately, over the punctures, sealing them shut with a tenderness that clashed beautifully against the savagery of the bite. Steve’s head lolled back down a second, lips red from biting them, breathless and boneless on the desk, his nails digging blunt crescents into Eddie’s shoulders.

Then Eddie caught his jaw, dragging him forward, and crushed their mouths back together.

Steve moaned into the kiss at the coppery tang- his own blood coating Eddie’s tongue, slick between them. He shuddered, a sound halfway between a sob and a whine escaping as Eddie bit at his lip, forcing him to taste every last drop.

Eddie broke away just far enough to growl against his lips, voice gravel-thick. “Fuck, Stevie.. You’re so hot like this. So fucking beautiful. You taste-” He kissed him again, rough, greedy. “-like everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He let out a high, helpless whine at the words, his whole body trembling now, strung taut between the praise, the blood, and the burn of claws still skating across his skin.

“Mine.” Eddie rasped against his mouth, possessive, reverent, and desperate all at once.

And Steve- arching against him, shivering at every word- could only nod, gasping into Eddie’s mouth. “Yours.”

Eddie’s responding growl vibrated between their lips as he kissed Steve again, rougher this time, hands roaming like he couldn’t get enough. Steve clung back just as fiercely, his claws now dragging down Eddie’s back in stuttering lines, earring another seam in his shirt.

The desk beneath them groaned under their combined strength, wood creaking too close to splintering where Steve’s heels dug into it, where Eddie braced one hand to keep himself steady as he devoured Steve’s mouth.

Every brush of tongue, every clash of teeth was too much and still not enough. Steve’s fingers slipped into Eddie’s curls, tugging him closer, pulling sharp at his scalp until Eddie groaned against his lips, hips pressing forward in an unthinking, instinctual grind.

“Goddamn it, Stevie.” Eddie panted against his skin, lips smeared crimson, voice thick and raw as he nosed along Steve’s jaw, down to his throat again, the echo of the bite throbbing there. His tongue traced over it, slow and taunting, before his fangs scraped deliberately over the sealed punctures. “You don’t even know what you do to me sweetheart.”

He shuddered, a sharp whine caught in his chest, his head tipping back against Eddie’s hold like he’d give himself all over again. He looked wild like this- eyes bright, lips swollen, blood smeared between them. His fingers clutched at Eddie’s shoulders now, nails breaking skin, dragging over muscle like he wanted the marks to stay.

He swallowed thickly, voice low and rough when it finally came. “Then show me. Don’t just say it Eds. Show me.”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth curled, feral and tender all at once. His thumb swept roughly over Steve’s cheek, smudging blood there like war paint. He leaned down, kissing him again- slowly this time, agonizingly so, like he was memorizing every shape of his mouth, every taste of copper and salt and Steve. When he pulled back ,his forehead pressed hard to Steve’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, so low it was almost a rumble, “you think I’ll ever stop showing you?”

His answering smile was shaky but sharp, his teeth catching his bottom lip before he dragged Eddie back into another brutal kiss. His thighs tightened around Eddie’s hips, keeping him close, refusing to let him step back even if he wanted to.

The ruined office around them seemed to fade- the shattered throne, the scattered wood, the destruction born of years of pent up rage. None of it mattered right now. All that existed was this: Eddie’s claws biting into Steve’s waist, Steve’s blood still slick between their mouths, and the bond screaming how much they wanted, how much they needed, how much they already were.

It wasn’t a confession. Not in words. But in every punishing kiss, in every scrape of teeth and pull of hair, in every ragged sound wrenched from both of their throats, it was written louder than anything spoken aloud could be.

And neither of them needed to say it. Not yet.

Not when it was already etched into every touch.

---

He groaned, running his fingers through still-damp hair, staring at the wreckage that was once his father’s pristine office. “Munson, if I have a bite mark left on my ass I’m gonna be so annoyed.”

Eddie, still shirtless, towel slung haphazardly around his neck, leaned lazily against the cracked doorframe with a grin sharp enough to cut. “Annoyed, huh?” His eyes flicked down, brazen and unashamed. “You were making some very different noises when I put it there.”

Steve shot him a look over his shoulder, trying for unimpressed, but the faint flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. He shifted his weight, the movement pulling faint at his muscles- remnants of deep scratched and teeth still etched red against his pale skin, even after she shower. Some marks clung, stubborn, healing slower because of the ease of the bond, because neither of them had been exactly gentle.

“Yeah, well,” Steve muttered, tugging at the hem of his clean shirt, before tossing the one over his shoulder at Eddie. Watching unabashed as Eddie pulled it on. He turned, eyes tracing the lightly scratched desk, the throne’s remains scattered like bones, the claw marks carved into the paneling.

He huffed out a laugh, humorless but not without satisfaction. “This place smells like sweat, blood, and… Us.” His mouth curved, feral pride softening into something closer to relief.

“Good. Let it.” Eddie pushed off the frame, crossing the room with easy, loose-hipped strides until he was behind Steve. His hands slid around his waist, sliding under Steve’s shirt, palms pressing warm over the faint bite scars on his ribs. He ducked his head to nip gently at the still-tender mark blooming at the curve of his neck, humming low in his throat at the way Steve shivered under it.

“Let me,” Eddie echoed against his skin, voice velvet soft. “Let every inch of this cursed house smell like us. Like you. Not anyone else.”

Steve tilted his head slightly, eyes slipping half-shut. His hand reached back to clutch Eddie’s hip, grounding himself in the weight at his back. The bond hummed warm and electric, thrumming with possession and quiet joy, tangled through with exhaustion.

For a long while, they just stood there in the quiet wreckage, Steve’s chest rising and falling slowly, Eddie’s head hooked over his shoulder, breathing him in.

“...Still gonna be pissed if there’s a mark on my ass.” He said at last, lips twitching.

Eddie’s laugh was laugh and wicked in his head. “Oh, sweetheart. If there isn’t one, I’ll just have to put another there.”

Steve’s answering groan was half annoyance, half laugh, the sound bouncing off the broken walls like something cleansing.

After a few beats of calm silence he casually broke it again, leaning his head back to look at Eddie. “You think Wayne might want the desk if we clean it up? It’s pretty expensive… Actually, anything he wants here he can have.”

Eddie blinked at him, then barked out a laugh, muffled against Steve’s shoulder as he shook his head. “Sweetheart, I don’t think Wayne’s gonna want a desk that he knows we fucked on.” His grin was wicked, but his tone softened as he added, “Not that he’d take anything from this mausoleum even if it was spotless. Man hates the Harrington name almost as much as you do.”

He snorted, letting his head tip forward, chin brushing his chest. “Yeah. Guess you’re right. Just… Feels better thinking he could take something. Something good.” He glanced back over the room, at the shredded leather, the claw-marked walls, the desk ripped beyond recognition. “Though maybe there isn't anything good left in here.”

Eddie’s arms tightened around him from behind, a squeeze that was grounding rather than playful. “Wrong. There’s us. And that’s worth more than any of this overpriced crap.” His words were quiet, but there was steel underneath, conviction that bled through their bond and pressed warm against Steve’s chest.

He swallowed, the corner of his mouth twisting up despite himself. “You’re really proud of yourself for saying that, aren’t you?”

“Hell yeah, I am.” Eddie grinned into his neck. Sharp teeth grazing just enough to make Steve shiver. “Sounded pretty profound, didn’t it? I’m actually a poet.”

Steve laughed- really laughed- and the sound felt like it cracked something open inside him. “Idiot.”

“Yours.” Eddie shot back instantly, the words almost too quick, like it spilled past before he could stop it. But he didn’t take it back either.

He stilled, the laugh softening into a quieter smile, his heart giving a strange, heavy thump in his chest that had nothing to do with blood. He didn’t say anything about it, not yet, just turned in Eddie’s arms, lifting his bat loosely in one hand. “C’mon. I’m not done redecorating yet.”

Eddie’s grin turned feral again, watching Steve twirl the weapon, his boyfriend bathed in the golden midday light, and fury. “That’s my boy. Where to next?”

He looked around the office, jaw set. “I think I’ll let Wayne decide what he wants from here before I continue so..” He nods once. “Their bedroom.”

Their fingers laced together, palms pressed tight, as he tugged Eddie along out of the office and up the stairs. Steps near silent despite the weight of them, the house hushed except for the groan of wood under their steps.

Steve didn’t speak as he walked down the hall, his grip sure. Eddie’s chest ached watching him- feral and beautiful, rage burning in his veins but still holding onto Eddie like an anchor. The set of his shoulders, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his nostrils flared as though he could still smell his parent’s absence lingering in the wallpaper, it said enough.

His other hand twirling the bat with an almost casual grace, nails glinting in the light like the teeth of some monster made flesh. Eddie bit back a groan, his lips pulling into a wicked smile. He’d never get over it- the sight of Steve Harrington, his golden boy, twirling a weapon like it was just an extension of his body, fury coiled tight under his skin and yet… His other hand was holding Eddie’s like it was a lifeline. The mix of savagery and tenderness had Eddie’s chest tight, his throat rough, his whole body humming.

Steve shoved open the double doors at the end of the hall with a single, violent swing, the bang against the walls echoing down the empty corridor. He stepped into the sterile perfection of his parents bedroom, gaze sweeping over the pristine, cold perfection. Untouched. Staged. As lifeless as a department store window.

The bed was enormous, dominating the space with its ostentatious carved headboard, polished until it shone. The air smelled faintly of cedar and mothballs, like the place had been staged for strangers, not lived in. But Wayne had kept up cleaning, even in here.

“Perfect.” He muttered in disgust, smirking as he twirled the bar again, letting the nails whistle through the air, knowing exactly the effect it had on Eddie. With one last squeeze to Eddie’s hand, he let go, stalking over to the bed, eyes locked on the headboard as though it were an enemy.

He stopped at the edge of the bed staring. The ridiculous carved headboard- gilded wood polished within an inch of its life, looming over him like a crown. His lips curled in disgust.

He raised the bat in both hands.

Then brought it down with an inhuman strength. Not needing to take his time with this one.

The crack that echoed was deafening. Wood split straight down the middle, nails tearing through wood as if it were nothing but paper. Steve snarled but didn’t pause, yanking the bat free, and swung again, this time at an angle. A chunk of the carvings went flying, splinters flying across the floor.

Again. And again. His arms blurring with a speed and strength only they possessed. He wanted it gone. Each blow was savage, fueled by years of silence, of being made small. Each hit sent shards flying, gouges tearing through the delicate carvings his parents had ‘loved’ so much.

He didn’t stop- he struck over and over until the headboard groaned, cracked, and bent inward under the force of his rage, caving with a thunderous snap. He still didn’t stop- he struck the remains of the headboard until the once perfect wood was nothing but a mess of sharp jutting scraps.

His chest heaved, though he knew in the back of his mind he didn’t necessarily need to breathe. It was almost ritualistic now. His eyes gleamed in the dim light, feral and focused, and Eddie swore he’d never seen anything more devastatingly beautiful.

Then he dropped the bat for just a second, seized the mattress with both hands, and heaved. His muscles flexed, veins standing out in his forearms, and with a flick of his wrist sent the mattress flying sideways. It crashed into the wall with a resounding thud, metal springs shrieking as they burst through the fabric and snapped. Dust and feathers puffed into the air like smoke.

The bed frame, now bare, seemed to mock Steve. He growled low in his throat, snatched the bat back up again, and went to work. He swung with unnatural speed, nails screaming as they tore through beams of oak. Each strike sent vibrations rattling up his arms, the crack and splinters of wood filling the room like drumbeats. When one thick crossbeam refused to give, he slammed his heel onto it, once, twice, until it split in two with a sickening crunch.

He continued on like a storm- splinters flying, wood breaking under his strokes and stomps, the bat slamming down again and again until the bed was nothing but fragments littering the floor. He smashed the sideboards into jagged shards, stomped them until they cracked into splinters small enough to scatter like kindling.

By the end, the once-grand bed was a ruin of shattered wood and torn fabric, unrecognizable as furniture. No longer the staged perfect model room his mother had left behind. Shards, splinters, stuffing, the smells of dust and destruction was hanging heavy.

Steve stood in the middle of it all, hair wild, chest rising and falling in sharp bursts, eyes bright with fury, the bat still clenched in his hands. He gave one last vicious swing into what remained of the frame before finally stilling, leaving the bat buried there, nails jutting out like claws in the wreckage.

Eddie hadn’t moved, just stood at the threshold, arms crossed, watching him with that molten look of pride and hunger all tangled together. He let out a low whistle. “Holy, shit Harrington. Remind me never to piss you off.”

He turned his head, smirk tugging at his lips again, “Too late,” he said, voice low, teasing- but under it was the thrum of something raw, a boy who had finally taken something back.

---

They stood in the living room, gazes sweeping over the ruins they’d carved out of the house. The air was thick with barely there dust and the sharp tang of splintered wood, curtains hanging crooked, feathers from the couch cushions floating lazily to the floor like snow. Eddie had taken great pleasure in taking his claws through the stiff couch, shredding it down to the frame until it sagged in on itself.

The armchairs, though, had been carefully pushed aside for Wayne, who Steve insisted deserved something, the only comfortable thing from this place. Besides his new bed of course.

Steve had gone at everything else with unrestrained satisfaction. Every ugly pillar was cracked down the middle, every vase atop it or porcelain trinket his mother had cooed over was smashed to powder. The walls were bare of frames now, shards of gilt wood scattered across the carpet. Every bit of decor his mother ‘loved’, he’d taken a sadistic pleasure in destroying it.

Even the chandelier drooped, chair half-severed, crystals hanging precariously.

Now the rage was gone, burned out of him. What was left was the deep pleasant ache of release.

He was dragged over Eddie’s shoulder, body loose and heavy like a cat sprawling in a patch of sun. He pressed a gentle kiss into the curve of Eddie’s neck before letting his chin rest there, warm and comfortable. Eddie shifted his weight just enough to steady him, one hand circling instinctively around Steve’s thigh, the other dangling lazily at his side.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. The house creaked in the silence, settling around the violence they’d left behind. The bond between them hummed low, calm now, no longer bussing with fury- just soft waves of shared exhaustion and satisfaction, soothing where it lapped against both of them.

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh, letting his hand smooth absentmindedly up the back of Steve’s leg. “Gotta say, sweetheart… Think I like your version of interior design much better.”

He made a low noise, not quite a laugh, not quite a hum, his nose still buried against Eddie’s skin. His lips moved lazily against Eddie’s throat as he muttered, “Yeah. Less.. Porcelain swans. More broken glass. Real homey.”

Eddie grinned, eyes crinkling as he tipped his head to kiss Steve’s temple. The faint dust in the air caught in Steve’s hair, flecks of it sparkling faintly in the low light. For the first time in a long time, the Harrington house was starting to feel like Steve’s house- not a monument to someone else’s control, but a place marked by their hands, their claws, them.

Eddie rocked them side to side just slightly, slow and lazy, like they were dancing to music only they could hear. Steve’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding on, not because he needed to- but because he wanted to.

Eddie shifted them both, lowering them into what was left of half the couch. The frame groaned but held, rough edges poking out where his claws had torn the fabric. Steve slid down from his shoulder, sprawling half across Eddie’s lap without complaint. His head tipped back against Eddie’s chest, throat bared, eyes half-lidded and heavy.

For a long stretch, neither of them moved. The house was quiet- eerily so, as though even the walls held their breath after the storm of violence. Old dust floated through the air like pale embers, catching the dim light.

He traced absent shapes over Eddie’s forearm where it rested around his waist. Every so often he tilted his head, brushing his cheek against Eddie’s jaw, not needing words, just contact. Eddie absently combed his fingers through Steve’s partially dried hair, working out tangles without thought.

“Looks better already.” Eddie muttered finally, voice lazy, amused. His gaze wandered across the gutted living room- the couch reduced to kindling, the walls stripped of frames leaving faint outlines in the walls, porcelain crushed to powders across a rug. “Could hang a neon sign in here. Maybe some velvet posters. Really tie the room together.”

He snorted, too tired to laugh properly. “You’d hang bats on the walls.”

“Damn right I would.” Eddie tilted his head down, pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Bats, maybe one of those velvet tigers too. Can’t forget the classics.”

He rolled his eyes, but the bond thrummed warm where their minds brushed. He was comfortable- safe- and Eddie felt it like it was his own heartbeat.

The silence now was deeper, softer. Outside, the crickets had begun to sing, and the house’s destruction seemed smaller, quieter in comparison, like it had been swallowed into the early evening.

Steve shifted slightly, arms sliding across Eddie’s chest as he curled closer, his breath ghosting warm over Eddie’s skin. Eddie leaned his head back, just breathing him, letting the lazy weight of Steve against him settle in his bones.

“This place…” He murmured finally, voice thick with exhaustion. “Doesn’t feel like theirs anymore.”

Eddie’s lips curved, slow and certain. “Good.” He pressed his mouth to the crown of Steve’s head, lingering there.

The sun had begun its slow descent, painting long amber streaks across the wrecked living room. Dust motes only they could see floated lazily in the light, catching in the rough edges of the couch where claws had town deep. Steve shifted slightly in Eddie’s lap, letting his cheek rest against the curve of Eddie’s shoulder now as he wiggled to get comfortable. Eddie’s fingers absentmindedly threading through his hair, slow, soothing, almost meditative.

Neither of them spoke for a long while. The quiet was a blanket, soft and comforting. He let out a low contented hum, his thumb brushing along Eddie’s arm. Eddie responded with the slightest squeeze around Steve’s waist, their fingers moving, entwining without thought, just habit now. They were still, suspended in a moment that felt eternal, the chaos of the living room around them barely registering.

Eventually, the weight of the day and their exhaustion began to press in.

Steve stirred first, stretching out with a languid groan, his body rolling forward against Eddie’s chest. Eddie shifted, offering a steady hand to help push him up. But they leaned against one another for a moment longer, lingering in the comfort of touch, before Steve finally broke the quiet.

“Think we should.. Eat something?” His voice was thick with sleep and the lingering haze of their lazy afternoon sitting here.

Eddie hummed, tugging gently at Steve’s hand. “Yeah.. Something easy. Don’t feel like putting in effort, just something simple.”

He pushed off the couch slowly, muscles loose from the day’s destruction and quiet hours of relaxed closeness. Eddie followed, hand still in his, fingers curling together naturally as they moved through the rubble-strewn living room. The house smelled faintly of old wood and their own scents mixed together, but in the late sun, it felt warm, lived-in, theirs.

They padded quietly into the kitchen, bare feet soft against the floor. Steve leaned against the counter lazily, twirling a knife absentmindedly between his fingers, while Eddie opened the fridge and rummaged for ingredients. “Another grilled cheese?” Eddie suggested, already pulling out the bread, cheese, and butter.”

He gave a slow nod, smirk tugging at his lips. “Mm, perfect. Easy. Our signature meal.”

They moved together naturally, brushing shoulders as they worked, Steve buttering bread while Eddie sliced cheese. Occasionally they’d bump against each other just to feel it, small touches echoing the lazy intimacy of the afternoon. The smell of melting butter and cheese soon filled the kitchen, mingling with the faint metallic tang of their lingering closeness.

When the sandwiches were sizzling in the pan, they leaned against the counter side by side, shoulders pressed together. Eddie hummed softly under his breath, watching Steve’s eyes catch the light as he flipped a sandwich with casual precision. Steve glanced over, catching Eddie’s gaze, and a slow, fond smile curved his lips.

Once the grilled cheeses were cooling, they moved to clean up together, a quiet, gentle rhythm forming between them. Eddie washed while Steve dried, both of them occasionally purposefully brushing against each other, fingers tangling in the shared intimacy of small, domestic gestures.

Finally, with the task done, they lingered in the kitchen again, leaning against the counters with warm mugs in hand. Steve tilted his head toward Eddie, letting his shoulder rest against him. Eddie mirrored the gesture, and for a long moment they simply existed together.

They finally settled at the island with their plates, shoulders brushing as they sat close on the stools. The kitchen smelled of butter and toasted bread, the quiet between them was unhurried, comfortable, broken only by the occasional clink of a mug or the rustle of napkins.

Steve ate slowly, half-lidded eyes fixed on his sandwich, though more often than not he found his gaze drifting sideways to watch Eddie chew, the way his jaw shifted, the little hum he made when he liked something. Eddie caught him starting again, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. And Steve rolled his eyes, shoving another bite in just to cover it.

When their plates were mostly empty, he leaned back with a sudden, dramatic huff, cradling his mug in both hands. He took a slow sip, eyes unfocused as he stared across the kitchen. Eddie quirked a brow at him, tilting his head like a cat who’d just caught sight of something strange.

“What’s that sigh about, Harrington?” Eddie drawled, nudging Steve’s knee with his own.

He didn’t answer right away. Just traced the rim of his mug with his thumb, watching the faint curl of steam rise. Finally, he exhaled and muttered, “Since we agreed we’d y’know, talking more… I guess I should tell you..”

Eddie leaned in, interest sharp, though his expression stayed easy, open. “Tell me what?”

“...I had this.. Dream.” Steve started, lips pressing thin. “Early this morning. It was.. Weird.” He paused, as if sorting through the fragments. “We were both there, running. From something- I don’t know if it was someone or just… Something? It felt like it was closing in. And then there was this.. Cliff? I don’t even know if it was real or if it was some subconscious metaphor type thing, but… You pushed me off it.”

Eddie stilled, expression unreadable, though his grip on his mug tightened just slightly.

His voice dropped, quieter, brow furrowing as though he could still feel the phantom air rushing past him. “You said you were sorry right before. And then there was this sound- a gunshot, maybe?- and you were just… Gone.” He huffed again, frustrated, and ran a hand through his hair. “Then I woke up.”

The kitchen went still. The only sound was the hum of the fridge, the faint ticking of the cooling pan on the stove. Steve leaned his elbows on the counter, staring down at the faint ring his mug had left, waiting.

“Steve.. You know I’d ne-”

“I know.” Steve cut in quickly, too quickly, shaking his head as though he could wave away the thought. “I know you wouldn’t. It was just a weird dream or.. I don’t know, a nightmare? But I know you wouldn’t do that, Eds.”

Eddie’s mouth pressed into a thin line. He angled on his stool to face Steve fully, one hand coming to rest on the counter near his. “Hey,” he said softly, the teasing edge in his voice gone. “I don’t like the look on your face, sweetheart. What’re you really feeling?”

He exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping. “It just… It felt so real, Eds. The falling. Your hand slipping out of mine. The way it sounded, the way it.. Ended.” He scrubbed a palm over his face, muffling his voice against it. “I woke up feeling like I’d actually lost you.”

Eddie’s chest tightened at that. He reached over, gently tugging Steve’s hand away from his face and lacing their fingers together. His thumb dragging slow circles across Steve’s knuckles. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I’m sorry your mind gave you that, that you thought it was real.” His eyes softened, concern heavy but not pitying. “But you didn’t lose me, Stevie. And you won’t.”

Steve risked a glance at him, pupils wide in the dim light. Eddie gave him a crooked smile, a little tired but fierce underneath. “And if we’re being honest? If there was a cliff, I’d be dragging your ass off it with me before I ever pushed you.”

That startled a laugh out of Steve- shirt, sharp, but real. He ducked his head, shaking it. “Yeah, that sounds more like you.”

“Damn right.” Eddie squeezed his hand. “If one of us goes, we both go. Not in some Romeo and Juliet way, but..” He shrugged, smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not doing this whole undead existence without you. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

Steve’s throat worked suddenly dry, the bond between them humming warm with the depth of what Eddie left unsaid. He turned their hands over, squeezing back. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Same.”

They sat there for a beat, foreheads nearly touching over the counter, mugs cooling at their elbows, the room awash in the fading orange light of sunset. He traced the Hellfire logo slowly over the countertop with his free hand, still holding tight to Eddie’s with the other. The dream clung to him, heavy in his chest. But Eddie’s warmth pressed back steady against it.

“It’s dumb.” He murmured after a while, almost embarrassed by his own voice. “It was just a dream. I know that. But I can’t shake the look on your face, when you let go.”

Eddie’s jaw flexed. He leaned closer, eyes never leaving Steve’s. “Then let me place it,” he said simply. “Every time you think of it, I’ll be here to remind you I’m not going anywhere.”

He blinked, behind his eyes suddenly stinging. He huffed out a quiet laugh, but it cracked. “You sound so damn sure.”

“That’s because I am.” Eddie answered without hesitation. His thumb pressing firmer against Steve’s knuckles, grounding him. “We’ve been through hell already. What’s one nightmare stacked against all the shit we’ve survived? They couldn’t break us when they had us chained up, Stevie. You think some dream version of me stands a chance?”

Steve let out a shaky breath, lips quirking. “When you put it like that…”

Eddie grinned at him, soft and lopsided, the kind of grin that tugged something deep inside Steve. Then this tone gentled. “But I do hate that your mind went there. Makes me wonder if you’ve got more rattling around in there you’re not telling me.”

He hesitated, gaze dropping to their hands. “...It’s not the first time I’ve had dreams like that.” He admitted. “Different stuff, not always the same, and it's been more frequent recently. But it’s been.. You’ve been gone or.. I was alone or.. Just me not being able to get to you in time.” He swallowed, shoulders rising and falling slowly. “I think part of me’s still waiting for the rug to get pulled out. Like none of this can last, and it's showing up in my dreams.”

Eddie’s smile faded, but the pride in his eyes for the admission didn’t. He turned, scooting his stool closer until their knees knocked together. “Then that part of you is dead wrong.” His voice had an edge of steel, protective and unyielding. “You’ve got me. And no dream- no nightmare, no memory, no parent, no monster- nothing, is ever gonna take me from you. That’s a promise.”

Steve met his gaze, the bond between them sparking warm, steady reassurance through the undercurrent of unease. For the first time since waking that morning, the tension in his shoulders eased. He gave a small nod, lips twitching into a faint smile.

“...Okay.” He whispered.

“Okay.” Eddie echoed, just as quiet, brushing his thumb over Steve’s hand again.

They sat in the silence that followed for a long while, breathing each other in, the weight of the dream slowly dissolving in the glow of the kitchen light and Eddie’s unrelenting certainty.

Eddie kept watching him, thumb rubbing slow circles into the back of his hand, the warmth of the bond carrying calm even if Steve’s thoughts still rippled unevenly.

After a beat Eddie tilted his head, voice low, like he didn’t want to break whatever fragile peace they’d built up. “How long do you think it’ll take Wayne to get ahold of Owens… I think the sooner we have a story out and can move freely, the sooner you’ll feel more at ease and the dreams might stop.”

He leaned back against the stool, shoulders sagging in a shrug. “Shouldn’t take long. He’s got Owens’s person number, and Owens… Well, he actually likes Wayne. I figure he’ll pick up right away.” He rubbed at his jaw, eyes narrowing in thought. “But…” He trailed off, his lips twisting up.

Eddie nudged him with his knee. “But?”

Steve sighed, finally meeting his eyes. “I don’t know how long it’ll take to get an actual meeting. Or how long until they can put something out about us. Last time, it was fast, but..” He gestured vaguely with one hand, grimacing. “Everyone was already expecting one. People were watching, waiting for an explanation, willing to accept anything. This time, we’ve been… Gone. Quiet. That’ll make it trickier.”

Eddie hummed, tapping his blunt nails lightly against the countertop, the faint scratch of them against marble sharp in the stillness. “So, basically- sit tight, wait for the bureaucrats to spin their webs?”

“Pretty much.” He dragged a hand through his messy hair, rolling his eyes. “Owens is good, but he’s still gotta deal with the rest of ‘em. And we don’t exactly fit neatly into the file folder anymore, you know? It’s.. We’re… Different now.”

Different. That hung between them, heavy but not unwelcome. Eddie tilted his head, a smirk tugging faintly at his lips. “Different’s one word for it.” His gaze softened. “Better’s another.”

His lips twitched into a half-smile despite himself, the tension in his shoulders loosening a fraction.

---

They spent the rest of the evening cleaning up the mess they’d made, though ‘cleaning’ was a generous word. Everything fragile or gaudy that they’d smashed got swept into one corner of the living room- splintered frames, shattered glass, porcelain shards glinting dully under the low light.

Eddie made a game out of clawing apart what was left of the couch until it drooped to the floor like a gutted beast, the fabric barely hanging on around its shredded frame.

The wood though, only some of it was put into a pile. The rest, Steve decided, needed to burn. He needed it gone. So they’d carried out the remnants of his fathers expensive throne, deciding it was the first to go. The mattress and most of the larger pieces would wait for another time, when there was less risk of smoke drawing attention.

But right now there were no neighbors close enough to see, no curious eyes, just the open dark and the faint rustle of trees in the distance. Though they made sure to keep a nose and ear out for any curious Demogorgons, or soldiers.

Steve built the small fire with inhuman ease, his movements steady, practiced like this wasn’t his first time setting flame to something he needed gone. The fire caught quickly, greedy orange-red flames curling up and licking across the blackening wood. The crack and pop of the wood filled the silence, the smoke trailing high into the dark sky.

They settled onto a pool louder they’d dragged over near the fire pit. He stretched himself across Eddie’s lap, Eddie’s arms holding steady around his waist, chin hooked over Steve’s shoulder, breath brushing faintly against his neck. The bond hummed low and warm between them, they were relaxed, happy, comfortable.

For the first time in days, Steve finally felt entirely relaxed- like the weight pressing against his chest had eased, if only a little. He let out a slow, quiet breath, watching the fire shift and coil, hypnotic. “Hey, Eds?” His voice was low, almost tentative.

“Hmm?” Eddie hummed, the vibration of his voice against Steve’s shoulder more felt than heard. He tightened his hold automatically, his chin rubbing gently back and forth like he couldn’t quite stop touching him.

He hesitated, then leaned back heavily into him. “I know we’ve talked a bit about it but… Could you, maybe.. Teach me some more about your game? I mean.. Dustin tried before.. Before. But it was still difficult to understand so um.. Would you.. Want to?”

For a beat, Eddie stilled. Then he straightened- subtly, carefully- though his arms stayed where they were, holding Steve in place. The bond flared, simmering bright with sudden excitement, and Steve didn’t even have to turn his head to know Eddie was grinning like an idiot.

“Dungeons and Dragons?” Eddie’s voice was hushed like it might shatter if he said it too loud, or like Steve might take back the offer. “You mean it?”

He gave a small nod, still staring at the flames. “Yeah, Eds. I mean it.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh, almost disbelieving, almost reverent. “Sweetheart,” he breathed out, kissing the side of Steve’s jaw before he could stop himself. “Of course. It would be my fucking honor.”

He could feel Eddie’s grin into his kiss, the sharp curl of it pressing faintly against his skin as the fire popped, sending sparks spiraling upward, bright pinpricks against the darkening sky. He hummed softly, letting his head tip back against Eddie’s shoulder, eyelids heavy as the warmth of the fire and Eddie’s arms around him bled together. “Figured it might be nice, y’know?” He admitted, voice low, almost shy. “Something that’s yours, something you love. I wanna understand it better.”

Eddie shifted beneath him, the lounger creaking, but his grip never wavered. Steve could feel the pulse of excitement through the bond, louder now, thrumming wild and bright like the beat of a distant drum. “Sweetheart.” Eddie pressed another kiss right under his ear this time. “You have no idea how fast you just made every nerve in my nerdy little body light up.”

He snorted, a soft laugh spilling out before he could stop it. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to me indulging your whole.. Dice thing. And I never agreed to play.”

“Dice thing.” Eddie gasped, mock offense coloring every syllable. “Oh Harrington, you wound me. They are sacred instruments, the conduit of fate itself! The very bones of which destiny lay upon!” His hands slid over Steve’s stomach, squeezing faintly as he spoke with exaggerated drama.

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t move away. If anything, he sank back further into the hold, the firelight painting his skin in shifting golds and shadow. “You’re ridiculous.” He murmured, lips twitching.

“And yet,” Eddie whispered against his throat, voice dropping into something gentler, “you’re still here. Asking me to share it with you.”

The bond pulsed again, warm and steady, like the echo of a heartbeat between them. He let his fingers drift lazily down to Eddie’s forearm, tracing the veins, the scars, the rings of pale skin where metal at once cut too deep. “I meant it,” he said quietly, watching the flames lick higher into the night. “I want to know more. About what you built, what you love.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Feels like.. If we’re building something new for us, maybe that’s part of it.”

For once, Eddie didn’t have a quick response. He just held him tighter, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm against Steve’s back. After a long stretch of silence, he finally breathed out, “Stevie… You just about killed me with that one.”

He smirked, turning his head just enough to brush his cheek against Eddie’s jaw. “Good. Means I’m doing something right.”

Eddie’s laugh was low, rough, but full of warmth. He pressed another kiss into Steve’s hair, letting his lips linger there. “Alright then, Harrington. Full detailed lessons tomorrow. I’ll even have Wayne bring over the good dice set for you. The ones that roll like molten fire and whisper secrets to their master.”

“Jesus Christ.” He groaned, but his shoulders shook faintly with suppressed laughter. “What did I sign myself up for?”

“The greatest adventure of your unlife.” Eddie declared, teeth flashing as his grin pressed against Steve’s skin.

“Mm.. Just don’t tell the kids. Don’t think Dustin even remembers trying to teach me the basics. But the rest of them, they’d be insufferable about it… Maybe not Will.” He hummed out, content as he leaned back fully against him. The fire cracked, the night stretched long and still around them.

Eddie didn’t waste another second. Once the words were out of Steve’s mouth, once he had permission, the dam broke. He shifted just slightly under Steve, making sure he was comfortable in his lap, arms still snug around his waist like he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

“Okay,” Eddie begun, his voice a low hum against the crackle of fire. “So, quick summary.. At the heart of it.. Dungeons and Dragons. At its base, its core, it’s about telling a story. You’ve got a group of people-”

“The party.” Steve interrupts.

“Mhm. The party. Each one playing a character they made up, and then there’s a Dungeon Master, or DM. That’s the guy running the whole thing, guiding the story, deciding what monsters show up, how the world works.” He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Steve’s temple. “That’s usually me.”

He tilted his head a little, eyes still on the flames but listening intently. “So you’re like.. In charge of the story?.. Dustin kind of gave me the short version then got too excited to make me a character.. Or try to. We never managed to finish one.”

“We’ll make you one sweetheart, don’t you worry. But yeah, the DM is in charge, but not the only one. The players make decisions, roll dice, and whatever they do shapes where the story goes.” Eddie’s tone softened, reverent, like the game itself was sacred to him. “It’s not about winning or losing- it’s about building something together. You create this whole other world with your friends, and you live in it for a while. Escape to it.”

He hummed quietly, considering that. “So… The dice. They’re not just for show?”

Eddie barked out a laugh, delighted not insulting. “Oh no, Stevie. The dice are everything. They decide if you succeed or fail, if you live or die, if your crazy-ass idea works or blows up in your face. You can plan all you want, but one bad roll can fuck it all up. Or-” His grin widened, teeth flashing in the firelight. “-one good roll can save your ass.”

Steve finally turned his head, squinting at him. Teasing. “So you’re telling me you let some stupid little dice control the fate of your character? Even if you’ve worked on them for a long time?”

“That’s the beauty of it,” Eddie said, his eyes burning with that manic light Steve always found himself caught by. “Every roll, every risk- it means something. It makes you feel alive. And when you do pull off something insane? When the dice fall in your favor? It’s magic, Stevie. Pure magic.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he tilted his head back against Eddie again. “Sounds a little like life, sometimes.”

That earned him a sharp squeeze around his middle, Eddie’s breath brushing warm against his neck. “Exactly. That’s why I love it. In the game, you get to choose who you are. You get to be brave, or reckless, or noble, or a total menace, and nobody can stop you. You get to matter, no matter how big or small you are in the world around you.” His voice dropped, softer now, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Steve stayed quiet for a beat, staring at the flames and letting that sink in. Then, almost offhand, he asked, “What kind of character do you think I’d be?”

Eddie groaned dramatically, tipping his head back. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t do this to me. I’ve thought about that way too much already.”

He smirked faintly. “Yeah? Dustin thought I’d be a good barbarian.”

“Mmm.” Eddie hummed, low in his chest. “As much as I can agree based on what you’ve told me of your fights, barbarians are usually pretty simple. Rage, smash, repeat. And you, sweetheart..” Eddie tightened his arms slightly, giving a squeeze as he pressed his lips against Steve’s temple. “You’re anything but simple. Same reason I wouldn’t make you a fighter either.”

He angled his head just enough to give him a side-eye. “So? What do you think I’d be then?” He asked it quieter this time, like he was inviting something heavier than just a game answer.

Eddie’s grin sharpened, wicked and fond all at once. “Well, I’ve got two options. I used to think you’d be a paladin, no question. Y’know, the golden boy knight, sworn to protect, with a big shiny weapon and a stubborn streak a mile wide. Maybe a little dumb sometimes-” He ducked his head to press a kiss along Steve’s jaw when he huffed in protest. “-but brave a hell, heart of gold, all-in every time.”

Steve rolled his eyes but his lips quirked, fingers brushing over Eddie’s hand where it rested against his waist. “And that’s not me now, why?”

“Well, first of all sweetheart, like I already said, you’re not simple or dumb. But paladins, they swear very specific oaths to a divine cause. Live and die by it. And while I think you could do it- I think you could crush it, honestly- But I don’t think it’s the best fit for you.” Eddie’s tone softened, and for once he wasn’t teasing.

He hummed, giving Eddie’s hand a small squeeze. “Alright, well then what is?”

“A ranger.” Eddie said without hesitation, like he’d been carrying the answer for a while.

He blinks, brows raising slightly. “...Like, Robin Hood, with the bow and arrow?”

Eddie laughed against his skin, warm and unbothered. “Sure, if you want the basic version. But really, rangers are survivalists. They know how to navigate the world around them and track enemies, protect the people they care about from whatever’s out there in the dark. They’re stubborn as hell, independent, but loyal once they’ve chosen their people. They thrive where most people would fold.”

He kissed the side of Steve’s neck, lingering there before murmuring. “That’s you, sweetheart. You don’t just fight- you endure. You make sure everyone else makes it out alive, even if it costs you. That’s ranger as hell.”

Steve sat quiet for a moment, staring into the fire as if he could read his reflection there. Something in his chest twisted, not unpleasantly. “...You make me sound cooler than I am.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, brushing his nose along Steve’s shoulder. “That’s because you still don’t see yourself right. But don’t worry. I’ll keep telling you until it sticks.”

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t fight the warmth curling in his chest. “Sounds cheesy.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie murmured, voice low and fierce as he leaned in closer, “sometimes cheesy is true.”

The fire had burned itself down to a low, steady glow, the last scraps of wood collapsing into orange-red embers that pulsed faintly against the dark shadows bending with the crackle of the wood.

He sat slouched heavy and loose in Eddie’s lap. Eddie’s arms looped around him with an ease that felt like they’d always belonged there. Neither of them bothered to fill the silence- it was a rare kind of quiet that felt whole, not lacking, and Steve let himself sink into it. Eddie’s fingers traced lazy circles against his ribs where his shirt had ridden up, not searching for anything more- just touching, just keeping him close.

He could hear Eddie’s breathing, slow and even against his back, and the faint rasp when his chin shifted against his shoulder. He could have stayed there forever. The warmth from the fire, the steadiness of Eddie’s arms, the quiet hum of the bond- soft now, not burning or biting like earlier, but quiet and slow, like waves rolling back against the shore.

Every so often Eddie would shift, brushing his nose against Steve’s temple, or press a kiss into his hair without even seeming to think about it. And he just let himself relax further into it, every sharp edge inside him soothed by that constant closeness.

Eventually, Steve shifted, not because he wanted to move, but because the fire was low enough now that someone had to. Eddie’s arms tightened around him, reluctantly, before he loosened his hold and let Steve slide out of his lap, getting up beside him. They moved around the little pile of cooling embers together, wordless and in sync, breaking down the last bits of charred wood.

Even in something simple, they didn’t seem to stop touching. A brush against each other’s shoulders, fingertips grazing as they passed. He caught Eddie watching him once or twice, that soft grin tugging at his lips, like he couldn’t believe Steve was real. And every time, he felt the answering tug of his own smile, and he didn’t try to fight it off.

They made sure the fire was out- thorough, careful, neither of them wanting to risk attention from neighbors down the road, or worse. After, they lingered in the yard, back of hands brushing until Eddie finally threaded their fingers together.

Smoke clung to their skin, their clothes, even their hair, and the scent wrapped pleasantly around them. The stars above cut sharp against the black. The pool reflected what was left of the firelight, a fractured shimmer of dying red, across the still water. The house loomed in front of them, its empty windows black and watching, stripped of all its former shine and dignity. It was theirs now, every shattered piece of it.

He let out a quiet huff, almost a laugh, and before he could think too much on it, he turned toward Eddie. Their kiss was slow, almost hesitant at first, but it deepened in the same lazy rhythm the evening had taken on- no urgency, no hunger, just lips pressing softly, then parting, then finding each other all over again.

They angled together in the all too familiar way. It was unhurried, sweet- lips pressing, lingering, the kind of kiss that wasn’t about taking but about giving. Eddie hummed low in his throat, tilting his head to prolong it, like he had all the time in the world to memorize Steve’s mouth.

Steve smiled faintly into it, his free hand coming up to cup Eddie’s jaw. The scrape of stubble under his palm was grounding, real, and when Eddie hummed against him, low and content, it vibrated through both of them.

When they finally eased apart, they didn’t step away immediately. He leaned his forehead against Eddie’s, eyes half-lidded, both of them still holding on like they weren’t ready to break the moment. They stood there for a long while, listening to the hush of the night.

When they finally moved, it was together. They stepped back inside, fingers still intertwined, the house smelling faintly of smoke, dust, and destruction. The silence wasn’t heavy anymore, it was an ease they’d both earned.

Side by side they climbed the stairs, shoulders brushing as they walked, little nudges, the occasional tightening of fingers as if to check that the other was still there.

In Steve’s bedroom, they didn’t bother turning on a light. The dim moonlight spilling in through the curtains was more than enough. They peeled off their smoke-scented clothes lazily, every motion unhurried.

Eddie tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, smirking when Steve followed suit with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. Steve bent to untie his shoes, only for Eddie to nudge him with his bare foot until Steve snorted and shoved him back lightly with his shoulder. It was all so simple, so easy- the kind of ordinary intimacy Steve had never realized he wanted so badly until now.

Eddie made a face at the way his hair smelled like a bonfire, scrubbing his hand through it as if that would help. Steve smirked faintly at him and got a muttered “shut up” in return. Side by side, they moved through the familiar motions of getting ready for bed as if they’d been doing it for years.

Steve brushed his teeth while Eddie leaned in the doorway, arms crossed by eyes soft. Eddie pulled his hair back at the sink while Steve dried his face with a towel, flicking a drop of water at Eddie just to hear him yelp. Little things, quiet things. The kind of things that stitched themselves into routine.

They traded the space back and forth like they’d already learned how to share each other’s orbit. Eddie bumped Steve with his hip at one point, toothpaste still foaming in his mouth, and Steve rolled his eyes but leaned into him anyway.

By the time they padded back into the bedroom, stripped down to softer clothes, the earlier destruction and fire felt far away. The night had settled into something quieter, heavier with comfort instead of exhaustion.

Eddie lingered near the bed, tugging at Steve’s hand again, giving him that look that was equal parts playful and soft. Steve answered with a faint, crooked smile that he saved only for him.

And when the lights finally dimmed and they climbed beneath the covers, it was side by side, Steve stretching out long and tired. Eddie curling in after him. Their hands found each other again under the blankets, fingers lacing together. For once, Steve thought, this house was finally feeling like a home.

For a long while, the only sound in the room was the faint rustle of sheets and the distant hum of the night beyond the window. Eddie’s breathing evened out almost instantly- he’d always been the type to drop into sleep like falling off a ledge.

Steve, though, stayed awake. He lay on his back for a while, staring at the faint play of moonlight across the ceiling, feeling the occasional rise and fall of Eddie’s chest beside him.

Their joined hands rested loosely between them, and Steve let his thumb drift, slow and quiet, across the knuckles of Eddie’s hand. Little arcs, small patterns, just enough to feel the warmth beneath skin, the steady proof that Eddie was there.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to see Eddie’s face in the silver light. His lashes cast faint shadows over his cheeks, his mouth slightly parted, his hair a wild sprawl over the pillow. Messy, unguarded, beautiful.

He let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his chest loosening in the kind of way that almost hurt. He shifted their hands just enough to press his lips softly against Eddie’s knuckles before settling them back down again.

Eddie stirred faintly, not waking fully, just rolling a little closer, his grip tightening briefly before loosening again. A low, slurred murmur slipped from him, a half growl, half a sigh. “Mine.”

Steve froze, heart lurching, but Eddie was already slipping back into the heavy pull of sleep, unaware.

For a long time, Steve lay there, staring at the ceiling, tracing circles against Eddie’s palm, his chest warm and tight in equal measure. Eventually, with Eddie’s breath ghosting steady against his shoulder, the weight of the day finally pulled him under too.

Notes:

Moving is the worst. 0/10 do not recommend.

Chapter 36: The White Rider

Summary:

Footsteps hurried across the tile- uneven, frantic, almost tripping over themselves in their rush.

Notes:

Sorry :)

Steve wiped a line of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, gaze dragging slowly over the living room like he was checking someone else’s work. The freshly painted cream-colored walls gleamed, new in a way that still felt foreign. They boxed him in, clean and neutral, but empty of warmth. Like it was begging to be covered in pictures, or dirtied, he couldn’t tell.

Around the room, facing away from the kitchen, sat the new furniture- dark navy couches, broad and oversized, yet plush and soft, pushed into place with careful precision. Their heavy yet comforting bulk cut against the softness of the new carpet that Wayne had insisted on laying down between his last several days off, the smell of new fabric and sawdust still lingering in the air.

He missed the smell of Eddie. Of them.

He’d spent the last two days doing this room alone. Lifting, building, dragging things across the floor until his shoulders burned. He arranged and rearranged, shoving tables a little to the left, then dragging them back when it didn’t look right.

Not like he had anything better to do.

It was stupid, he knew that. -I’m a fucking idiot.-

He wanted it to look perfect. Or… Not perfect, not the way his parents had it, but to look right. To look comfortable. Inviting. A place everyone, the Party, his friends, his family, could come to and hang out without worrying about things being in their way. Or if they could put a glass on the table without a coaster, or if they’d have room on the couch. He wanted comfort and home. Heartbeats and warmth.

But right now it was just.. Empty.

He’d yelled at Eddie several days ago, after Wayne had come over to see them, after Owens. He knows he shouldn’t have, there was no reason for it. But he’d been so angry and… Well, it was stupid really. But when has he ever been smart? He always messed things up. Always.

He ran a clawed hand through his hair, hissing at the unintentional scrape against his scalp.

“Idiot.” He growled to no one, as he moved back toward a new bookshelf, angling it once more so it fit just perfectly next to the new television.

He stacked the books Wayne had brought over at his request onto the new shelves, only to move them again when the pattern didn’t sit right in his head. He told himself it was progress. He told himself it mattered.

But mostly- he just didn’t know what else to do with himself.

It was stupid. Pointless, even. And he knew it.

Steve let out a low sound, not quite a sigh, not quite a growl, and raked a hand back through his hair. Claws scraping harder against his scalp, making him hiss under his breath. “Idiot.” He muttered again, voice rough and low, the words echoing in the wide, too-open room.

He turned back to the bookshelf again, eyeing it with narrowed focus, tilting it an inch more so it now aligned perfectly with the edge of the television stand. He stepped back, checked the angle, then pushed again.

Anything to keep his hands busy.

Anything to keep his head from circling back to the same damn thought.

Wayne, of course, had done all of this for him. Ordered the furniture he asked for, dealt with the delivery guys when he had to, filled in the gaps with quiet steadiness. All so Steve could stay hidden, pacing like a caged animal in the half-done house while Wayne smoothed everything over.

It’s not like Wayne had said much either- he never did at times like these- but Steve could feel it. Every time their eyes met, that silent weight of you should talk to him.

But he didn’t.

And it’s not that he didn’t want to. God, he wanted to.

It’s just…

He was bound to mess it up eventually. Bound to screw it up again. That’s what he did. That’s what he’d always done.

He was bullshit.

The memory hit sharp and sudden: his voice raised, cutting across the room. Words that weren’t fair, weren’t kind. Eddie’s face twisting with a hurt he hadn’t deserved, as Steve tore into the one person who had stood with him through hell. The one person who understood him better than anyone else.

And then- silence.

Silence for days now.

The second he’d felt that pain in Eddie. Really felt it, like an echo behind his ribs- he’d regretted it. The second the bond twisted sharp with Eddie’s hurt, he’d panicked. Slammed it shut like it wound undo the damage, like it would stop Eddie from feeling the weight of what he’d just done.

All it had accomplished was leaving him cold.

The aching chill came back, settling deep in his bones, spreading like frost every time he let himself stop moving long enough to notice. The absence of Eddie. Eddie’s warmth, Eddie’s mind, Eddie’s everything.

Steve dragged a hand down his face, claws pressing faint little crescents into his skin.

His eyes landed on the couch across from him. A curved long couch, darker blue than the others, with soft yellow pillows on it. The one Wayne had insisted would “make the room feel less empty” It didn’t. It only reminded him that Eddie should’ve been there, sprawled sideways across it, grinning that grin that made Steve’s stomach flip.

But he wasn’t.

He was back in the bunker, hidden away, waiting. Afraid of being caught alone at Wayne’s. And Steve was here- being a screw up.

Like always.

His gaze drifted over the couches again, to the coffee table he’d painstakingly put together that afternoon. Every screw tightened, every surface wiped down until it gleamed. It still didn’t look right. Too new. Too untouched. Like a stage set waiting for actors who’d never show.

He let out a sharp breath, almost a laugh, though it didn’t sound like one. The sound bounced off the freshly painted walls, empty and hollow. He hated it. The house didn’t feel like home- it didn’t feel like anything.

He moved toward the bookshelf again, crouching down to run a hand along the bottom shelf as though dusting, but there wasn’t a speck on it. He adjusted a row of books he couldn’t be bothered to care about, pulling them flush with the edge.

His claws rapped against the spines, scraping in a steady rhythm that did nothing to quiet the noise in his head. He didn’t even have enough strength to rein them back in.

Why had he yelled? Why had he let it spill out like that? Anger that wasn’t even meant for Eddie, words that weren’t fair, weren’t true? Eddie hadn’t done anything wrong. He never did, not really. He just… Existed, bright and stubborn and so unshakably there.

And Steve, like always, had taken that and ruined it.

Bullshit. -Bullshit.-

He pressed his palms flat to the cool wood, closing his eyes. He could almost see Eddie’s face again- hurt flashing sharp before he’d hidden it, the way he always did. Like Eddie thought he shouldn’t let anyone see him bleed. That he didn’t deserve help.

Steve had felt it though. The bond had burned with it, slicing through him until he couldn’t breathe. -Stop thinking about it.- And what had he done? He hadn’t comforted his boyfriend. He hadn’t apologized. He’d shut it down. -Idiot.- Slammed the bond closed until it was nothing but silence. -Bullshit.-

And now he couldn’t open it again. Not without admitting what he’d done. Not without facing it.

The room felt colder for it. Even with all the new furniture, even with Wayne’s quiet effort to patch the place into something livable, it felt barren. Like the walls themselves knew he’d cut off the one thing that made the silence less pressing.

He let his head drop forward, resting it against the edge of the shelf. The wood was solid, unyielding, pressing hard against his forehead. It grounded him, just for a second, though not in the way he needed wanted.

It reminded him of being small again, kneeling in the same position while his parent’s voices carried sharp from another room. Hoping he could hide away from their fighting.

He’d always been waiting back then too- waiting for the moment things would snap, for the cold to sink in, for the reminder that he was alone in a house too big for one person.

And now here he was alone.

Only this time, it was his own fault. -My fault. Always my fault.-

-Bullshit.-

The claws of his left hand dug into the carpet, shredding the fibers as he flexed his grip. He hadn't even meant to. He stared at the now uneven patch, threads curling and broken, and hated how good it felt to destroy something- how easy.

His chest tightened, breath catching as the thought flickered unwanted: better the carpet than Eddie. -I’d gut myself with these claws before I let that happen.-

He shut his eyes hard, jaw clenching until it ached, hand trembling against the floor.

“Idiot.” He mumbled again, this time softer, almost broken.

The house gave him nothing back. Just the quiet hum of the fridge down the hall, the tick of the clock in the kitchen.

Eddie should’ve been there to fill it. Should’ve been leaning over the back of the couch, rambling about campaign ideas Steve could join in on, or drumming his fingers on the counter, or sprawled across Steve’s lap just because he could. He should’ve been humming, laughing, breathing, here.

Instead, Steve sat alone in a room that felt staged and lifeless, with nothing but his mistakes to keep him company.

He couldn’t distract himself with rearranging forever. As the night stretched on, the quiet of the house pressed in on him, too tight, too sharp. He fell deeper and deeper into his own head, the silence gnawing at every thought until they bled together.

-Something’s wrong.-

Something was always wrong. Of course it was. He’d lost the one good thing he had in life. Driven it away, slammed the door on himself. But this was different- this was… Heavier. It pressed down on his chest, clawed as his throat, burned through his veins until every nerve was firing too hot, too fast.

His breathing began to pick up as he stared at the books on the shelf in front of him. The spines blurred together, words twisting, jumbling, bleeding until they were illegible shapes. Meaningless shapes.

He blinked hard, but it didn’t help.

It only made it worse when the words didn’t clear up.

His hands were shaking now. Claws catching against wood as he tried to steady himself. His heart was pounding- too fast, way too fast, faster than even a humans should be. And it was so loud he swore it rattled in his ears. Louder than the clock, than the hum of the fridge, louder than everything.

And then- he couldn’t breathe.

It hit him all at once, his chest locking up like someone had brushed him beneath their boot. He stumbled sideways, nearly bringing the bookshelf down with him, before he managed to lurch toward the end table.

The receiver. He’d placed it there earlier, just in case. Something easy to reach so no one would need to leave the group to answer a phone. He reached for it, but his hand was shaking too hard. He knocked it down, the plastic clattering softly against the carpet.

He dropped to his knees, snatching it up with trembling claws. The buttons. He could see them, could read them. He knew the numbers, could easily trace them with his fingers. But they swam in his vision, doubling, splitting apart, wrong-wrong-wrong. Which one was which? Which line? He couldn’t- he couldn’t do it.

A sob tore itself out of his chest, raw and broken, as he curled around the phone, clutching it tight against his ribs. It was all too much. His breath came faster, shallow, too rapid, each inhale like a knife tearing across his throat. He pressed his eyes shut tightly to stop his vision from swimming, to stop the panic, to stop the emptiness clawing at him.

He couldn’t get enough air. Couldn’t stop.

That’s how Wayne found him when the morning sun finally crept in, thin and grey across the living room. Laying there, sobbing onto the carpet, phone clutched to his chest, eyes tight as he struggled for unneeded air.

How long had he been in this position? How many hours had he spent trying to keep himself together?

The front door clicked open, boots clacking against the hardwood of the entryway before the door slammed shut behind them. Heavy steps pounded across the wood, then carpet. The air shifted beside him, then a callused hand landed gently on his shoulder.

“Steve?” Wayne’s voice cut through the storm inside him, low but urgent. “Son, are you hurt?”

Steve tried to shake his head, tried to say something, do anything, but his body wasn’t cooperating. How chest hitched, his breathing still too fast, too broken. His throat burned from the sobs that wouldn’t stop clawing their way out.

“Hey, hey.” Wayne’s voice gentled, softening to something steady. “It’s alright now. You’re alright.”

It wasn’t. None of this was. Would it ever be? The carpet beneath him felt unreal, the weight of the phone in his hands too heavy. Was this even real? Or just another nightmare?

“C’mon, son.” Wayne coaxed, his knees softly hitting the floor next to his head. Wayne gently took one of Steve’s hands, guiding it upward, pressing the still trembling palm flat against his chest. “Here. Feel that? That’s my heartbeat. Just focus on it, focus on me.”

Wayne’s chest rose beneath his hand, steady, controlled. “Take a deep breath in with me. Slow now. In… Now out… That’s it, all the way. Again, in… Out…”

He tried. His breathing stuttered, uneven, but he clung to the rhythm, forcing his lungs to match Wayne’s. Again. And again. Slowly, the edges of panic began to dull. His vision was still blurry, tears stinging at the corners, but he could breathe.

“That’s good.” Wayne murmured, keeping his voice calm, solid. “That’s real good, son. You’re safe, I’ve got you… Can you tell me what happened? Are you hurt?”

He swallowed hard, his throat scratchy, mouth bone dry. His voice rasped when it finally broke free. “N… No. Not hurt.” The words barely made it out, cracked and slurred. “Cldn’... Couldn’.. Read. Tried ‘ta- tri’d ‘ta call…” His breath started to hitch again, panic threatening to surge back up.

Wayne squeezed his hand firmly, keeping him grounded. “You’re alright. This is real son, this is real.”

His chest shuddered with the force of his breath before he forced out the words, broken, small. “Tried to call… Eddie.. Knows what ‘ta do.”

The name left his lips like a confession, and with it came another sob, quieter this time, muffled into the carpet as he turned his face back into it.

Wayne placed a comforting hand on the back of his head, running it over his hair again and again. A soothing gesture as he let Steve quietly shake it out. He kept the pressure steady as he rested it against the back of Steve’s neck.

“I’ll phone ‘im if you want me to.” Wayne added softly, firmly, a promise threaded with steel as his thumb brushed gently over the back of Steve’s neck. “Don’t you worry, son. We’ll get this sorted, you’ll be alright.”

He didn’t answer, just clutched tighter to the receiver still in his hands. As if it were the only thing keeping him tethered.

Wayne didn’t move, didn’t rush him, didn’t try to pry the phone out of Steve’s grip. He just stayed there on the floor with him, one hand pressed heavily onto the back of his neck, the other lightly holding Steve’s hand to his chest still.

Steve’s breaths still hitched, shallow and uneven, but Wayne kept his steady breaths in and out, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that gave Steve something solid to cling to.

He could feel the drag of Wayne’s shirt against his palm, smell the faint smoke and grease that never seemed to wash away, the scent he’d missed for so long, the one he tried to imagine in the desperate times locked in that box of a room.

He tried to sit up, but slumped back to the carpet, the weight of the world seeming too much. “Easy now,” Wayne murmured, voice low, almost gravelly with sleep and worry, but never sharp. “Don’t gotta rush y’erself. Just breathe with me.”

His claws dug into the phone, the plastic casing creaking under the pressure. He hated how weak he felt- he wasn’t supposed to break down like this, not in front of Wayne. Not after he’d already gotten it out of his system. But his whole body trembled anyway, like his bones couldn’t remember how to hold him up.

-Pull it together.- “Sorry.” He rasped, the words shredded, barely audible.

Wayne’s grip tightened on his neck, not painfully, but enough to cut through the haze in his head. “What I say about false apologies? Ain’t nothin’ for you to be sorry about, son.”

The word son hit him harder than he’d admit, harder than any blow or bat could’ve. It left him blinking fast, tears prickling sharp at the corner of his eyes.

Wayne shifted just enough to look down directly at him, making sure Steve could hear him clearly. “Listen here. You ain’t weak. Ain’t broken. You had a bad spell, is all. Happens to the best of us. I already told ‘ya I’ll be here for you, and I’m here now.”

His throat worked around a noise he couldn’t quite choke back. He pressed his face harder into the carpet, trying to hide the wetness gathering at his lashes, but Wayne didn’t call attention to it. Just slid his hand down to rub a slow, steady circle between his shoulder blades.

Silence settled over them, filled with nothing but Steve’s ragged breathing and the soft hum of the house around them. Slowly, painfully, the edges of panic died down into exhaustion, leaving his body heavy and limp.

His heart still hammered on too fast, but the fight in him was gone. All that was left was the ache- the hollow, gnawing ache that came from shutting Eddie out and feeling it echo back through the bond. Empty. -I’m sorry.-

His voice cracked when he finally forced the thought out. “Cold.”

Wayne frowned, concern flickering across his tired face, but his voice stayed steady. “Cold how?”

Steve just tapped weakly at his chest with the edge of the phone., the motion sloppy, uncoordinated. Wayne nodded in understanding anyway.

“Like before?” Wayne muttered, continuing to rub slow circles on his back, like his hand could shield him from whatever emptiness that was crawling under his skin. -It’s a nice thought.- When Steve nodded, he continued. “I know. That bond o’ yours is’a powerful thing. So like any power, you shut it down, you’re gonna feel it. But you’re not alone. You still got me, y’hear?”

He made a low sound, not quite agreement, not quite denial. But he stayed pressed close, the fight gone out of him. For now.

Wayne didn’t push. He didn’t tell him to open it again, didn’t lecture, didn’t scold. He just stayed there with him on the floor, breathing slow and steady, letting Steve bleed out all that restless energy until his body went slack with exhaustion.

The phone eventually slipped loose in his claws, clattering soft against the carpet as Steve let himself sag fully into the comfort, shoulders relaxing.

They sat in the quiet for quite a while, the early morning sun slowly starting to peak through the new curtains.

Until the sliding glass door to the backyard shoved open with a rough scrape, before being harshly closed. The sound sharp in the heavy quiet. Footsteps hurried across the tile- uneven, frantic, almost tripping over themselves in their rush.

The smell- woodsy, heavy, a tinge of panic underneath something so achingly familiar.

“Listen, I know things are messed up between us right now, but have you-”

Eddie’s voice. Because of course it was Eddie.

He cut himself off the instant he rounded the corner and his eyes landed on them- on Steve curled into a ball on the floor, Wayne kneeling at his side. Eddie’s face drained, pale, terror blooming raw across it as he bolted the rest of the way across the room with inhuman speed. He dropped to his knees so fast it rattled the bookshelves, his hands hovering inches above Steve’s shoulder, trembling, desperate to reach out but terrified of making it worse.

“Steve?!” Eddie’s voice cracked, high and sharp with panic.

Wayne reached across steadily, laying a calming hand on Eddie’s shoulder. His voice stayed low, even, like he was talking someone down from a ledge. “He’s alright.”

Steve flinched the second Eddie’s scent came closer, a smack to the face. Sharp, familiar, dizzying. His whole body tensed like he’d been caught in a trap.

Why was Eddie here? To yell at him? To tell him it was over? To demand an answer as for why Steve had shoved him away, slammed the bond closed like a door in his face? He couldn’t bear to look, couldn’t force his eyes open.

He was a coward.

But he could hear Eddie’s heart. That wild, frantic rhythm thudding hard and fast, rabbit-quick now, so strong it filled his head with noise. Panic bled through every beat, every jagged knife-sharp inhale.

“I-” Eddie stumbled over the words, looking between Wayne and Steve, like he couldn’t get rough air. “I tried calling your house.” His voice shook, words spilling fast, voice cracking.

“When you didn’t answer after the fourth call, I- God, I was so worried. So I had Doc call the plant. They said you weren’t working today, last night, whatever. Then I tried.. I tried calling Steve, about ten separate times, all night, and nothing- no answer. Not even a ring. I thought-” He broke off, breath hitching. “I thought something happened.. I thought I was too late.”

Eddie sucked in a shaky breath, chest heaving, and tried again.

“I can’t feel you.” His voice cracked sharp on the words as his eyes dropped to Steve, not Wayne, not the room. Just Steve. “It’s closed again and I- I don’t-..” He reached out, but stopped hand outstretched, trembling in the air before he curled it back against his chest, like touching might break something. “I was so scared you’d been hurt. Or.. Gone. And- God, Stevie-” His throat worked around the words, breaking. “I’m so- I’m so fucking sorry.”

That shattered something inside Steve.

The sobs ripped out of Steve before he could stop them, raw and heavy, his chest heaving with it. He clutched his hand into Wayne’s shirt like it could help stop him, but it didn’t. It was Eddie’s voice, Eddie’s words, Eddie’s terror, that broke through all the walls he’d hastily thrown up. His body shook, teeth grinding against the sounds clawing their way out of his chest, but he couldn’t hold them back.

Wayne kept a steady hand braced on Steve’s shoulder, but his eyes lifted, meeting Eddie’s for the first time. Something in that quiet look seemed to pass between them- Wayne silently giving Eddie permission, urging him forward.

And Eddie moved, finally, no longer holding himself back. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around Steve, tight, desperate, like he was afraid Steve would vanish again if he let go.

The sobs came harder then, breaking something loose inside Steve, spilling every ounce of hurt and fear he’d been burying deep inside. He didn’t know if Eddie was saying anything- if he whispered apologies into his hair, or begged him to open the bond, or just breathed his name over and over.

He only knew the warmth of him, the scent of him, the way Eddie’s hands shook where they gripped him.

And for the first time in days, Steve reached his hands up to Eddie’s wrists, and weakly clung back.

---

They were talking quietly between themselves, their voices carrying just far enough for the other to hear, never loud enough for Wayne as he moved about the kitchen. The sizzle of bacon and the low clatter of pans gave them more cover, a thin veil of domestic noise behind which they could carve out something fragile and private.

They sat side by side at the island, not pressed shoulder-to-shoulder like they usually were, but angled just enough that their knees brushed now and then. Every time it happened, Steve’s heart lept, like his body didn’t trust the contact, didn’t know if it was allowed anymore. He couldn’t bring himself to shift closer though. Not yet.

“No, okay!” Eddie’s voice rose just enough to cut through Steve’s thoughts, sharp but not harsh. Urgent. “No, Steve. I’m not gonna hear it.” His curls shifted forward as he did, eyes burning with that frustrating kind of sincerity Steve had never learned how to handle. “Because I understood you didn’t mean any of it. I know you didn’t.”

He flinched back, guilt crawling up his spine. He’d expected anger, maybe resentment- something sharp to slice him down the middle. But Eddie’s words landed softer, heavier somehow.

“I wasn’t even mad,” Eddie went on, softer now. “Sure… I was a little hurt at the time, but I understood you weren’t angry at me, you were just angry. And I was there. So I wanted to give you your space when you closed the bond. Because I thought it was what you needed… I was wrong.”

He swallowed hard, staring at the counter like maybe the faint patterns in the marble could offer him an escape route. Space. Eddie had wanted to give him space, and what had he done with it? Curled up on the floor, choking on his own breath, clutching a phone he couldn’t even use.

He nearly jerked when Eddie’s hand slid across the counter. Slow, careful, like approaching a wounded animal. -Maybe I am.- His fingers settled gently over Steve’s, not squeezing, not demanding- just there. Present.

“I didn’t want to rush you, sweetheart.” Eddie continued, voice warm and low, coaxing. His thumb brushed once, a featherlight stroke across the back of Steve’s hand. “But in no way am I mad at you. And in no way in hell am I breaking up with you!”

Steve’s chest pulled tight at that. His stomach knotted tight enough he thought he might be sick. He wanted to believe it- wanted it so badly his heart ached with it- but the ugly voice in his head kept insisting it was temporary. That Eddie would wake up. That it was only a matter of time before he got tired of Steve’s mess and left like everyone else.

Eddie gave his hand a gentle squeeze, putting him back from the spiral he knew Steve often tried to fall into. “So we had a little fight. But whoop.” His grin was faint, crooked, but steady. “I’ve had bigger fights with Carver of all people. Hell, half of Hawkins High, even!”

That earned him the smallest puff of air from Steve. Not quite a laugh, but close enough that Eddie’s grin widened just a little.

Then Eddie leaned in closer, eyes locked onto Steve’s like he refused to let him look away. “I’m not going anywhere. You were angry- hell, I was angry too. But you’ve never been given a proper outlet for your anger before, so you took it out the only way you knew how.”

Steve blinked up at him, throat thick, eyes burning. Nobody had ever, nobody had taken his hand and walked him through this before. Not his parents, not that they did anything a parent should have. Not the guys on the team, they usually egged his anger on, got him into trouble. Not even Robin when she tried to help him work through the reason he was angry.

Anger had always been this ugly thing inside him, something to be hidden or smoothed over or ignored until it boiled over. And Eddie was sitting here telling him it wasn’t something to be ashamed of. That it wasn’t enough to drive him away.

“I need you to understand,” Eddie kept going, firmer now, squeezing his hand again. “I’m not- nor was I ever- mad at you.”

His breath hitched, and he let out a shaky laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all, more to cover up how he felt. His free hand came up to scrub across his face, trying to hide the tremor in it. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Didn’t trust that if he opened his mouth, it wouldn’t just come out as another sob.

Eddie tilted his head, leaned in just a little closer, dropping his voice until it was barely audible even to them. “I care about you, you stubborn, self-destructive jackass. You can throw every punch you’ve got, call me any name you can think of, and I’ll still be here the morning after.”

His throat bobbed. His eyes darted away, down to the countertop, to Eddie’s hand over his, to anywhere but Eddie’s face. His voice came out so thin it was almost childlike. “So… So you don’t think I’m.. Bullshit?” He hated how small it sounded, how raw. But the words slipped out before he could stop them, like they’d been sitting on his tongue waiting for a chance to betray him.

Eddie’s expression softened instantly, all the sharp lines of his face smoothing out. He shook his head once, slow, steady, calm. “Do I think you’re-.. No, Stevie. Never.”

He brought Steve’s hand up with careful patience, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. His lips lingered there for a heartbeat longer than necessary, a grounding touch, before he lowered their joined hands back to the counter.

Steve felt the warmth of it like it had been seared through his skin.

Eddie’s gaze stayed locked on his, unflinching, daring him to argue. “I called Buckley the other night,” he admitted gently, like he was setting down something fragile between them, careful not to let it shatter. -Oh great, now she knows I’m a disaster at..- “Told her what happened, just wanted to talk to someone. She um… She told me about your breakup with Wheeler. About her cheating. About everything else you’ve had dumped on you. That’s why I gave you space sweetheart. But I see I took what she was trying to tell me the wrong way.”

-Oh..-

He winced faintly, like the memory had sharp edges. He wanted to protest, to call and ask Robin why she’d said anything, but the words dried up before they reached his tongue. -So he knows it all then. Knows I ruin everything.-

“Steve…” Eddie’s voice was softer now, but firm, insistent, like he needed this to land. “I thought I told you already. I’m not doing this whole undead thing without you.” His thumb stroked faintly against Steve’s knuckles, keeping him focused, anchored. “I will never leave you, sweetheart. Not over a fight, not for a mistake, not for anything.”

Steve’s chest tightened, that awful pressure behind his ribs rising again, threatening to spill out. He pressed his free hand against his mouth, like maybe he could keep it in, but his eyes were already burning, threatening to spill. The bond between them- it wasn’t opened yet, not fully, but he could feel the edges of it trembling, thin cracks threatening to split where his control faltered.

Eddie didn’t push. Didn’t demand he say anything back. He just stayed there, keeping close, like an anchor keeping him steady in rough waters.

He blinked hard, finally daring to meet his eyes again. Eddie was watching him like he mattered. Like he wasn’t bullshit at all.

His mouth opened, then closed again, the words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. Everything he wanted to say was too big, too heavy, and it felt like if he tried to force it out, it would crush him instead. So he just sat there, letting Eddie’s hand stay wrapped around his, letting Edide’s thumb sweet that slow rhythm back and forth, letting him know this was real.

He didn’t realize until then how tightly he’d been holding himself, every muscle locked, shoulders hunched like he was waiting for a blow. Now, little by little, he let it loosen. He let his shoulders drop, let his jaw unclench, let the breath leave him in something closer to a sigh than a sob. Finally, slowly, his claws retreated.

The silence between them wasn’t empty anymore. Eddie’s knee pressing warm and steady against his, their hands still linked together. It was enough.

Steve wanted to say something. Anything. Thank you. I’m sorry. Don’t let go. But every time the words crawled up his throat, they got stuck, clumsy and too small compared to what Eddie had already given him. So he settled for the one thing he could manage: he didn’t pull away.

Eddie seemed to understand. His grin wasn’t wide or cocky, not the wolfish smirk Steve was used to. It was softer, smaller, just a quiet little curve at the corner of his mouth, but it made Steve’s chest ache all the same.

He might have stayed there forever, just staring into Eddie’s stupid, stubborn, dark eyes, if not for the sudden clatter from the stove.

Both of them jumped, the noise too loud in their sensitive ears, turning their heads just in time to see Wayne setting plates of eggs and toast alongside two mugs of deep, dark red and one cup of black coffee that smelled so strong Steve swore it could peel paint. -Reminder, buy Wayne better coffee.-

“Alright, boys,” Wayne’s gravelly voice cut through the quiet. “Food’s up.”

He carried the tray over, setting it down on the island with a soft clink of ceramic. The steam rising from the mugs of blood curled between them, rich and metallic, and Steve had to swallow hard when the scent hit him. His stomach twisted- not in hunger exactly, but something close.

Wayne glanced between the two of them, his gaze catching for a beat on their joined hands, still resting on the countertop. He didn’t comment. Just gave one slow, approving nod before straightening.

“Eat, while it’s hot.” He grabbed his own mug of coffee and settled heavily into a stool nearby, the chair creaking faintly to their ears under his weight.

Steve exhaled, the spell broken, but not gone. His fingers were still tangled with Eddie’s, and Eddie gave his hand one last squeeze before reaching for his cup. The warmth of Wayne’s quiet presence filled the room now, steady and grounding in its own way.

He reached over and dragged his plate close, the faint scrape of ceramic against marble loud in his ears. Then he lifted his own mug, taking a long sip. The rich, metallic tang that Wayne added a hint of cinnamon to, heavy but familiar, and he licked a bead of blood from his lips before letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. Just breathing. Just being.

Next to him, Eddie was watching. Not staring- at least, not in the way that would have made Steve snap- but dark and constant, like he was memorizing every detail of him in that quiet ordinary moment.

When Steve’s lashes finally lifted, Eddie only gave him the faintest, crooked half-smile before turning back to his own plate, as if to say, see? Still here.

They ate like that for a while. Comfortable silence. The scrape of Eddie’s fork. Wayne’s soft, low grunt as he reached for his coffee. The muted clink of mugs against the countertop.

Every so often Eddie tapped the edge of his fork absentmindedly, the metal against ceramic a giant, erratic beat that made Wayne glance up at him once or twice, brow quirking in mild disapproval until Eddie stopped.

It was almost peaceful- almost enough to truck Steve into forgetting the mess of the last several days.

Almost.

Steve found himself staring into the dark liquid in his mug, his reflection warped and blurred. He watched a drop of blood slide slowly down the inside, racing back toward the pool at the bottom. His throat tightened. He swallowed around the lump, but it stayed stubborn, pressing harder until it felt like it might choke him.

“I-” His voice cracked, he had to stop, clear his throat. In an instant Eddie’s gaze was on him, sharp and worried, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to look up. His eyes stayed fixed on the mug in his hands. “I think it was another panic attack. Because-...”

Eddie stilled. The fork in his hand frozen halfway to his mouth, forgotten. He set it down with deliberate care, the faintest scrape against his plate ringing loud in their ears. “Stevie…” He breathed, soft, like the word itself might scare him into silence.

But he kept going, tumbling forward on the momentum before he could lose his nerves.

“I couldn’t breathe, and then- then I couldn’t read the books. They just.. Blurred, like they weren’t even words anymore. And then I thought-” He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the air out of his lungs slowly. “I thought again, maybe none of this was real. That I’d just made it all up in my head. Which freaked me out even more.”

Eddie sucked in a sharp breath, running a hand back through his tangled curls. His knee bounced under the counter, restless, before Wayne’s heavy voice rumbled low from his side of the island.

“Go on, son.”

It wasn’t a command. More like a gentle nudge, the same way Wayne had been earlier that morning when he’d pressed Steve’s hand against his chest and forced him to breathe.

Steve gripped the mug tighter, knuckles whitening. The ceramic creaked faintly under the pressure, threatening to crack, and Eddie’s hand was suddenly there- steady, warm- covering his, coaxing his fingers to loosen.

“Easy, sweetheart. That’s your favorite, don’t break it.” Eddie whispered, the corner of his mouth twitching with the faintest ghost of humor. It was enough to make Steve let go, just a fraction, enough for the tension in his arms to ease.

“I managed to grab the phone.” He continued, voice breaking soft around the words. “Wanted to.. To call you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s hand tightened on his, just briefly, before settling again, still covering his over the mug.

“At first I could read the buttons, so I thought- it’s fine, this is real. But then… Then I couldn’t. They got blurry and jumped around. And I just-” His breath hitched, and he forced it out slowly, dragging his eyes down to the table. “I couldn’t stop the panic. I couldn’t see which buttons were which, and it was like my own head was against me, I couldn’t trust what I was seeing. And I-”

He slowly looked up again, at Eddie then Wayne, and the look he gave them was raw, stripped bare.

“I think I’m broken.”

The silence that followed wasn’t the easy kind from earlier. It was heavy, thick, pressing down on the room like a weight.

Eddie’s jaw clenched, the muscles twitching as his grip tightened around Steve’s hand. But his voice was steady when he spoke, a fire underneath it, stubborn and unyielding. “You’re not broken.”

Wayne set his coffee down with a quiet clink, leaning forward with his forearms braced against the counter. His weathered face was drawn tight, but his voice was calm, certain, leaving no room for argument. “You’re shaken up, son. There’s a difference. I’ve seen broken, and you ain’t it.”

Eddie nodded fiercely, jumping in like he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Yeah. Jesus, Stevie, you had a panic attack. That doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’ve been through hell and your body’s still catching up. Doesn’t mean you’re wrong. It means you need time.”

Steve blinked down at their hands, Eddie’s wrapped over his, Wayne’s firm reassurance steady in the air around them. The words didn’t sink all the way in, not yet. But the way Eddie held onto him like he wasn’t going anywhere, the way Wayne made sure to stress shaken instead of broken- that was a start, that was something.

And for the first time, Steve let himself believe it might be true. Maybe he isn’t broken. Maybe he just needs to heal.

His shoulders were still tense, hunched in on themselves, But Eddie’s hold didn’t waver, thumb tracing back and forth in small sweeps against the back of his hands. The silence stretched on, but this time Eddie let it- just long enough for Steve to catch his breath.

Then Eddie leaned in a little closer, dropping his voice into that faux-serious tone he used whenever he wanted to pull Steve back from the edge. “Okay, so you couldn’t read book titles. Big deal. Half the time I can’t even read my own handwriting, and that’s not panic worthy- it’s just that I write like a drunk spider.”

He blinked, startled out of the spiral he was falling back into, and let out a shaky laugh before he could stop himself. He ducked his head, biting his lip, but Eddie’s grin only widened at the sound. “See? You still think I’m funny. Clearly not broken.”

Wayne’s eyes flicked up over the rim of his coffee mug, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t say anything, just let them have their moment to breathe, his approval quiet and steady in the background.

Eddie pressed the advantage, leaning his elbow on the counter like he had all the time in the world. “Besides, if you were actually broken, I’d have to trade you in for a new model. And frankly, I don’t think I could find one who makes pancakes nearly as good as you.”

Steve finally looked up at him, brow furrowed but a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t make pancakes that good.”

“Uh, yeah you do.” Eddie countered immediately, eyes widening in mock offense. “Yours are at least four times fluffier than Wayne’s.”

Wayne made a quiet hmph, though his expression didn’t shift beyond that slight twitch of his mouth. He drained the last of his coffee and set the mug down heavily, leaning back with a grunt. “Boy, you keep talkin’ like that, y’er doin’ the dishes.”

Eddie laughed, warm and unrestrained, and Steve felt something in his chest unclench. The heaviness was still deep inside, but he felt lighter now- like Eddie had cracked a window in a smoke filled room.

They finished eating slowly after that, lingering over their plates, Eddie throwing in the occasional soft jab just to keep Steve’s lips twitching upward. Wayne didn’t join in, but he didn’t stop them either. He just watched them, letting the silence fill with something easy.

When they finally shifted to stand, plates in hand, Wayne did stop them with a firm shake of his head. “Sit.”

Steve frowned. “But-”

“Sit.” Wayne’s tone left no room for argument, though there was no heat behind it. He was already standing, gathering their plates. “You two talk. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

Eddie arched a brow, but didn’t argue. He nudged Steve’s knee under the counter until he sat back down, reluctantly, watching Wayne carry their dishes to the sink.

“See?” Eddie leaned in with a grin. “Free cleaning service. You’re definitely not broken, Harrington. You’re spoiled.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot, Munson.”

“And yet,” Eddie said with a mock flourish, drumming his fingers lightly against Steve’s hand, “you keep me around.”

He gave a soft, almost shy smile, and Wayne- half turned at the sink- caught the look. But he didn’t say a word, but the small, private smile that ghosted across his face said enough.

They let the silence settle for a moment, Steve’s fingers curled lightly around the handle of his mug, thumb brushing at the rim like he needed something to do. He listened to Wayne at the sink, the clink of plates, the rush of running water. It should’ve felt normal, ordinary, but his chest still ached with that leftover raw, open feeling.

Eddie leaned an elbow on the counter, and turned fully toward him with a gentleness that almost undid him. “Hey,” he kept his voice low. “You don’t have to keep everything inside just so I don’t worry, you know? That’s not how this works. It’s you and me together sweetheart.”

Steve swallowed, hard. “I just…” He dragged a hand through his hair, tugging a little at the roots, frustrated at himself. “I don’t even know how to explain it half the time. I know we’ve been over this before but it’s.. Like, I’m fine, I’m okay, and then suddenly I’m not. And when it happens? It’s like- like I can’t even tell what’s real anymore… I thought I was losing my mind, Eds.”

Eddie’s hand found his again, squeezing, grounding. “You’re not losing your mind. You’re dealing with too much, too fast. Panic’s just your brain pumping the breaks all at once. Doesn’t mean you’re broken.”

He gave a shaky laugh, eyes flicking down to their joined hands. “Feels like it.”

“Yeah, well.” Eddie leaned in with a half-smile that carried more softness than humor. “Feeling’s are liars sometimes.” He tapped the back of Steve’s hand with his ringed fingers. “You’re still here. Breathing. Talking to me. That’s real.”

He let out another long, shaky breath, but it was steadier than before. His throat was tight, words fighting to come out. “When I was laying there last night, all I could think was- if this wasn’t real, if I was still back in that room in the lab… You’d never know that I.. How much I-” He stopped himself, biting down hard on the words, cheeks coloring.

Eddie didn’t push, didn’t force him to continue. Just squeezed his hand again, eyes steady on him. “I’d know.” He whispered. “I do know.” -Oh…-

He blinked at him, startled, and Eddie just shrugged, casual in a way that wasn’t actually casual at all. “I’m not a genius, Harrington, but I’m not blind. .You’re here.. With me.. That says enough… And I do too, just do you know.”

Wayne, still at the sink, made a small noise- like he’d cleared his throat, though Steve caught the twitch of a smile in the reflection of the window. He hadn’t said a word, but it was clear he’d been listening.

He finally exhaled, long and heavy, then slumped against the island, his shoulder brushing Eddie’s. “You make it all sound so simple.”

“That’s because it is.” Eddie bumped his shoulder gently, grinning now, but softer around the edges. “I’m not letting go, sweetheart. Not yesterday, not today, not tomorrow. You can panic, you can rage, you can call me an idiot- which, by the way, is rude.. But accurate- and I’ll still be right here.”

Steve tilted his head toward him, an almost lazy smile on his lips. “...You are an idiot.”

“See?” Eddie’s grin widened, triumphant. “Progress. You’re already feeling better.”

He huffed softly, a quiet laugh, something real. He let his chin drop onto his palm, shoulders finally loosening as he hunched forward, some of the weight in his chest easing. Eddie just sat there beside him, his thumb brushing against the back of Steve’s arm like a promise.

From the sink, Wayne turned off the water, dried his hands on a dish towel, and glanced over his shoulder at them. His voice stayed calm, but there was something firm beneath it. “That’s how it works, boys. You don’t pull apart when it gets hard. You sit there. You talk. You work it out.”

Eddie shot him a quick grin, but Steve only ducked his head, throat tight again for a whole different reason this time.

Steve sat there, head in one hand, his other thumb rubbing anxiously over his mug, eyes fixed on the dark liquid left inside. He hated talking about himself, hated dragging the heaviness into the air, but Eddie’s hand wrapped over his again, calm, the anchor he needed.

“I keep thinking…” He started, voice so low Eddie leaned in to hear it. “I keep thinking you’ll realize I’m not worth it. That I’m-” He broke off, exhaling sharp through his nose. “-too much. That I’ll screw it up again and you’ll finally get sick of it. Sick of me. That you’ll realize that I’m.. Bullshit.”

Eddie’s brows drew together, but his tone stayed even, firm. “Steve.. Look at me.”

It took effort, but he finally managed to drag his eyes back up, meeting Eddie’s gaze head-on.

“There’s nothing you could do that’d make me think you’re too much.” Eddie was soft but fierce. How tone leaving no room for argument. “You spiral, you panic, you shut down sometimes- so what? That doesn’t scare me off. It just tells me you’ve been carrying shit alone for too long. You’re not a burden, Stevie. You’re mine to worry about now. You gotta let me take some of that shit on for you. I want that, you hear me?”

He blinked several times, trying to clear his head. “You say that now, but what about when it happens again? And again?”

“Then it happens, as many times as you need it to.” Eddie’s answer was immediate, without hesitation. “And I’ll be here every time. That’s the deal.”

Steve let out a shaky laugh, mostly incredulous. “You’re making all of this sound easy.”

Eddie smirked faintly, but his thumb stroked across Steve’s knuckles, tender in a way that contradicted the sharpness of his grin. “It’s not easy. You’re not easy. But I’m not exactly a walk in the park either, sweetheart. Lucky for us, I think we’re both just dumb enough to make it work.”

That startled a laugh out of him- an actual full on laugh, rough around the edges but real. His chest loosened a little more, the fear in his gut finally easing back.

Wayne had gone quiet behind them, still at the sink, but Steve could feel his presence, the approval radiating off him in waves. It made him want to hide and bask in it at the same time.

“I don’t deserve this.” He murmured before he could stop himself, almost like it slipped out.

Eddie didn’t flinch, like he expected it. “Yeah, you do. More than anyone I know.”

He ducked his head, pressing his lips tightly together to keep from completely unraveling, again. He felt Eddie lean in, their shoulders pressing tight, Eddie’s voice dropping until it was just for him again.

“You’re not broken, Stevie. You’re just.. Healing. And sometimes healing looks ugly, sometimes it’s scary. Doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. Everyone’s different… My healing comes in the form of nightmares that I feel too ashamed to share, but it also comes in the form of taking care of you. Of being there for you.”

The lump in his throat was back, but it didn’t choke him this time. He let out a long breath, still shaky but calmer, and he nodded slowly, unable to form a reply.

They sat like that for a while, the words spent but the closeness filling the silence. Eddie kept their hands together, and Steve let himself lean into the warmth of him, let the noise in his head soften into something manageable.

Eventually, Wayne set the dish towel down with a decisive little thump. “Alright,” he started gently, “that’s enough heavy talk for one morning. Let an old man have some peace with his coffee, huh?”

Eddie chuckled, the sound breaking the weight clean in half, and Steve found himself smiling faintly too, the tension in his shoulders finally loosening.

Eddie tilted his head toward him, eyes bright despite everything. “So,” he said in that mock-serious tone that always got to Steve, “what do you say, sweetheart? You, me and the world’s most boring bookshelf later? Bet I can beat your high score in rearranging.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but his smile gave him away. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am.” Eddie gave his hand one last squeeze, grin softening into something warmer.

“Here you are.” He whispered, letting himself lean into the steadiness of Eddie pressed against his side, and slowly the weight in his chest lifted away, no longer feeling so unbearable.

---

They’d spent the rest of the morning in a lighter mood, voices low and easy as they lingered at the counter. The weight of earlier conversations still hummed under the surface, but it wasn’t crushing anymore, not with Eddie there to smooth it over with a grin or a quiet squeeze of his hand.

When Wayne had excused himself to clean out the pool, Eddie had leaned close and muttered something about how the old man probably just wanted to give them space. Steve had ducked his head, smiling, only slightly embarrassed, but didn’t argue.

The afternoon drifted by in the living room. Eddie perched cross-legged on the floor with stacks of books surrounding him, humming tunelessly as he organized them by instinct rather than alphabet. He ran his thumb along the spines, muttering dramatic summaries as he went.

“This one’s about dragons- big ones, mean ones. This one’s about some sad bastard wandering through the woods for three hundred pages. This one…” Eddie trailed off, holding up a battered paperback with a woman in a gown clutching a sword on the cover. “This one’s probably porn disguised as literature. No idea where Wayne got it.”

Steve snorted from where he was dragging one of the tables two inches to the left, trying to get the angle just right. “You’re not putting that one on the top shelf.” He rolled his eyes, it was chaotic, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

“Oh, but Stevie, imagine the scandal when our future guests spot it! The mothers of Hawkins would faint!”

Their banter back and forth filled the house until Wayne eventually came back in, cracked open a beer from the fridge, and collapsed into the recliner Steve had picked out just for him. It sat across from a matching one he’d purchased for Hopper.

The moment Wayne leaned back, his eyes slipped shut. A pleased little grunt leaving him, one hand resting on his stomach, bottle dangling lazily from the other. Steve had felt a flicker of something warm then- satisfaction maybe, or pride- that he’d managed to make the man comfortable in this space that had once been his parent’s house. The Harrington house.

He caught Eddie watching Wayne with the same softness in his eyes, and Steve hadn’t said it, but he knew they were thinking the same thing: this feels right.

By the time dinner came and went, the three of them drifting between conversation and comfortable silence, Steve felt almost… Normal. Like maybe the chaos of the past few days hadn’t swallowed him whole.

But now, he and Eddie were wresting his father’s old desk through the hallway, the wood polished to shine after hours of Steve’s mindless scrubbing. The scent of lemon cleaner still clung to it, sharp and fresh, almost disguising the weight of memory pressed into every inch.

“Lift with your legs, Harrington!” Eddie fake grunted, loose curls from his bun falling into his eyes as he maneuvered his side of the desk through the front door with a supernatural ease.

“I am lifting with my legs!” He shot back, shoulders rolling as he lifted the desk higher. “Maybe if you didn’t almost drop it on your foot-”

“That was one time!” Eddie’s laugh cracked through the complaint, bright and unbothered, even as he stumbled on the porch step.

He huffed, biting back a smile. “Yeah, and I’d rather not find out if our healing works on bones too, thanks.”

They shuffled the desk down the walkway toward Wayne’s truck, their footsteps near silent against the gravel. Steve’s muscles hardly burned with the effort, but it was a good kind of strain- the kind that came from working in tandem, from Eddie’s muttered commentary and occasional dramatic groan about how he was “far too delicate for manual labor.”

When they finally hefted the desk up into the bed of the truck, Wayne was already there, leaning against the tailgate with his beer in hand. His eyebrows arched at the sight of the two of them, cheeks flushed from laughing, happier than they wanted to admit.

“Didn’t take you two for the moving company type.” Wayne drawled.

Eddie slung an arm across the side of the truck, like he’d conquered it. “Oh, we’re professionals now. Hire us for weddings, funerals, and anytime you need help breaking out of an illegal torture facility.”

Steve rolled his eyes, wiping the back of his hand across his thigh. “Professional, my ass. You almost crushed your toes.”

“Key word, almost.” Eddie shot back with a grin, then looked toward Wayne. “No permanent damage. I’ll still be able to dance and play guitar for you, old man.”

Wayne shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smile. “You two bicker like an old married couple.” He muttered, reaching to steady the desk as they slid it further into the truck.

He froze for half a beat, pulse stumbling at the casual sentence. Married couple. He didn’t let himself dwell on it, not with Eddie laughing easily beside him, but the phrase stuck in his chest like a spark waiting to catch.

When they finally secured the desk, Steve leaned against the side of the truck, stretching out the ache in his back. His eyes drafted over the house, the porch light spilling warm across the yard, the faint click of Wayne setting his bottle down on the tailgate.

This- Eddie beside him, Wayne close by, the desk of his father’s that no longer felt like a monument but just a piece of furniture being moved- it all felt new. Different. His. And he no longer felt the urge to run.

Instead, Steve led them back inside. His steps were steady, but there was a faint nervous energy in the way he kept glancing back, as if to make sure they were still following.

He showed them much of what he’d done over the last several days, pointing out not with the detached tone of someone giving a tour, but like he needed them to understand why.

The living room first.

He explained how he’d aligned the couches into an open but close space, a half circle, instead of the stiff, angled lines his parents had insisted on. “They always wanted it to look like a magazine spread.” He muttered, scratching behind his head with nerves. “But no one ever actually sat in here for long. It was too… Formal. Like you’d get in trouble if you breathed too loud.”

His hand swept over the room now, the dark blue couches, the soft lightning, the throw blankets draped over the backs of seats. “This is supposed to be a place where people can crash. Where it’s okay to laugh, or spill a drink, or- y’know- actually live.”

Eddie’s smile softened as he leaned on the back of one of the couches, his rings glinting in the low light. “Looks like you nailed it, sweetheart. Feels more like a home now.”

Steve ducked his head at that, hiding the way his cheeks flushed and a grin broke out with the words.

He moved them to the kitchen next, running his hand across the stark white cabinets with a faint grimace. “These gotta go. Whole place looks like a hospital ward. I was thinking something warmer, more inviting. Maybe wood, maybe just painted a soft brown or pale green… A kitchen shouldn’t feel like you’re afraid to touch anything- it should feel like you wanna hang out in here, cook in here.”

Wayne hummed approvingly, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Ain’t wrong there. Kitchens are the heart of a home, son. You make it comfortable, people’ll gather without even thinkin’ about it.”

He let that sit in the air for a moment before nodding, continuing on.

His father’s office was next. The heavy desk now gone, the room was empty except for bookshelves, bare in a way that made it easier to breathe. “Thinking game room in here. Really a big middle finger to my father.” He admitted, eyes flicking between them. “Maybe a pool table, maybe air hockey. I mean, hell, I could do both. I’ve got the money. Why not?”

Eddie barked out a laugh, tilting his head back. “You hear that, Wayne? Our boy here’s planning to turn Harrington HQ into the hottest hangout spot in Hawkins.”

Wayne shook his head, but he was smiling as he looked around the room.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Well it’s no longer the hottest party spot.. And I don’t want it to be the honest hangout spot either, just a comfortable place for everyone. The kids, you guys, Joyce and Hop. Everyone. They all need a space they can escape to. Have fun at. This place used to be somewhere I hated coming back to. I wanna make it into something good.” He shook his head, not letting them respond before he moved on.

The basement came next. Steve flicked on the lights to reveal the thick carpet Wayne had helped install, the washer and dryer having been moved upstairs into the second set of hookups in the linen closet closer to the kitchen.

Several recliners, plush couches, and love seats he’d arranged facing a huge screen against the far wall. “Home theater.” He said, the faintest trace of pride in his voice. “Plenty of space for everyone. Nobody crammed in like sardines or fighting for a spot on the couch.”

Eddie flopped across one of the couches, sprawling out, arms spreading wide. “Damn right, Harrington. This is luxury. Hear that Wayne. I’m dating a rich man.”

Wayne shook his head, smiling. “I’m aware of that. I managed that boy's money for the last couple years.”

He rubbed the back of his head, shrugging. “I never really cared about how much money I had, I just liked working to do something. And honestly, I spent most of those paychecks on the kids. I still don’t really care, and… I want to maybe get a job again once we can go out.”

He didn’t try to figure out the look Eddie gave him. “I saw the numbers on those papers Wayne gave me and.. I just figured yeah, I’ll make this place into something comfortable.”

Instead of letting them give some heartfelt response, he moved on, leading them back upstairs and to the guest rooms. He’d painted warmer tones in some, cooler in others. They weren’t finished yet, but the bones of what he wanted were there. “I was gonna get around to the furniture soon.” He explained, rubbing at the back of his neck again.

“Didn’t wanna half-ass it. Figured if people are staying here, it should actually feel.. Like a home. Not like my parents’ guest room, where it was all for show, lifeless. And I’m still not sure about the colors, might change it again.”

He kept going, and was mid-rant gesturing toward one of the unfinished corners, when Wayne’s voice cut in gently. “Think that’s enough for tonight, son.”

Steve blinked, realizing he’d been talking nonstop, he felt like Robin for a minute. He shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck before Wayne added, “I’m headin’ out. Gettin’ tired.” He glanced at Eddie then, one brow raised. “You need a ride?”

Eddie looked at Steve, reading him like a book, and shook his head almost immediately. “I’m good. Gonna stick around a while. Make sure Stevie boy here doesn’t go gettin’ lost in that head of his again.”

His throat went tight at that, like he hadn’t expected Eddie to want to stay. But he managed a small, shy smile. His fingers twitching at his side before finally lifting to brush against Eddie’s. Eddie didn’t hesitate- he laced their fingers together, loose and easy, a grounding touch, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Wayne’s gaze lingered on the gesture, but he didn’t comment. He just gave a slow nod, grabbed his jacket, gave them each a lingering hug, and left them to the quiet of the house. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Steve and Eddie alone in the low hum of the evening.

The house felt impossibly quiet after Wayne left, the soft click of the front door echoing down the hall like it had sealed them off from the rest of the world. Steve still had Eddie’s hand in his, and he didn’t want to let go. Not now. Not after everything.

He tugged gently, leading Eddie toward the living room. The dark blue couches seemed to invite them in, the soft glow of the low lamps painting everything in a warm haze. Steve sank down onto the middle couch, tugging Eddie with him until they were pressed side by side.

Eddie immediately sprawled out, draping his free arm across the back of the couch, his knee brushing Steve’s. Steve sat up straighter, nervous, but Eddie’s closeness worked its way under his skin like gravity, tugging him down, keeping him tethered.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the faint hum of the refrigerator over in the kitchen and the subtle tick of the clock on the wall. He stared at the far wall, at the shelves they’d filled with books earlier, but his eyes didn’t really see any of it. His jaw worked. His thumb rubbed at the inside of Eddie’s wrist, restless and guilty.

Finally, he swallowed around the lump in his throat, his voice coming out low and raw. “Eds… I’m sorry.”

Eddie turned, frowning now, his mouth opening in protest, but Steve squeezed his hand quickly, cutting him off. “No. Don’t. I need to say this.” His chest rose and fell, breath rushing out shakier than he wanted. “Even if you forgive me. Even if you weren’t mad. I still need to say it.”

Eddie’s lips pressed together, like he wanted to argue, but he let Steve go on.

He forced himself to keep talking, even though his throat felt right again. “I was just… Mad. At everything. At Owens dragging his feet. At the suits telling us they ‘need more time’ to figure out what to do with us- like we’re just problems on a clipboard instead of people.” His voice cracked, sharp and bitter.

He shoved a hand through his hair, tugging hard before letting it fall again. “It all just piled up, and it came out at you. And that’s not fair. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve it. And I’m sorry.”

The last words came out in a whisper, his gaze dropping to their hands. His thumb stilled over Eddie’s rings, his whole body pulled tight like he was bracing for a blow, even now.

For a second, Eddie didn’t say anything. Then, Steve felt himself being tugged sideways, pulled into Eddie’s chest. Strong arms wrapped around him, caging him in with that familiar scent of smoke, leather, and something darker that clung to Eddie’s skin now, something unique just to them.

He didn’t fight it. He melted into the embrace, letting his forehead press into the hollow of Eddie’s shoulder. His body finally stopped trembling for what felt like the first time in days.

Eddie’s voice was quiet, warm, rumbling against Steve’s ear. “You’re allowed to be angry, sweetheart. I’m not made of glass. I can take it.” His arms tightened, hand smoothing over the back of Steve’s neck. “But I hear you. And your apology is accepted.”

His throat ached, but some of the weight slid off his chest at those words. He let out a shaky laugh that wasn’t really a laugh, just a sharp exhale. “You shouldn’t just.. Forgive me that easily.”

Eddie huffed, pulling back just enough to tip Steve’s chin up with a ringed finger, forcing him to look at him. His grin was soft, crooked, but his eyes burned with something fierce and unyielding. “Sweetheart, I’ve been in fights that ended with broken noses and stab wounds, and I still showed up at school the next day. You think a couple angry words from you is gonna scare me off? Not a chance.”

Steve’s lips parted, but the words caught somewhere behind his teeth.

And then Eddie leaned down.

The kiss was soft, unhurried, almost tentative at first. Not like the fiery, heated kisses they often got lost in. This one was different- sweeter than most. Like Eddie was telling him without words that he wasn’t going anywhere. That this would last.

His fingers clutched the front of Eddie’s shirt, holding on as if he could force himself to believe it. The cool brush of Eddie’s lips against his burned in a way that no heat ever could, sharp and sweet all at once.

He didn’t want it to end.

When they finally pulled back, it was just barely, their foreheads nearly touching, breaths mingling in the still air. Eddie didn’t really pull away- his lips hovered, brushing against Steve’s as he spoke in a low murmur.

“Been desperate for that for days.” Eddie confessed, voice husky, every word ghosting across Steve’s lips. “Withholding your kisses is a form of torture Stevie.”

Heat curled low in his gut at the confession. His lashes fluttered, and he almost, almost leaned back in without thinking. Instead, he stayed there, on the edge of another kiss, caught between the weight of what had just passed and the quiet, aching relief that Eddie was still here, still wanted to be, was choosing him.

The house was silent around them, the rest of the world distant and irrelevant. It was just them. Two undead idiots. He wanted to stay in that moment forever.

The silence this time wasn’t brittle or heavy. It was lighter, softer. Eddie’s thumb brushed over the back of Steve’s hand against his chest, lazy little circles that soothed instead of demanded. Steve’s head stayed tucked close, forehead just under Eddie’s jaw, and for once, he didn’t feel the need to pull back and fill the quiet with words.

But it was Eddie who broke it this time, voice low, a little rough around the edges. “Y’know.. If I’d known years ago all it would take to get a kiss out of you was a full-on emotional breakdown, I would’ve planned one instead of being framed for murder.”

He snorted against Eddie’s collar, the sound muffled, but his smile still broke through even though he tried to stop it. “Emotional breakdown and turning into a vampire… Idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah. But I’m your idiot.” Eddie countered, smug, though the grin faded into something gentler when Steve huffed out another shaky laugh. He leaned back just far enough to look down at him, one brow cocked, loose hairs falling into his eyes. “C’mon, sweetheart. That’s better than crying yourself into a panic on the carpet, right?”

Steve groaned and tipped his head back, falling against the couch cushions as he rolled his eyes. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

Eddie widened his eyes in mock innocence, his tone pitching light and teasing. “What, me? Noooo. I would never exploit my boyfriend’s most dramatic vampiric panic attack for my own amusement.”

He shoved Eddie’s shoulder, but his lips curved up into a smile. Eddie caught his wrist, smug and bright.

Wayne had been right- Steve needed Eddie to cut through his downward spirals. To tease him, joke with him, remind him he wasn’t broken or fragile. That he was just Steve. Just the guy Eddie wanted to sit on a couch with, knees brushing, trading insults until the edges of the world didn’t feel so sharp.

They fell into an easy rhythm then. Eddie sprawled sideways on the couch, boots kicked out over the couch, while Steve stretched out a little beside him, his legs half-draped over Eddie’s, he wasn’t even complaining about him dirtying the new couch.

Eddie talked with his hands, animated as always, describing the stupidest things- an idea for a new Dungeons and Dragons villain, some prank he’d once pulled at Hawkins High in his first senior year, the way Henderson had tried, and failed, to explain a new sci-fi movie to him the other day.

Steve listened, relaxed for the first time in days. Occasionally he added something in, a dry comment or a quiet laugh, but mostly he just let Eddie talk, the sound of his voice filling up the room. It was exactly what he’d been missing.

At some point, Eddie reached out absentmindedly, his fingers combing through Steve’s hair. The repetitive motion was calming, the scrape of rings cool against his scalp, and Steve felt his eyes growing heavier with each pass.

“Careful.” Eddie teased, noticing the way his eyes drooped. “You fall asleep on me, Harrington, I’ll draw a mustache on you with permanent marker. Immortality won’t save you from a sharpie.”

He hummed low in his throat, too comfortable to rise to the bait. “You’d have to let go of my hair first… Mmm.. Are we even immortal?”

Eddie barked out a laugh, the sound rich and warm. “Touche, sweetheart. And I have no idea. To my knowledge, Doc’s still trying to figure out a safe way to test it.” His hand slowed, softer now, until he was just brushing strands back from Steve’s forehead, tucking them back behind his ear like he couldn’t help himself.

The house was dim, the clock ticking faintly in the distance, and the weight of the last few days finally began to tug at Steve. He shifted closer, pressing into Eddie’s chest, a sleepy sigh escaping before he could stop it.

Eddie froze for a heartbeat, then seemed to melt against him, curling his arm around Steve’s shoulder and holding him there. “God, you’re dangerous when you’re soft.” He muttered into Steve’s hair, so quiet it was almost meant for himself.

But he caught it. Though his words were already slurred with the heaviness dragging at him. “Mm n’uh s’ft.”

Eddie grinned, brushing his lips against the crown of Steve’s head. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

A few more minutes passed like that, the warmth of them pressed together sinking him deeper into the kind of deep sleep they so rarely needed, but still chased for comfort. He was almost gone when Eddie moved.

With ease, Eddie slid his arm under Steve’s knees and his other around his back, scooping him up like he weighed nothing at all. He startled, blinking himself halfway awake, voice groggy. “Wha- Eddie? Wha’re you d’ing?”

“Taking you to your room.” Eddie said simply, like it was obvious.

His head lolled against Eddie’s chest, a small smile tugging at his lips even as his eyes slipped shut again. His words came out in a mumble, so quiet Eddie almost missed them. “Our room.”

Eddie nearly tripped over the bottom stair. He choked briefly before he caught himself. He looked down at Steve, already drifting back off in his arms, and his grin cracked wide, soft and helpless.

“Yeah,” he whispered, pressing his lips to Steve’s temple as he carried him up the stairs. “Our room.”

Eddie walked with calculated steps, not because Steve was heavy- he wasn’t, not much was these days- but because he didn’t want to jostle him awake, he’d bet his guitar his boyfriend hadn’t slept at all since their fight. Steve’s head rested against his chest, his breath slow and even, the warmth of it seeping through Eddie’s shirt in a way that made his heart stutter.

By the time they reached the landing, Eddie had almost convinced himself he was dreaming. Steve Harrington- previous golden boy king of Hawkins, stubborn as hell, sharp-edged and soft-hearted- was curled in his arms, trusting him enough to fall asleep like this.

And then he’d whispered, our room, like it was a fact. It kept echoing in his head, squeezing tighter than any bond or oath ever could.

Steve Harrington, his boyfriend. An absolute sweetheart. He thought he’d only get something like this in his dreams. To find someone who cared about him this much, well he never thought he’d see the day. Not in this backwater town of all places.

He nudged Steve’s bedroom door open with his shoulder, the soft creak of hinges louder than it should’ve been in the stillness of the house. The room smelled faintly of detergent and something that was just Steve.

But not like it had been slept in recently.

Eddie eased him down onto the mattress, as carefully as if Steve might break beneath his hands. Steve shifted, murmuring something incoherent, one hand blindly reaching out until his fingers brushed Eddie’s wrist. He kept still, breath catching.

“Still here, sweetheart.” He whispered, sliding his hand though Steve’s hair gently. He tucked the blankets up over Steve’s shoulders, smoothing them down before perching on the edge of the bed.

Steve slowly blinked his eyes open, just barely, pupils hazy with sleep. “Did.. n. Mean.. ‘tuh.. Crash.” He mumbled, his words slurring, lips barely moving.

Eddie grinned crookedly, brushing a stray strand of hair off Steve’s forehead. “Yeah, you did. Don’t lie, Harrington. You were out the second I started talking about sharpies.”

That got him a ghost of a smile, small but there, before Steve’s eyes drifted closed again.

Eddie hesitated, then toed off his boots and set them quietly against the wall. He climbed in beside Steve, careful not to crowd him. But the second the mattress dipped, Steve shifted closer like it was instinctual, tucking himself against Eddie’s side.

Eddie’s chest felt like it might burst. He slid an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him in, and rested his chin against his hair. The house was silent but for the hum of the night outside, and in the stillness, Eddie finally let himself exhale.

He whispered into Steve’s hair, words too quiet to disturb the peace but too heavy to keep inside. “Our room.” He echoed softly, tasting the weight of it. His hand tightened just slightly on Steve’s shoulder, a promise.

Steve didn’t answer- already gone, fully surrendered to sleep- but his fingers curled into Eddie’s shirt, holding on even in his dreams.

Eddie lay there in the dark, listening to the slow, steady beat of Steve’s heart, and thought that maybe, just maybe, he could finally start believing they were building something neither of them had to run from.

---

They were back in the bunker. The bond flaring brightly back open between them, warm and constant. They needed to be somewhere familiar. Somewhere safe. Somewhere that had, against all odds, felt comfortable.

Doc was currently out meeting with his ‘trusted friend’ about new upgrades to the bunker. And Wayne was off with the Party and Owens hashing out ‘next steps’, but Steve and Eddie had decided not to join them. They didn’t feel like being part of plans or strategies today.

Today, they just wanted to be alone.

It had nothing to do with the fact that neither of them wanted to walk into the Hawkins Lab unless they absolutely had to.

Nothing at all.

The larger training room was quiet except for the echo of Eddie’s bare feet scruffing against the padded floor and the heavy thud of weighted balls against the walls and floor. Steve was balanced on the very tip of the tall triangular obstacle, his body tight with concentration, standing on one leg, arms wobbling to keep his balance.

Every so often, Eddie hurled one of the heavily weighted balls his way, testing his reflexes. He lept, twisted, or ducked, the faint blur of movement making him look less human, and more predator.

“And you see-” Eddie huffed out as he swung another ball over his shoulder, muscles working as he launched it at Steve. “It wasn’t even waking up in that hellhole that was the worst part. It was the smells. God, Stevie, they were awful.” He grimaced as the ball flew wide and clattered against the mat. “I mean, I thought they were bad-”

He picked up another ball, using both hands to launch it at Steve. “-when we were human, but as a vampire? I swear to God, the stench alone almost burned me from the inside out.”

Steve twisted midair, landing light as a cat on the triangle’s edge again. He wrinkled his nose at the thought, shoulders tensing. “I don’t even wanna imagine. I mean, the Demogorgons already smelt like rotting garbage mixed with wet dog and blood. Awful. And the Hawkins Lab… Christ, you can still smell the gates down there. It’s like mold and copper and death all baked together. It reeks.” He shuddered, his lips pulling down. “Don’t even want to try and think about it.”

“Think about it?” Eddie scoffed, leaning down to collect a couple of the balls. “Sweetheart, I lived in it. It was the first thing I smelt when I woke up. And it was horrible. I mean, I woke up surrounded by hundreds of those dead bats. Their smell alone- ugh.” He shivered visibly, tossing the large ball from one hand to the other. “I puked. Twice. Before I could even get to my feet.”

He ducked as another ball came flying for his head, snoring at the poor aim. “Yeah, tell me about it. The tunnels where the demodogs lived? Filled with spores. And it smells like someone left meat out for a week in the sun, then rolled it in shit. And that was as a human.” He mimed gagging.

“Demodogs?” Eddie asked, pausing mid-bend as he reached for the next ball.

“Yeah. Kids named ‘em too.” He squinted down at him. “You said you saw some of them in the Upside Down. Told me you, once, maybe? I think.. That you… Drank from some?” He shrugged, bracing himself for the next throw.

But it never came. Eddie stood there frozen with the ball in hand, confusion etched deep onto his face. “Sweetheart… I have no idea what you’re talking about. I never said that. And I’ve never seen whatever a.. Demodog is.”

He blinked, his balance faltering. Carefully, he lowered his other foot back onto the narrow surface, both feet planted precariously on the tip of the triangle, as he stared down. “I… What?”

Eddie shook his head slowly, frown deepening. “I’ve never seen anything but the bats in person. I think I might’ve heard them though? Real fast, moving on all fours, sounded like a pack of.. I dunno, mutated wolves? But I never saw one.”

Steve looked confused. “You saw what a Demogorgon looked like through my memories.. It’s like.. A baby one. Small, on all fours, right before it grows up and starts walking on its hind legs.” He jumped slightly, sliding down and off from the obstacle, socked feet landing with a heavy thud. He stared at Eddie, searching his face. He let a glimpse of a Demodog thread through the bond. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, no sweetheart.” Eddie’s tone softened, as if he could already sense the panic creeping in at Steve’s edges. “I’d remember something like that. Flower face and all? Kind of hard to forget. Never saw one. Never drank from one either.”

He stood there, staring down at his hands, flexing his fingers one by one, like he was silently counting them. A tightness grew in his chest. He looked up, eyes wide, his voice small. “Eddie…. This is.. This is real, right?”

In an instant, Eddie was there. A blur of movement, then warm, steady hands were on Steve’s shoulders, grounding him. His eyes softened, his voice gentled to that low rumble Steve had come to crave. “Sweetheart. This is real. Okay? This right here? It’s real. We’re in the bunker, under Doc’s cabin, in our fancy little arena. It’s just me and you.”

He searched his face, fear etched deep. “This when… When did I hear it? You saying you drank from them? You said you’d killed some, drank from some bats too. I swear, I heard it through the bond.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Stevie I believe you, I do. But when did you hear it?”

His knees almost buckled under Eddie’s grip. His words stumbled out, fragmented. “In the.. Back in the.. Back there. In that place. In the.. The lab. After.. You told me or- I thought you told me. Something I thought was you, told me… After the Pitt. I think? After I fought the Demogorgons. Something… Something I thought was you said it. I thought we talked. Was that… Did we talk?”

Eddie nodded slowly. “We talked, yeah. You said they had your bat-”

“Wayne had it.” He cut in quickly, almost desperately, like he’d just remembered it.

Eddie gave a faint smile, nodding again. “Right. Wayne has it. So if they had one.. Then, they had to have replicated it… Interesting.”

Steve’s breathing quickened again, his hands twitching, panic starting to set in. “And the bats? Did you… Was that real?”

Eddie hesitated, then gave a sharp nod. “Yeah. That part was.. It was real. There were still some flying around in groups. One of ‘em came at me, and I just kinda grabbed it and tore into it. Not proud of it, but it happened.”

For a long moment Steve just stared, then his lips twitched into a weak smile. “Sounds pretty metal… Like Ozzy.” His voice cracked on the joke, like he was trying to cling to something familiar. Something Eddie had said years ago.

Eddie chuckled, relieved, brushing his thumb absently across Steve’s shoulder. “Hell yeah. Little less glamorous without the stage lights though.”

He didn’t laugh. His eyes lingered, searching Eddie’s face as if memorizing every detail. Eddie’s grin softened, he kept his hand steady, his touch light but firm.

Because sometimes the worst part wasn’t the monsters. It was not knowing which memories were his- and which ones the lab had planted.

His hands still twitched at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling, claws itching to come out, like he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. His eyes darted toward the floor, then back up at Eddie, then away again, like he was fighting with himself.

Eddie decided for him, he guided them down gently, a hand firmly at the back of his neck until they were sitting on the padded floor together. Eddie sat cross-legged in front of him, close enough that their knees were nearly stacked atop one another. His voice stayed calm, quiet, steady- like he was coaxing a wounded animal.

“Hey. Breathe with me, sweetheart.” Eddie pressed one of Steve's trembling hands against his chest, right over his heart. He kept his hand over Steve’s, holding it there. “Feel that? That’s real. That’s me. In.. Out. With me, sweetheart.”

Steve’s chest hitched, but he tried. His lungs filled too fast, the air rattling out sharp, shallow, but Eddie stayed with him. Patient. Constant.

“In…” Eddie drew the breath in exaggeratedly slow, his shoulders rising so Steve could see the movement. “Out…” He let it out, calm and easy. He repeated it again, and again, until Steve’s breathing started to fall in line with his. Not perfect, but steady, not ragged anymore.

“There you go.” Eddie murmured. His thumb brushing absent circles over Steve’s knuckles. “That’s my guy.”

He shut his eyes, fighting back another wave of panic before it could rise. “I just-” His voice cracked. “I don’t always know if it’s real. When I close my eyes, it’s like I’m back there sometimes. Or like I never left. And somethings.. Are different from how you remember than how I remember and I can’t..”

Eddie’s chest tightened at the admission. He wanted to tear the whole damn lab apart with his bare hands, burn every inch to ash for what they’d done, to make sure they could never do it again. But right now, all he could do was stay here. With Steve.

His eyes cracked open. Their eyes met, searching.

“See? This is me.” Eddie leaned in closer, close enough that he could feel the faint brush of his breath. “Not some lab trick. Not some memory they shoved in your head. Just me. Eddie. The guy who nearly brained himself last week trying to fix a light fixture in the kitchen for Doc. The guy who plays his guitar too loud and still loses bets to Henderson.”

That earned him a small twitch of Steve’s lips, a barely there smile trying to break through.

Eddie grinned, relief flooding through him. “There he is. Handsome even when he’s spiraling.” He knocked his forehead lightly against Steve’s. “You know, if this was some lab illusion, do you really think they’d let you keep my pretty face?”

Steve let out a choked laugh, wet and shaky. His body sagged forward, pressed into Eddie’s chest as if his bones couldn’t hold him up anymore.

Eddie caught him easily, wrapping his arms around him, tucking Steve’s head under his chin. He felt Steve’s breath against his shirt, uneven but slowly settling. Eddie rocked them gently, side to side, murmuring nonsense under his breath: bits of songs, half-formed jokes, anything to keep the weight from pressing back in.

“You’re not broken, Stevie.” Eddie whispered finally, his lips brushing the top of Steve’s hair. “They tried to break you. There's a difference. You’re still here. And you’ve got me. That part’s never going away.

He let out a long, deep sigh, one hand firsting in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. For once, he didn’t try to argue. He just let himself stay there, pressed close, matching his breathing in time with Eddie’s. He let himself relax. He was free.

Eventually, his breathing evened back into the barely there breaths. Though the faint tremor in his hands still gave him away. He was quiet, like if he spoke too soon the calm might crack apart again.

But finally, he mumbled against Eddie’s shirt, voice muffled, raw. “What if I can’t trust it anymore?”

Eddie tensed, hand frozen when he’d been running it up and down Steve’s back. “Trust what?”

“Anything.” He pulled back just enough to look up at him, though his gaze flickered everywhere but Eddie’s eyes. “The walls, the people, the-” His voice faltered, cracked. “..You.”

The word hung in the air like a blade. Eddie’s heart lurched.

He rubbed his palm against his thigh, nervous. “Back in the lab, I already told you, but they kept mixing shit up. Showing me things, making me hear things that weren’t there. Sometimes I’d wake up, and it felt like weeks had passed. Or they’d put me in a room with-” He cut himself off, jaw clenching.

“I just don’t know most of the time. What if I’m standing here right now, thinking I’m with you, and really I’m still…” He let out a deep sigh instead of continuing, lost in the weight of unspoken words.

Eddie pulled his hand slowly off Steve’s back, catching Steve’s hands before he could rub them raw, he squeezed tight. “Sweetheart. Look at me.”

Steve did, reluctantly, his eyes haunted.

“You feel this?” Eddie tugged his hands, pressing Steve’s palms flat against his chest again, over his faint but steady heartbeat. He leaned in close until their foreheads touched. “This heartbeat doesn’t exist without you. Do you get that? If they’d never shown you me- if you hadn’t pulled me out- I’d still be rotting in there. I’m real because you made sure I’d be here. And you-” Eddie’s voice caught for a second, softer now. “-you’re real because I can feel you.”

He blinked up at him, throat bobbing.

“Close your eyes.” Eddie whispered.

He looked confused, but after a moment, he let his eyes fall shut.

“Now tell me. What do you hear?”

His brow furrowed. “Your voice?”

“What else?”

“Your heartbeat.” He swallowed. “It’s getting faster.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got me all worked up, Harrington.” Eddie grinned, even if Steve couldn’t see it. “What else?”

His breathing steadied as he focused, the tension in his jaw slowly loosening. “The hum of the lights. The mats settling under us… The fridge in the kitchen back down the hall.. The wood creaking in the cabin above us. And I.. I feel your hands, they’re a little rough, but they’re warm and.. You smell like metal and.. And cedar.”

Eddie let out a soft huff in amusement. “That’s cologne. Glad it’s working.” He nudged Steve’s forehead gently with his own. “See? That’s not some illusion. That’s all real.. You’re here. With me.”

He opened his eyes again, they were glassy, softer now. He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for days. “I just… I can’t… Sometimes it’s a lot harder to figure out. And you make it sound so easy sometimes.. And you’re able to make me realize that we’re here and not there.”

Eddie gave his hands another tight squeeze, cutting through the rising panic pulsing through the bond. “It’s not easy. But it is simple… You trust me, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” He admitted without hesitation. His voice was rough but sure.

“Then if you can’t trust yourself, trust me.” Eddie shifted closer, knees pressing firmly against Steve’s now. “I’ll be what keeps you here. Your anchor until you can hold yourself steady again.”

His lips twitched into something closer to a smile- tired, but real.

“You’re ridiculous.” He whispered.

“Yeah,” Eddie’s grin widened. “But I’m your type of ridiculous.”

He let a soft laugh bubble out of him, almost incredulous at how easily Eddie could pull it so easily from him after everything. He leaned forward again, letting himself rest in that warmth, in Eddie’s hands still cradling his own like he was something precious.

Eddie didn’t let go even when the heaviness thinned into quiet again. Instead, he tugged Steve gently toward him as he scooted back. They sat side by side, back brushing against the large cubed obstacle. Eddie kept one knee bent, lazily bouncing it, while Steve sat with both knees up, his arms draped over them for a moment before sliding one back to Eddie’s.

Steve started fidgeting almost immediately. He traced the ridges of Eddie’s knuckles, rolled one of his rings back and forth, dragged his thumb along the line of Eddie’s index finger. Eddie didn’t move to stop him- if anything, he leaned into it, like he’d take whatever scraps of touch Steve offered.

His voice came after a long pause, low, almost hesitant. “Did we… Sleep on bean bag chairs in the lab together?”

Eddie let out a sound that was more breath than anything, tilting his head to glance down at him. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.” He let the memory sink in, his grin tugging crooked. “We pushed them together. And I didn’t want to just curl up on the floor like in my ‘room’ there.”

He nudged Steve with his shoulder, playful even though his voice carried a thread of something heavier. “And then I got to snuggle up with you, which- don’t tell anyone- was kind of a dream come true. Sharing space with the famed Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington? High School me would’ve passed out.”

Steve’s lips twitched, fighting back a smile, but he ducked his head like he didn’t want Eddie to see how much it affected him.

“You gave me your yellow sweater.” Eddie added, quieter now, like he wasn’t sure if Steve remembered. “You insisted you had others, and pulled on my ugly paper thin hospital gown. Pretty sure you just thought I looked like a drowned rat and couldn’t stand it.”

A soft hum rumbled out of his chest in response. He let his thumb sweep over Eddie’s middle finger, back and forth, the silence once more stretching comfortably between them. For a while, only the faint hum of the ventilation and their quiet breathing filled the room.

Then his voice broke the stillness again, fragile, almost childlike in its uncertainty. “I was brought into the… The not-gym after being hurt, and you were there. Was that real?”

Eddie went still beside him. His shoulders stiffened, his jaw clenched, and he stopped breathing for a moment. Steve noticed, his grip loosening like he regretted asking. But then Eddie exhaled, long and shaky, and let himself relax back against the cube, their shoulders pressing more firmly together.

“Yeah,” Eddie admitted, his voice low, “that was real.”

He swallowed, his fingers twitching against Eddie’s like he didn’t know whether to hold them together or let go. “I wasn’t sure.”

Eddie finally turned his hand over, lacing their fingers properly, keeping them both grounded. “You were hurt pretty bad, sweetheart. I’d never seen something like it and…” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I thought you were gonna die. Right there. And that they just dragged you in, dumped you like trash, and left me sitting there, useless to watch you die.”

The air seemed to thicken between them. He leaned a little more into Eddie’s side, his shoulder warm against Eddie’s arm. “You weren’t useless.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but firm enough to make Eddie glance at him. “You being there… It kept me alive Eds. Kept me fighting. Even if I thought-” He cut himself off, brows knitting. “Even if I wasn’t sure you were real.”

Eddie squeezed his hand hard enough that he finally looked up at him. His eyes were bright, fierce in the dim light. “I was real, Stevie. Every second of it was. Holding your face, trying not to fall apart- it was real. And I’d do it again. I’ll keep doing it, every time… Though I hope it never happens again.”

He blinked at him, chest tight, his throat burned with words he wasn’t yet ready to say. Instead, he leaned his head against Eddie’s shoulder, the motion clumsy, almost instinctive. Eddie didn’t move, didn’t joke, just let him rest there, their hands still locked together, steady and certain that this was real.

---

They stood in the room Doc had half-jokingly named the “Blow Shit Up” room. A reinforced chamber made of thick concrete walls, steel plating, and scattered debris from past tests. The air still carried the faint scent of gunpowder and singed metal.

Now, Steve was planted firmly several feet in front of Eddie, hand outstretched, palm up, fingers spread tight. His stance was still his shoulders locked. His gaze pinned itself to the empty labelless grey can sitting twenty feet away on the scrubbed floor.

“I told you.. Doc and I tried this for hours. I’m not like her.” He’d been like this long enough for his arm to start to ache.

Nothing happened.

With a frustrated groan, he dropped his arm, rolling his shoulder like he was shaking off the failure. “I don’t get it. Sometimes it seems like it might work, sometimes it doesn't? Same with my scream, sometimes it comes out, and others it’s silence. Feels like- like trying to grab bubbles.”

From behind, Eddie finally moved, crossing the room in long strides. He slid his arms around Steve’s waist and pulled him back against his chest, his chin coming to rest lightly on Steve’s shoulder. He swayed them both a little, to music only he could hear.

“Maybe you’ve been coming at it all wrong, sweetheart.” Eddie murmured, voice low and easy. “You’re holding yourself too tight. Trying to mimic what you saw supergirl do- throwing your hand out all soldier-serious. But you’re right, you’re not her.” His smile ghosted against Steve’s cheek as he pressed a kiss against it, soft and teasing. “You’re you. And that’s plenty, so remember that.”

His lips twitched at the words but he didn’t move, still tense in Eddie’s arms.

“Maybe…” Eddie’s voice dropped even lower, like a secret meant only for Steve. “Maybe you just need to relax. Try it your own way.” He pressed the lightest kiss behind Steve’s ear, letting it linger for a beat before pulling back. His hand smoothed slowly across Steve’s stomach, up over his chest, before trailing away.

And then he stepped back, giving Steve room. “Go on. Just… Do you.”

He almost groaned aloud at the loss of warmth. His body wanted to lean back, to drag Eddie with him, to bury himself in that warmth. Instead, he forced himself to take in a deep breath.

He shook out his arms, loosening them from the rigid angles. He rolled his neck side to side, shook out his legs like he was about to stretch before a run. The tension in his jaw eased just slightly.

When he finally opened his eyes, his focus landed on the can again.

This time, he raised his hand not with military precision, but with something looser, more natural, almost lazy. His palm half-open, his ring and pinky finger half curled, he gave a quick flick of his wrist.

The can shot backward like it had been yanked by a string, slamming into the far wall with a hollow clang.

His head snapped up, eyes wide. His lips parted with a breathless huff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Holy shit. It.. It worked!”

He motioned his fingers forward, then flattened his palm. The can jerked off the ground and floated midair, trembling but steady. His grin grew, almost manic, and he glanced back at Eddie.

Eddie’s mouth was open in a quiet ‘O’, then split into a grin so wide it nearly lit up the room. His voice cracked with laughter. “Shit, Stevie. You’re actually doing it!”

He turned back to the can, pulse thrumming. He focused on the feeling in his chest, the warmth and the ghost of a touch Eddie had left behind. And twisted his fingers, the can slowly spinning in the air. His mouth dropped open in a mix of awe and giddy disbelief. Then, with a sudden clench of his first, the metal crumpled like paper. The echo of the crack of metal reverberated through the empty room.

The bond suddenly flared bright between them with Steve’s surge of adrenaline and Eddie’s answering pride and excitement. It buzzed like champagne bubbles through both their veins.

He flicked his wrist one last time, sending the crushed can sailing into the wall. “Jesus Christ.” Eddie breathed in awe. The sound barely registered before he whirled around, crossing the distance between them quickly.

He grabbed Eddie by the front of his shirt and hauled him close, pressing their mouths together in a kiss that was equal parts triumph and hunger. All teeth and tongue. Eddie made a startled noise into his mouth before laughing against him, kissing back just as fiercely.

When they’d finally broke apart, a thin string of spit caught between them, and Steve was panting lightly despite not needing the air.

Eddie licked his lips slowly, savoring the taste of them, his grin crooked and reverent. “You’re amazing, sweetheart. Absolutely terrifying, but amazing.” His hand slid up Steve’s arm, fingers trailing over hard muscle, lingering like he couldn’t quite believe Steve was real.

His cheeks flushed hot, but he didn’t pull away. He pressed his forehead briefly to Eddie’s, whispering almost sheepishly. “Guess you were right. I can do it. Just needed to be myself.”

Eddie chuckled, brushing his nose lightly against Steve’s. “Yeah Stevie, I usually am.” His hand lingered on Steve’s arm, thumb brushing in slow circles. He was practically vibrating with pride through the bond- like static running up Steve’s spine.

“Alright.” Eddie continued, his grin tilted and mischievous now. “That was badass. But now we gotta see what else you’re capable of.”

He huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What, crushing soda can’t isn’t enough for you now?”

“Nope.” Eddie popped the ‘p’ like it was obvious. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s hot as hell, but we’re not exactly gonna scare the bad guys with your recycling program. Maybe the whole exploding them bit but..”

He snorted, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stalling.” Eddie shot back, stepping toward the pile of random junk Doc had collected in one corner- objects he didn’t mind being destroyed. Eddie bent down and hefted up a cinder block like it weighed nothing, holding it out in both hands. “Think you can handle this, Superman?”

He gave him a flat look, but the corner of his mouth curled upward. “You just want me to embarrass myself.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie’s eyes sparkled, “I already got to experience you kissing me like you were about to light me on fire. You can’t embarrass yourself after that. I mean I’ve had my tongue in your-”

“Ah!” He interrupted, rolling his eyes, but his chest gave a nervous flutter at the words. He dragged a hand through his hair, shaking it out before lifting his palm again. This time he didn’t tense. He just exhaled slowly, relaxing like Eddie had told him.

The cinder block jerked in Eddie’s grip. Eddie’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t let go- he wanted Steve to see what he could really do.

“Shit.” He hissed, pulling his hand up slightly, and the block tugged harder against Eddie’s grip.

“Don’t fight it.” Eddie encouraged, letting the bond hum reassurance into him. “Just.. Tell it where to go. Try and.. I don’t know. Try to control it, not the other way around.”

He clenched his jaw, he could do this. -I can do this.- With a nod to himself he adjusted his wrist, and the block ripped out of Eddie’s hands, floating awkwardly between them. The weight was heavier, harder to balance, but it hovered there, rocking like a boat at sea.

His breath caught. “I- shit, I’ve got it. I’ve actually got it.”

“You’re doing amazing, baby.” Eddie whispered, his voice hushed with awe now. He stepped closer but didn’t touch, watching Steve like he might shatter the moment if he interfered.

Steve twisted his hand and the block rotated in the air, dust flaking from its edges. He angled his palm just slightly, and it sailed forward, smacking hard into the wall with a dull boom. Cracks spiderwebbed out from the point of impact.

Eddie whopped so loud the sound echoed. “Fuck yes! Did you see that?!”

He lowered his arm, his chest rising and falling with exhilaration. “That.. That didn’t feel like me.” His voice wavered, like he didn’t know if he should be afraid or proud. “It just- happens. Like it’s already in my bones, muscle memory or something.”

Eddie finally closed the distance between them, cupping Steve’s jaw with both hands. His thumb brushed gently against Steve’s cheek. “Then maybe it is in your bones. Doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Doesn’t mean you’re broken or anything. Just means you’ve got more to you than you thought. Whether it's from the Lab, or just a part of what happened to us.”

His eyes searched Eddie’s, desperate, uncertain, but the unwavering steadiness he found there made some of the tension bleed out of his shoulders.

Eddie smirked, trying to cut through the heaviness, his voice soft but teasing. “Besides… You make crushed concrete look sexy. Didn’t think I’d ever be into demolition, but here we are.”

He barked out a laugh, startled but relieved, and Eddie’s grin widened.

The room quieted again, the air buzzing faintly with left over energy. Eddie finally leaned back just enough to eye the rest of the debris pile, then raised his brows. “So… Wanna see if you can do two at once?”

He groaned, dropping his head to Eddie’s shoulder with a muffled, “You’re insane.”

“Yeah, but I’m your type of insane.” Eddie pressed a kiss into his hair before murmuring, “C’mon, Stevie. Let’s see what else you’ve got.”

---

They’d been at it for hours now, Steve pushing, pulling, crushing different objects that Eddie threw at him. Sometimes it was one or two bits of junk. Other times, Eddie would fling four or five heavy objects in rapid succession, testing Steve’s reflexes.

His movements had shifted over the court of the afternoon- gone was the stiff, tense hesitation. He was learning to move with the power, to trust it. Each flick of his wrist, each lazy curl of his fingers seemed sharper, more natural, like his body had always known how.

And Eddie… Eddie was enthralled.

Every time something snapped mid-air, or a chair went sailing across the room, or a canister imploded with a crunch of steel and dust, Eddie’s grin stretched wide enough it looked like it might split his face. His dark eyes were blown wide, hungry, awed. He clapped and whooped and egged Steve on after every successful try, his pride humming through the bond like steady baselines in Steve’s chest.

“God, Stevie, you’re like- like a goddamn wizard. Except Hotter. Way hotter. Gandalf wishes.” Eddie’s voice bounced off the concrete walls, his hands thrown up dramatically as another hunk of scrap went flying into the far wall.

Steve flushed, ducking his head, but the corner of his mouth curved into that small smile Eddie lived for. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re amazing.” Eddie shot back instantly, no hesitation, like it was simply the truth.

The two of them moved around the room in a kind of rhythm- Eddie scooping up more things, hurling them with a casual strength, Steve flicking, slicing, crushing mid-air. Sometimes the aim was clean, smooth, and Eddie let out delighted little noises like he was watching the best concert of his life.

Sometimes Steve’s control wobbled, objects pinged off the ceiling instead of the wall, and Eddie only laughed, telling him it still looked “metal as hell.” Not like he had perfect control, he’d only just managed to crush a can.

Eventually, when the pile of scraps was dwindling, Eddie clapped his hands together. “Alright, Munson’s got an idea. You’ve been doing the finger-wiggle thing for hours now, but what about the other part? The whole banshee thing. You’ve been avoiding it.”

He froze, mid-step. “...My.. Scream?”

Eddie smirked, already padding over toward a stack of empty glass bottled Doc had shoved against the wall, exactly for this purpose. Though they’d only tried twice.

“Yeah, sweetheart. The thing that makes your voice do that-” He widened his eyes and mimed an explosion with his hands, fingers splaying out like fireworks. “We should see what you can do with it when you’re aiming. Not just.. Exploding guards.”

He groaned, dragging his palm down his face. “Eddie…”

But Eddie was already lining the bottles up on an old table like it was a carnival game. “Don’t give me that. You’ve got a voice that can shatter lights and explode people’s bones. You’re telling me you don’t wanna see how far you can push it?” He shot Steve a grin over his shoulder. “Because I definitely wanna see.”

He hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek. His voice- his scream- was the thing that felt the least in his control. It came from instinct, from fear, from the need to protect Eddie, moments where his chest cracked wide open and everything poured out. But… He had a difficult time denying Eddie anything. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to see too.

“Fine.” He muttered, rolling his shoulders back. “But if I blow your ears out-”

“I’ll still think you’re hot.” Eddie winked, moving back to stand far behind Steve.

He huffed out another laugh, shaking his head as he walked into position across from the bottle covered table. He stood there for a long moment, breathing deep, letting the room still around him.

He closed his eyes, trying to reach deep inside himself. To feel for what, he doesn’t know. But finally, he felt something, a weight, like dragging his fingers through wet sand. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Then he opened his mouth.

And screamed.

The sound ripped through the air like a shockwave. The bottles exploded instantly, shards of glass raining down in a glittering storm. The table groaned, split clean in half, and slammed into the floor.

“Holy shit!” Eddie shouted, nearly doubled over with a delighted laugh. “Stevie, you nuked it! That was- fuck- that was metal as hell!”

He was breathing hard, shoulders rising and falling, but not from exhaustion- more from the wild adrenaline of it. “That wasn’t.. Aimed, though.” His voice was hoarse, but steady. “It was just… Out.”

“Then let’s aim it like.. Like Banshee, in X-Men!” Eddie said excitedly as he dragged another table over, this one filled with cinder blocks. “I know you’ve read it with Henderson.” He stacked them, one by one, into a crude little wall. “Alright, sweetheart. Try to hit just one. Not the whole lineup.”

The first few attempts were… Not successful.

He would focus, narrow his eyes, try to dig deep for the same pressure in his chest, but the moment he let it out, the sound always came wider, bigger, than he meant. Whole stacks toppled. Lights overhead flickered and burst, raining sparks around them. One time, Eddie swore he felt it shake his ribs.

But he kept going, stubborn as hell. Eddie stood nearby through every single attempt, giving him crooked smiles and loud praises, tossing jokes when things blew too wide, steadying him with soft touches when Steve started getting frustrated.

And then- finally- Steve managed it.

He let out a single scream, sharp and cutting, his mouth formed into a soft ‘O’, and only the middle cinder block cracked straight down the center, crumbing into dust. The rest wobbled, but held.

His eyes went wide. His hand came up to his nose automatically like he’d just remembered something, but when his fingers came away clean, his chest gave a little lurch. “I-...” He blinked, looking down at his hands, then back at Eddie. “I didn’t.. I haven’t bled, at all.”

Eddie tilted his head, watching him carefully. “Is that not… Good?”

He swallowed hard. “El- when she uses her powers, even for the small stuff, it always makes her nose bleed. Sometimes her ears and eyes too. But… But I just realized. I haven’t. Not once this whole time.” His voice was a whisper, equal parts awe and unease. “And it hasn't even hurt. Sometimes she.. It’s like she had to use a lot of force and she’s.. Straining.”

Eddie stepped closer, his hands coming to rest on Steve’s shoulder, keeping him calm. His smile softened, dimming from manic glee to something steadier, warmer. “Don’t go thinkin’ you’re broken, Stevie, cause you’re not. Maybe it’s just… You. Built differently.” His thumb brushed against Steve’s neck, sending a warm hum of reassurance through the bond. “And thank God for that.”

Steve exhaled, a shaky laugh bubbling up, and Eddie grinned like he’d just won the lottery, pulling him into a rough, fierce hug. “I’m proud of you, Harrington. You’re able to do some amazing things.”

He leaned into Eddie’s arms for a second longer, soaking in the warmth before straightening again, eyes sharp with that familiar stubbornness. “I’m not done yet.”

Eddie pulled back just enough to stare at his face, one brow shooting up. “Not done? Sweetheart, you’ve been throwing cans into walls and screaming cinder blocks to dust for hours. Most people would call it a day.”

“I think we both know I’m not most people.” He rolled his shoulder, shaking out his arms. There was no weariness in him, not in the ways a human would feel it- just a kind of taut, electric buzz that demanded he push.

“I need to know what else I can do. How far it goes.” His eyes flicked back toward the wreckage of bottled and broken stone, determined. “I don’t wanna be surprised by it later, when it matters.”

That… Eddie couldn’t argue with. His grin came back in full force, wolfish, proud, utterly besotted. “Alright, King Steve. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He was buzzing too, feeding off Steve’s drive, his own heat thrumming with pride and excitement.

He darted across the room, dragging a heavy metal worktable toward the center like it weighed nothing. “Try this. Bet you can flip it without even raising your hand.”

Steve braced himself, sucking in a deep breath before slowly exhaling. His focus sharpened into a point as he stared at the table. It shuddered, rattling against the floor. Then with a barely there lift of his chin it launched sideways, crashing into the wall with a resounding clang.

“Fuck yeah!” Eddie whooped, clapping like he was watching the best performance of his life. “Do it again, sweetheart! But-” He pointed eagerly. “This time, softer. Try setting it down instead of throwing it.”

He narrowed his eyes, lips tugging in frustration, but he tried. He reached out, curled his finger, and the table scraped against the floor, wobbling unsteadily. His wrist shifted, just barely, and the table rose a few inches, trembling like it weighed a thousand pounds. Sweat prickled at his hairline. Then, with a grunt, he eased it back down- crooked, uneven, but not slammed.

The breath he let out came shaky, but Eddie was already at his side, grabbing his face with both hands and planting a messy kiss on his cheek. “See? See?! You did it! Gentle hands, Harrington. Look at you.”

Steve laughed weakly, shoving at his shoulder, though he was smiling too. “It was barely controlled. And not hands free.”

“But it was controlled.” Eddie countered, eyes bright. “You didn’t brush it, didn’t smash it- you placed it. That’s huge!”

They kept going. Eddie kept fetching heavier things- an old locker door they’d accidentally ripped off, a weighted barbell, even one of the battered training dummies. Steve tried them all. Some he launched too hard, others he managed to hold mid-air without breaking a sweat. And Edide never looked away, never stopped encouraging, his pride loud and relentless in both his voice and the bond.

Finally, when Eddie stacked up another row of bricks, he pointed at them with a wicked grin. “Okay. Let’s go back to the screaming. Try to slice this time. Not all-out destruction. Just pick one, and cut it.”

He stared at the bricks, his jaw tight. Could he even do that? He inhaled sharply filling his chest, and then let loose a controlled burst of sound. The noise cracked like a whip, sharp and forceful. Dust puffed up as one of the bricks split neatly in two, the others left intact.

He stared at it.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Eddie yelled, so loud it echoed off the walls, pumping both fists in the air. “YES! FUCK, STEVIE, DID YOU SEE THAT?! You’re like- like a sniper banshee!”

His face flushed hot, chest heaving with both effort and exhilaration. He pressed the back of his hand to his nose again- still clean. His brows furrowed. “...Still nothing. No nose bleed. Not even a headache.”

Eddie stepped in closer, his voice softer now, reverent. “You know what that means, right?”

He shook his head, almost wary. “...What?”

“It means this is yours.” Eddie’s hands found his again, fingers weaving together. “Not something borrowed. Not you being broken. Not a copy of supergirls or anyone else. It’s just you. Pure Harrington magic.”

He swallowed hard, his throat working as he looked at Eddie. Something in his chest loosened, warm and dizzying. “..You really think so?”

Eddie’s smile softened, fierce and fond all at once. “Sweetheart, I know so. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He let out a breath, shoulders easing. His grip tightened on Eddie’s hand, steadying himself in the glow of Eddie’s pride. The wrecked room around them suddenly didn’t feel heavy or dangerous- it felt like proof. Proof that he could fight, that he had more than just stubbornness and luck on his side.

And with Eddie’s gaze locked on him, proud and amazed and unshaken, Steve felt- for what was possible the first time since the lab- that maybe he wasn’t scared of himself anymore.

---

They’d kept on, Steve wanting to see more of what he could do. Eddie’s excitement and encouragement spurring him on. He’d managed to move things without using his hands much easier than before, though heavier things were still better to be done with his hands.

He’d managed to float things in mid-air without straining, without crushing them. After a while he could even hold them there, still, no longer wobbling. He’d managed to set things down gently, a bottle he flipped onto its neck, sitting perfectly without falling over. He’d managed to stack several chairs precariously onto one another.

At some point, Wayne had come back from his meeting with the Party and Owens. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching Steve with the scent of pride radiating off him in waves. Steve had spared him a glance and a quiet greeting before turning back to stacking cards that Eddie had somehow found, higher and higher.

Sometime during it all Steve had managed to use his voice and hands in tandem. Now, he was working on using his scream and other gift without using his hands, keeping his aim correct on both.

And eventually, Doc finally returned as well. He took one look at the three of them and hurried off to get his usual clipboard, cane clicking loudly through the quiet halls. As soon as he was gone he was back, taking notes as Steve kept going.

Steve barely noticed him- too focused on the delicate balance of power thrumming in his chest. The air in the room felt changed, every breath like pulling in static. He held his ground at the center of the destruction, eyes narrowed at the cluster of empty bottles Eddie had lined up along the far wall.

He didn’t lift his hands this time. Instead, his lips parted, his chest expanding with a deep inhale. The noise that ripped free wasn’t wild, wasn’t ragged- it was sharp, honed. A single high note that shot across the space like a blade of sound. One of the bottles exploded in a spray of glass dust, the others rattled but stayed whole.

His lips quirked up, almost boyish. “Closer.”

Eddie whooped from the sidelines, smacking Wayne’s arm like he needed someone else to share in the thrill. “Did you see that? Precise as hell! My boy’s got a sniper scream!”

Wayne just grunted used to Eddie’s energy, though his grin said enough, his gaze steady on Steve, proud.

“He’s got control. Far more than I thought we’d see this soon.” Doc added in, his voice also lifted with pride.

He tried again. This time, the scream clipped the edge of another bottle, knocking it over the ledge instead of shattering it. He hissed in frustration, but Eddie was already darting forward, grabbing him by the shoulders with a grin.

“Sweetheart, you hit it. Don’t care if it broke or not- you aimed. That’s the thing. You’re getting better by the minute. More in control.”

Their bond pulsed with Eddie’s pride- loud, bright, impossible to ignore. It made Steve’s chest loosen, some of that iron-hard tension finally unspooling.

Doc scribbled at his notes furiously, muttering to himself. “No physical strain… No cranial bleeding… Remarkable. Truly remarkable. Subject demonstrated amazing control over both telekinetic and sono-kinetic outbursts.”

“Subject?” Eddie shot him a glare, though it softened when he noticed the look on Doc’s face, a far cry from the hate in the Lab. “He’s not a lab rat, Doc. He’s Steve.”

Doc barely spared him a glance, though he raised one hand in a placating gesture. “My apologies. These notes do not need names but, Steve is showing capabilities far beyond what we anticipated. You should both be proud.”

Eddie tugged Steve closer at that, like pride wasn’t even a question- it was a given. “Damn right I am.”

Steve blew out a slow breath, trying to calm himself, though his fingers twitched like he wanted to keep going. The air still hummed with energy, the promise of more. “I’m not tired.” He admitted, almost surprised by it. “I should be, but I’m not. We could keep pushing. I want to try and get the hang of both of them.”

Eddie smirked, rocking back on his heels. “Oh, I know. You’ve got that look- like you’re not stopping until you’ve ripped the whole damn room apart.

Doc looked up from his notes, eyes narrowing. “Moderation is wise. Even if you don’t feel fatigue in the traditional sense, there could still be unseen consequences- strain on the nervous system, perhaps. Still, for the sake of observation, a few more controlled attempts may be useful.”

Eddie leaned in, his lips brushing Steve’s ear. “Translation: he’s dying to see more too.”

He huffed out a breathless laugh, then set his sights on the dummy standing at the far corner of the room. He lifted his head just slightly, and the dummy lurched forward, jerking across the floor. Then stopped mid-step as Steve narrowed his eyes. Its head popped clean off with a hollow crack.

Eddie clapped so loud his palms stung. “Holy shit, Harrington!”

He was grinning now, wide and feral, the thrill of control thrumming through every inch of him. He didn’t even notice his hand shaking until Eddie caught it, steadying him.

“You’re not broken.” Eddie murmured again, voice low and sure, meant just for him. “You’re fucking unstoppable.”

He nodded before pulling back slowly, a small smile on his lips. He turned back toward the decapitated training dummy, chest rising and falling in slow, steady pulls. The headless husk stood there near the middle of the destroyed items, lopsided and pathetic, but still enough of a target to tempt him. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as he focused.

“Alright.” He muttered under his breath, jaw clenched. “Let’s try it again.”

Eddie tilted his head, already reading the stubborn set of Stee’s shoulders. “Sweetheart, what’re you-” He stopped when he caught the fire in Steve’s eyes, the quiet determination. Eddie’s lips twitched up into a grin. “Oh. You’re going for the big guns.”

Steve didn’t answer. He only squared his stance, lifted his chin, and- without raising a finger this time- focused everything on the dummy. He tried to pull at it with his mind while pushing with the coiled pressure in his chest, his throat straining as a few low sounds escaped. A rough hiss, a broken start of a scream, but nothing sharp enough to carry.

The dummy wobbled on its stand, nothing more.

Eddie’s encouragement came quick. “You got it. Just a flicker. Now do it again.”

But still nothing.

Then Eddie’s voice lowered, his mouth barely moving, audible only to him. “You manage to do it sweetheart and I’ll give you a full body massage. And I do mean full body.”

His cheeks colored but he set his jaw and tried again. Another ragged noise slipped past his lips, more air than sound. The dummy trembled, tipping just slightly before righting itself again. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck.

He tried a third time, breath pulling in deep, his lungs burning as he forced the feeling outward. A strained, cracked sound clawed up his throat. The dummy rattled harder, a groan of plastic, rubber, and steel. Still not enough.

Frustration bubbled, but he ground it down. He closed his eyes, inhaling again, let Eddie’s warmth through the bond bleed into him- steady, an all too familiar feeling. When he opened his eyes again, they burned with determination.

The scream that tore out this time was sharp and high, vibrating the air like glass about to break. At the same moment, it was as if an invisible hand grabbed the dummy and yanked it off its base.

It shot upward, a blur of motion- and then it exploded mid-air, shards and fragments of plastic, stuffing raining down like confetti.

The room fell silent for a beat.

Then Eddie lost it. He cheered so loud it echoed, jumping up and down like he’d just witnessed a god shatter a guitar on stage. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT, STEVE! You blew it to pieces!” His grin was manic, eyes wide with awe, pride blazing off him so strong it nearly drowned Steve in it. He grabbed Steve by the cheeks and kissed him so hard it knocked the breath out of him.

Wayne clapped once- loud, sharp- then again, and again. A smile breaking across his face. “That was somethin’ else, son.”

Even Doc, normally impossible to impress, began a slow clap, his eyebrows high, mouth curved in a look of approval. “Extraordinary. Simply astounding.”

Steve laughed weakly, half in disbelief, half in sheer relief. His knees buckled, the rush leaving him almost as quickly as it had come, and he slumped against Eddie’s chest. Eddie caught him instantly, arms wrapping tight, rocking him just slightly.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Eddie murmured, still buzzing with excitement but gentling his tone for Steve alone.

He nodded against him, breath shallow. “Yeah. Just- little tired. Not bad tired. Just… Spent.”

Wayne stepped forward, a hand settling on each of their shoulders in a quick, firm squeeze. “You did good. Both of you. Damn proud of you, Steve. And you too, Ed. You kept him focused.” He gave them one last squeeze before stepping back. “I’ll get started on dinner. Think you’ve both earned it.”

That’s when it hit Steve- the clockless haze of training. He and Eddie both glanced toward the wall clock above the door, realization drawing. They’d been at this for hours, long enough to blur from mid-morning into evening without once noticing their hunger or the pull of time.

The perks of being undead.

Doc snapped his pen into his clipboard with finality, his expression softening. “That’s enough for today. Amazing progress boys. However, I want to see you, Steve, in the infirmary before dinner. I need to make sure there’s been no nerve or internal damage- no strain to the vocal cords, no tearing, no hidden hemorrhaging. Even without visible side effects, that kind of exertion is not often without risk.”

Steve groaned softly, his head pillowed against Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m fine, Doc.”

But Eddie cut in immediately, pressing a kiss into his temple, murmuring with a quiet firmness, “You’re going. No arguments. Let Doc do his job.”

He sighed, half put out, half secretly warmed by Eddie’s protectiveness. “Yeah, okay. Fine.”

Doc’s gaze flicked between the two of them, a small smile stretching the corner of his lips as he saw the way Steve leaned against Eddie’s chest, at the protective hold Eddie kept around Steve. He didn’t comment, only gestured toward the hall with his cane. "Let's move. The sooner we confirm you’re healthy, the sooner Wayne can feed us all.”

Eddie adjusted his grip, slinging Steve’s arm over his shoulder, his grin still bright with leftover excitement as they followed Doc out. “C’mon, sweetheart. You heard the man. Let’s get you checked out, then we’ll eat like kings. You’ve more than earned it.”

And though he was exhausted, he couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help the way his chest warmed under Eddie’s steady hold.

Eddie led him carefully down the hall, trailing after Doc’s steady gait and the clack… clack… clack of his cane against the cement floor. Steve leaned into Eddie more than he wanted to, his muscles loosen with exhaustion, the aftershocks of power still humming through his body like faint static.

Eddie didn’t complain once. If anything, he kept shooting Steve these sideways glances, little smirks tugging at his lips, like he couldn’t possibly be prouder if he tried.

The infirmary was near a quieter end of the bunker, tucked into one of the larger rooms that had once been used for storage. Doc had taken great pains to make it not look even close to the Lab.

The walls were painted in muted blues, soft and calming, not a sterile white or cold steel in sight. There were wide windows near the ceiling- fake, but lit with gentle lamps that mimic the daylight outside. The equipment was tucked away neatly, machines humming low, unobtrusive.

He paused in the doorway, fingers tightening on Eddie’s. The sight of medical tables and wires made something deep in his chest seize, memories clawing just beneath the surface. His mouth went dry.

Eddie noticed instantly, tugging him close. He bent his head, lips brushing against Steve’s temple as he whispered, low enough only for Steve to hear, “It’s not there, sweetheart. You’re safe. I’m right here. Always right here.”

He let out a shaky exhale and nodded, letting Eddie guide him in further. It may not be the Lab, it may look completely different, but the purpose was far too similar.

Doc glanced up from where he was setting out a tray, his tone brisk but gentle. “Sit there,” he said, motioning toward a padded exam bed in the middle of the room. It wasn’t a harsh slab of steel like in the lab- it was cushioned, covered in soft yellow fabric. A pillow even rested at the head.

He sank down slowly, Eddie immediately settling on the edge beside him, their hands still laced.

Doc rolled over one of the machines, checking the wires, the screen flickering to life. “We’ll start simple.” He explained. “A few ultrasounds- chest, throat, stomach. Just to ensure there are no tears or internal swelling.” His eyes flicked to Steve. “I’ll talk you through each step.”

He nodded stiffly, throat tight. Eddie squeezed his hand, leaning in close. “He’s just making sure you’re perfect, sweetheart. And I already know you are.” Eddie whispered quietly between them, the words loosening something in his chest, just enough to breathe.

Doc applied gel to the wand, pressing it gently but firmly against his throat. The cold made him flinch, but Eddie’s thumb brushed soothing circles over his knuckles to keep him from panicking. The machine whirred quietly as Doc angled the probe, watching the screen.

“Vocal cords look intact. No tears, no strain, and no scarring.”

He shifted down Steve’s chest, sliding the wand over his ribs, pausing here and there as he searched. Steve watched the screen uneasily, half-expecting Doc to frown, but Eddie leaned in and whispered, “Looks like a sci-fi movie. You’re like… Glowing in there.” He snorted, tension easing.

Doc gave a quiet hum of approval. “Everything’s normal here too. Quite surprising.”

Next came his stomach. The want pressed heavily against his abdomen, moving in slow sweeps. Eddie traced small patterns across the back of his hand now, murmuring softly about how Wayne was probably burning dinner by now, about how Steve owed him a rematch on the pool table later, and about wanting to break in the new couches at his house.

By the time Doc was finished, Steve had relaxed back against the cushioned exam table, tension having bled out of him.

Doc set aside the wand and slowly reached for a syringe. “One last step. I need to take just a small sample of blood. To be thorough. I’ll dispose of it immediately after.”

He tensed, his free hand curling into the fabric of the bed. The glint of the middle made his stomach twist, his heartbeat pick up.

Eddie immediately leaned close, their foreheads brushing. “Hey. Look at me, Stevie. Just me. Not the middle. Not Doc. Just my eyes. Focus.”

He did, locking onto the warm brown of Eddie’s gaze as Doc slid the needle into his vein. It was over in seconds, Eddie murmuring soft nonsense the entire time. “Good boy. That’s it. You’re fine. Done before you even blink. Not as nice as my fangs, I know.”

Doc capped the vial and wheeled the microscope over, placing a small sample on a slide. He peered through the lens, adjusting the knobs, his brow furrowing in concentration. Eddie’s arm stayed heavy around Steve, holding him against his side, patient despite his own curiosity as they watched on.

Finally, Doc leaned back, his face a mixture of surprise and admiration. “Astonishing. Either your regenerative abilities are that advanced, or…” He tapped the side of the microscope. “Or your powers do not cause the internal toll I’ve read about from the previous children in the rainbow room. There’s no tearing. No strain. The blood is pristine.”

Doc looked at Steve directly. “I’ll be honest with you. I’ve read the reports Brenner had on Eleven growing up. After a single push- nosebleeds, exhaustion, sometimes even fainting. You’ve gone hours today, and there’s nothing. Your body seems entirely unharmed.”

He blinked at him, disbelief written across his face. “So… I’m fine? Really.. Fine?”

Doc nodded. Then he got up suddenly, and put the vial, sample, and tools he used to take it, anything that touched his blood, into the trash bin. He grabbed something in an unlabeled bottle and dumped it on top, before pulling a lighter out of his pocket.

They watched in confusion as Doc lit the trashcan on fire, letting it burn bright for a few moments before bringing it over to the sink and letting it drown out under the tap. “Doc?” He asked hesitantly.

Doc shook his head, staring at the still smoking trashcan. “I needed to dispose of your blood, best way to do it is to burn it. Make sure there’s no possibility of anyone ever finding a drop of it. If anyone ever found down here, I need to make sure you’re both safe.”

“As I was saying..” Doc straightened his shirt walking back to his chair. “You’re better than fine. You’re unique. Built for this, perhaps. It’s why I needed to make sure that your blood was destroyed.”

Steve sagged in relief, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding leaving his chest. Eddie squeezed him tighter, pride radiating through the bond so strongly it almost made Steve dizzy. “Hear that?” Eddie grinned, leaning down to kiss his hair. “You’re not just fine- you’re a goddamn miracle, Harrington.”

He flushed, ducking his head against Eddie’s shoulder, but he couldn’t stop the tiny smile from spilling across his lips. For the first time, he didn’t feel broken, or like some accident waiting to happen. He felt.. Enough. Steady even.

Doc began tidying up his instruments, already scribbling down notes. “Go on. Wayne will be expecting you both for dinner. I’ll be there shortly.”

Eddie hopped off the bed, tugging Steve gently to his feet. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go eat before Wayne gets the bright idea to try a new recipe on us, again.”

He laughed quietly, leaning into him as they walked out together, lighter now than when they’d gone in.

They padded down the hallways and into the kitchen hand in hand, fingers laced, the faint scent of soap from the infirmary still clinging to Steve’s skin.

The warmth hit them first- the quiet hum of the oven, the faint crackle of food, and smell, cornbread cooling on the counter, the savory richness of butter and seared meat filling the air.

Wayne stood at the stove, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, spatula in hand. He glanced up as the boys entered, his face softening with something quiet and proud. “‘Bout time.” He drawled, turning back to the cast-iron pan. “Was starting to wonder if Doc kidnapped you again.”

Steve chuckled softly, still flushed from earlier, but he leaned into Eddie’s side instead of offering excuses. The older man’s dry humor always pulled at something soft in his chest. Eddie gave his hand a squeeze, like he knew, then Eddie inhaled deeply. “Smells like heaven in here, old man.”

Wayne gave a soft smile, shaking his head. “Steak and heaven don't usually go in the same sentence for me, but I’ll take it.” He lifted two thick cuts onto a waiting platter, juices pooling beneath them. “Seared, but still very rare for you two.” His gaze flickered toward them knowingly. “Bit weird, but in line for you boys.”

He ducked his head, murmuring, “Yeah. Thanks, Wayne.” The flush in his cheeks deepened though whether from hunger or the faint embarrassment of being so seen, Eddie couldn’t tell.

On the counter, two large mugs waited. Steam still faintly rising from them, the sharp metallic tang in the air told him exactly what they held. Human blood. Warmed just to body temperature, a necessity Doc often procured for them without a fuss. Eddie made a soft, pleased noise and tugged him toward them. “Look at that- these old men know how to spoil us.”

Wayne didn’t comment, simply flipped the last steak onto another platter, then reached for the potatoes. He and Eddie settled at the table, sliding their mugs close. They shared a brief look before sipping in tandem. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth trickle down his throat, eating something deep inside him that training and reassurances couldn’t quite reach.

They’d barely finished their first swallows when he, out of instinct, started to push up from his chair. “Alright, let us help-”

Wayne turned sharply, one brow raised, spatula still in hand. “Sit your behind down. Ain’t no sense in training yourself to the bone then ruining it by fussing over a few plates. ‘Sides. Contrary to what Ed’s says, I’m not ancient. I can still very much cook and serve up dinner.”

Eddie smirked, nudging Steve with his knee under the table. ‘Told you so.’ He whispered smugly through the bond. Steve rolled his eyes and took another sip from his mug as he settled into his chair, but his smile stayed.

A few moments later, the steady clack clack clack of Doc’s cane echoed down the hall. The old man appeared in the doorway, still holding his ever present clipboard. Without a word, he set it down on the counter and stepped right up beside Wayne, sleeves rolled up past his elbows.

He plucked the tongs from Wayne’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and started plating green beans while Wayne ladled butter over a steak.

-This is weird right?-

‘Oh abso-fuckin-lutely.’

Neither man said anything about the sudden teamwork, but Steve caught the faint lift of Wayne’s brow, the twitch of Doc’s lips. Comfortable silence wrapped around them, broken only by the scrape of serving spoons, the clatter of pans.

By the time Wayne turned with the first loaded plate, Doc already had plated and lined up in a neat row. Eddie whispered too low for either of them to hear, amused. “It’s like watching some kind of secret married couples in the kitchen act.”

He snorted into his mug, nearly choking, and Eddie thumped his back with a grin.

Finally, Wayne and Doc carried everything over, setting it down on the table until it nearly groaned beneath the weight Thick steaks seared beautifully, baked potatoes split open and steaming, all the toppings scattered around, skins crisped to perfection, green beans glossy with seasoning, golden cornbread still warm from the oven.

Wayne set a rare steak before Steve, another before Eddie, then slid into his chair with his own plate. Doc followed a beat later, his medium-rare steak steaming, already cutting off the fat with a surgeon’s precision.

He murmured a soft thank you, Eddie adding in his own loud and dramatic, “Chef Wayne, you’ve outdone yourself yet again!” Wayne rolled his eyes but smiled at them both, a pleased warmth in his scent that Steve caught even beneath the blood and food.

The four of them ate together in a quiet rhythm, a little family stitched together by strange circumstances and hard won battles. Eddie hummed around every bite like it was the best meal of his life, and Steve couldn’t help smiling at him, a familiar warmth blooming in his chest.

For once, no one talked about labs or powers or what came next. They just ate. They laughed a little. And he realized- this was what he’d been trying to build when he started fixing his house, when he dreamed up movie nights and game rooms and family dinners. Something that felt… Normal. Something he didn’t have growing up.

And he glanced around the table- Eddie grinning with juices dripping down his chin, Wayne methodically buttering a hunk of cornbread, Doc making neat notes on his clipboard between bites- he thought maybe, just maybe, he’d managed it.

As they wound down from the long day, the kitchen was quiet again- dishes washed and stacked neatly, leftovers packed away in the fridge, the faint scent of seared meat and butter still lingering in the air.

Steve sat with another steaming mug of blood cradled between his palms, the warmth seeping pleasantly into his fingers. Eddie leaned into his side, his curls brushing against Steve’s cheek as he sipped from his own mug, smiling against the rim like he was in on some private joke.

And maybe he was, because he could hear Eddie’s faint humming between the bond, the connection too open from how far he pushed himself today. It was soft, a song maybe, it sounded familiar.

Between them sat a plate holding what remains of a thick slice of cake Wayne had picked up from the bakery in town- something rich and chocolatey with cream cheese icing swirled around the top. Eddie had insisted they share it, taking lazy bites from Steve’s fork, grinning every time Steve gave him a mock glare before letting him steal another forkful.

Wayne and Doc were finishing their own slices across the table. The only sounds in the kitchen were the scrape of forks, the faint hum of the fridge, the occasional sip from a mug, and the pleased hums between them. It was almost domestic.

Until Wayne cleared his throat.

“Now,” he began, voice low, “I don’t mean to interrupt y’er moment over there. But I feel I should tell you what happened t’day.”

Both he and Eddie sat up straighter, their mugs lowered to the table with soft clinks. Eddie’s brows furrowed, and Steve felt a faint twist of unease in his stomach.

Wayne set his fork down with deliberate care, as though bracing himself. “Owens listened to some of your ideas about the covers. Called in a few people- trusted ones. Right now it’s all bein’ kept under lots of red tape. But it’s movin’ forward. So far, it seems your coma story might be the most believable.”

Relief hit him in a sudden rush, his body sagging back against the chair. He caught Eddie’s exhale beside him, both of them letting out sighs heavy enough to carry weeks of tension. For the first time, the idea of a way back- some semblance of a life, some kind or normalcy- seemed within reach.

“So…” He started quietly, more hesitant than he wanted to sound. “How long do you think it’ll take?” He tried to keep his voice even, but the fear slipped through anyway- fear of being trapped in limbo, of more waiting.

Wayne drew in a deep breath, thumb quietly tapping against the side of his coffee mug before he slowly let the breath out. “I’m not sure.” He admitted. “Ji-.. Hopper, is pressing down on them, hard. I think he feels like he owes it to you boys, makin’ sure you’re not left out in the rain or forgotten. So… Hopefully, it’ll work out pretty fast.”

He nodded, staring down at the swirl of dark red in his mug. He took a sip, the warmth settling in his chest, then he asked the question that mattered most: “So… What about safety? From Brenner. From the Lab that uh.. Grey Room.”

That made Wayne pause. -Not a good sign. Never a good sign.- He lifted his eyes slowly, steady but weighted, then gave a small nod. “They’ve agreed to inform the soldiers around town as they’re all under strict secretary oaths already. -Oh.- Teams of their guards are stationed, patrollin’ too. They’ll be on the lookout, makin’ sure no one gets close who shouldn’t. So..” He tipped his mug back, took a long drink before continuing.

“There should be very little chance of anyone gettin’ through. Long as you’re careful. Stick to the bounds they set for you. Which, truth be told, is about the same as what the rest of the town’s livin’ under these days. Keep to the more populated areas, the spots with guard presence. Safer that way.”

He tilted his head, mulling it over, but unease still prickled under his skin. “So we’re basically penned in with the rest of Hawkins. We trade one cafe for another. Even if it is.. Roomier.”

“Safer penned in than stayin’ out where the ground still crawls with those things.” Wayne said simply.

“Demogorgons.” Eddie supplied, nodding as if giving the monsters an official name would make the rules easier to swallow. “That sounds… Manageable.” He shifted his mug between his palms, shoulders rolling back like he’d made peace with the idea.

Doc, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke up, his voice even and measured. “Manageable is the right word. The truth is- your safety is priority. It seems Owens understands that now. Jim Hopper’s making sure of it.” His sharp eyes flicked between Steve and Eddie. “And between us- no one’s looking to repeat what was done to you. Not if any of us have anything to say about it.”

The reassurance settled over them like a thin blanket. Not perfect, but enough to take the edge off.

He let out a slow breath, and leaned into Eddie’s shoulder again. He felt Eddie’s chin drop to rest lightly against the top of his head, their bond pulsing with quiet comfort, Eddie silently pushing a thought through.

‘We’ve got this. Anything happens, we can smell or hear the Demogorgons or whatever, out in the woods. We run there, avoid the monsters, let them take the idiots out. We make out way back here to safety.’

He pushed a soft brush of comfort through the bond. -Yeah.. Alright. Anything happens, we let the creatures from hell take out the assholes from Hawkins and book it back here.-

For a while after that, no one spoke. The cake was finished, the mugs drained. Wayne reached over to nudge his plate to the center of the table, like marking the end of the meal. The quiet that followed was no longer heavy- it was warm. Lived in.

He felt himself soften into it, his body relaxing slowly. The future didn’t look like a looming wall anymore. It looked… Possible.

Later, after Wayne had retired with a muttered “I’ll be staying here tonight. Shout if you need me” and Doc had disappeared back into his office with a stack of notes, Steve and Eddie slipped away.

The corridors of the bunker were hushed, the hum of ventilation soft and steady in the background, the air faintly tinged with metal and concrete, things they’d learned how to mostly block out by now.

Eddie’s hand was threaded through his as they padded down the hall toward Eddie’s room. Down here there were no windows, no way to measure night against day except by the blocks on the walls or the shifting lights that mimicked the sun. But for then, it didn’t matter- inhuman eyes carved the darkness into shared and outlines, the familiar hallways clear as daylight.

Eddie’s door creaked faintly as he pushed it open with his shoulder, tugging Steve in behind him. The room smelled like them- the conditioner Steve used that Eddie loved, Eddie’s cologne that Steve loved, the faint smell of sex, mixed together with clean laundry Wayne had bullied Eddie into folding.

A few stacks of comics and cassettes lined the dresser, Steve’s notebook and favorite sweater sitting next to them. A mess of strings and loose paper tucked beside an old guitar case that now had ‘Stevie’ drawn near the buckle on it with a small heart. A mix of them both scattered around the room, making it nearly impossible to tell who it originally belonged to. The same happening in Steve’s room.

No lamp clicked on. They didn’t bother. The dark wrapped around them naturally, soft, easy. Eddie dropped Steve’s hand only long enough to toss his jacket to the corner chair before flopping back on the bed, limbs spread like a starfish. He patted the mattress beside him, curls spilling against the pillow.

He followed more carefully, toeing off his shoes before easing down, propping himself on one elbow as he looked at Eddie, really looked at him. In the dark, Eddie’s grin caught like a flash of light- sharp and mischievous, but softened at the edges just for him.

“Y’know,” Eddie murmured, shifting to curl onto his side, his cheek propped in his hand. “Today was insane. Like… Insane, insane. My boyfriend moved a whole stack of chairs with his mind then exploded a training dummy with a scream. You get that’s not normal, right? Like, you’re ridiculously metal now man.”

He snorted, trying not to preen under the praise, but Eddie could feel it echoing through the bond- the flicker of pride, the warmth, the tired ache of satisfaction. “Yeah, well, I had a pretty good cheerleader.”

Eddie pressed a hand to his chest, feigning a dramatic swoon. “Basketball star Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington himself compliments lil ole me. I might never recover.”

He rolled his eyes, nudging Eddie’s leg with his knee. “Shut up.” But the smile stretching his lips ruined the weight of it. He settled down more fully beside Eddie, their foreheads brushing in the dark, their breaths mingling.

Silence stretched comfortably for a while, the kind of quiet that filled the space around them. The rhythm of their bond- steady, calm, connected. Steve traced idle shapes against Eddie’s wrist with his thumb, relaxing into the simplicity of touch after the chaos of training and heavy conversations.

Eddie sighed, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “You were amazing today, sweetheart. Like.. Watching you figure it out, seeing you own it instead of it owning you? I’ve never been prouder. You’re incredible.”

Steve hummed, eyes closing briefly as the words sank in, though he was also trying to hide his embarrassment from the bond. “Couldn’t’ve done it without you. Didn’t believe I could.” He tilted his head to press his lips lightly against Eddie’s shoulder. “You kept me from losing it. Kept me from freaking out when it didn’t work right.”

Eddie smirked into the dark, free hand moving up slowly to brush a stand of hair behind Steve’s ear. “Guess that makes us a pretty good team.”

He shifted, burrowing closer until his head fit beneath Eddie’s chin, their bodies moulding together with a practiced ease. His voice came low now, almost incoherent, heavy with exhaustion but laced with something soft. “Yeah. The best.”

Eddie’s arm tightened around him as it slid around his waist, his lips pressing against Steve’s hair in the quiet. The world outside the bunker might’ve still been dangerous, still filled with things and people that wanted them dead, but here- in the dark, in Eddie’s bed- it felt safe.

The hum of ventilation overhead became the only steady sound, low and constant in the silence. Neither of them felt the need to try and fill it.

He shifted just slightly, tucking his face closer against Eddie’s chest, the fabric of his shirt cool, carrying the familiar scent of detergent and something distinctly Eddie. Eddie breathed out slowly, the rise and fall of his chest crushing against Steve’s cheek, steady as if daring Steve’s restless heart to match his rhythm.

Through the bond, there was no sharp edge, no flicker of fear. Just warmth, contentment, the buzzing undercurrent of Eddie’s quiet joy. He threaded his fingers lazily through Steve’s hair, not to soothe him into sleep, but because the motion felt right.

Steve murmured something half-formed, the words melting away before they reached his lips. Eddie only hummed in response, low in his chest, like he understood anyway. His hand never stilling.

The air around them wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t suffocating like the Lab’s had been. Here, in Eddie’s room, in the bunker, the shadows felt like a blanket. Protective. Familiar.

His breath slowed, his body sagged further, tension he hadn’t realised he was still carrying bleeding away in increments. Eddie tilted his head enough to press a kiss into his hair, soft and unhurried, lingering there like a promise.

Neither of them said goodnight. They didn’t have the energy to.

In the quiet, wrapped in each other, they drifted- together- into a rare, peaceful rest. Hopeful about the future.

Notes:

You all thought I'd just let Steve start to heal?
Ha!
I just needed some comfort chapters for myself. But where's the angst, you asked? Oh.. Just you wait! He's still a lost little vampire who can't trust his own mind.

Chapter 37: Shadow Of The Past

Summary:

He couldn’t focus on a single voice- only the roar of his own heart in his ears and the echo of FearTerrorHorror reverberating back and forth between him and Eddie.

Notes:

Yes, the kiddos are nearly adults here, but Steve still sees them as his kids. Still just little brats.

They’d climbed higher than most people would dare. But the branch they settled on was thick enough to easily hold them both without creaking, but not so wide that they weren’t pressed close, tangled together. The wood stretched out around them, quiet but alive with the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of insects. Animals were keeping a wide berth, away from the two predators in the woods.

Eddie lounged half-propped against the trunk, one boot braced on the branch to steady them both, the other wrapped tight around Steve’s thigh to keep him close. His arm slung comfortably around Steve’s waist.

Steve sprawled over him like he belonged there, chest to chest, tangled lazily around one another. Hips rolling lazily in a rhythm that wasn’t conscious so much as inevitable. Their position might’ve been precarious, but he didn’t care as he pressed into Eddie’s mouth with languid kisses, unhurried, tasting and teasing like they had nowhere else in the world to be.

They’d wandered here out of boredom, restless from days underground. Hopper’s cabin just in the distance. They’d been given a key and permission of free use to come and go as they pleased. But neither of them wanted to be boxed in right now. They’d just come out here to be alone. The open air feeling too good to give it up for four walls.

Not long earlier, they’d taken a walk, carefully, around the border of Hawkins. In broad daylight. They’d kept their ears peeled and constantly scenting the air to make sure they were safe, alone.

They’d heard Joyce and Hopper corralling Eleven, Will, and Max- something about heading to the Hawkins Lab for who knows what. The rest of the Party they’d heard split off toward the arcade, arguing over high scores and which pizza to get afterward. Everyone not there had been scattered around at work or running errands.

Which left the woods blessedly empty. Just the two of them, high in a tree, lips brushing, tongues tangling, kisses so slow they bordered on lazy but burned all the same.

He hummed into Eddie’s mouth, a sound of contentment more than anything, and Eddie’s grin curled against his lips before pulling him down again, deeper, messier. The world below might as well not exist.

Steve broke away for half a second, breath ghosting over Eddie’s jaw before trailing kisses down the column of his throat. Eddie’s head thumped back against the tree, eyes fluttering shyly as his fingers curled into Steve’s shirt, holding him there. The low sound that left him was more growl than sigh.

“God, sweetheart.” Eddie rasped, the heat in his chest spilling out through the bond, thick and intoxicating. His hand skimmed down Steve’s side, slipping under his shirt to trace the warm ridges of muscle before dipping lower, hovering just above the waistband of his jeans.

He arched just slightly into the touch, lips brushing Eddie’s collarbone, and Eddie’s grin turned sharp. Slowly, deliberately, he slipped his hand under the denim and found bare skin waiting for him.

“No fuckin’ way.” Eddie breathed against his ear, voice dark with delight as he roughly squeezed his ass cheek. Eddie’s growl rumbled out, more in hunger than disbelief. “You came out here without underwear?”

He shivered under the touch, his answering hum low and smug, teeth gently catching Eddie’s earlobe. “Mm, maybe I forgot.”

“Uh-uh.” The reply was edged rough with a laugh. His hand splaying over Steve’s ass, dragging him closer, grinding their hips together in a way that nearly knocked Steve’s balance off the branch. “That’s no accident, Harrington.”

He laughed breathlessly against Eddie’s throat, but the sound melted into a gasp when the other squeezed harder, kneading the flesh in his palm like he could brand the shape of him into memory. Their bond flared hot, Eddie’s hunger and delight crashing through it.

“Fuck, you drive me insane.” Eddie murmured, leaning down to kiss him again with less patience this time. It was still lazy, still slow, but heavy- wet, needy, like neither of them planned to stop anytime soon. Steve melted into it, hips pressing down into Eddie’s, fingers curling into his hair, dragging them closer together.

Above them, leaves shifted with the wind, branches swaying, but neither noticed. They were high up, balanced on nothing more than bark and pleasure, the danger only sharpening it- made the kisses burn deeper, the clutch of hands tighter, every brush of teeth and tongue feeling like falling and being caught at the same time.

His muffled groan broke the quiet of the woods, swallowed quickly by Eddie, whose thumb brushed in slow circles over the bare skin he’d claimed, savoring, possessive, like he couldn’t believe his luck.

They had all the time in the world, and neither was in any rush to let go.

Lips moved in unhurried drags that left them both humming low in their throats. Steve shifted, just slightly, pressing himself more firmly against Eddie, mouth parting under the insistent tug of teeth. The kiss deepened, still moving lazily but not weighted, heat threading between them in every unhurried swipe of tongue.

Eddie let his head fall back again against the rough bark, eyes half-lidded, mouth tugging into a crooked grin even as he let Steve kiss him slow and deep. “You know,” he murmured against his lips, voice husky with the scrape of want, “never thought I’d be makin’ out in a tree like some hormonal teenager. But here I am. With you of all people.”

He huffed a laugh into his mouth, not pulling back far, just brushing his nose against Eddie’s, lips still ghosting over his as he whispered, “You complaining?”

“Hell no.” Eddie caught his bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently until a soft sound clawed its way from Steve. “I’m just sayin’, Harrington- king of Hawkins High, golden boy, Mr. Perfect hair- not officially my make-out in a tree buddy. Didn’t see that on my bingo card.”

A soft grin split his lips, cheeks warm even as he rolled his eyes. “You never shut up, do you?” He muttered, leaning back in to claim another kiss, deeper this time, almost like he was trying to silence him with his mouth alone.

Eddie groaned into it, giving another, more gentle squeeze to Steve’s ass. “Mmm, no.” He broke off just enough to nip at the corner of Steve’s jaw. “Not when I’ve got this. Now then you taste like this.” He dragged his mouth over and up to his ear, murmuring. “Besides, it drives you crazy. Admit it.”

His laugh was breathless, muffled against Eddie’s shoulder as he buried his face there for a moment, then tilted back up for another kiss. Their mouths met again, messier this time, lips slick and hungry, though the pace still lingered in that lazy middle ground- unhurried, unbothered, but full of heat.

Eddie shifted slightly, rolling his hips as his palm spread wide over the curve of Steve’s ass, giving another firm squeeze. The groan Steve made vibrated straight into his mouth. He growled low, almost feral at the edges, then pulled back only enough to look at him, eyes dark and blown. His grin tilted wickedly. “Seriously Stevie, you tryin’ to kill me up here or what?”

He flushed, quickly chasing Eddie’s lips again to hide it, muttering against them. “Really didn’t think you’d complain.”

“Oh, baby.” Eddie rumbled, squeezing again, dragging Steve flush against him with the hand hooked in his jeans. “I’m not complaining. Not even close. I just-” He bit back another growl, nipping at Steve’s bottom lip, “-need you to know how much that little detail is gonna ruin me for the rest of the day.”

Steve laughed softly, kissing him again, the sound muffled between their lips. “Guess that’s what you get for climbing trees with me.”

“Mm, guess so.” Eddie agrees.

He hummed low into Eddie’s mouth, kisses slowing, dragging pulls that felt less like afternoon boredom and more like feeding a hunger they never seemed to shake. The branch swayed beneath them with the shift of their weight, but neither cared. If anything, Steve pressed himself down harder, legs tightening around Eddie’s.

Eddie groaned, muffled into Steve’s lips, his hand still cupping his ass. He squeezed once, rough, letting his blunt nails gently scrape over skin. Then he pulled back a fraction to murmur against his lips. “You’re ridiculous, Harrington. Really. Draggin’ me all the way out here to climb trees like we’re twelve. And then-” He roughly squeezed again, grin sharp. “-showin’ up like this. No underwear. What am I supposed to do with you?”

He groaned, which was swallowed into their kiss. “Mm, screw you, Munson. Comin’ out here was your idea.” He rolled his hips away from the nails, gasping against his lips. “Pretty sure you’ve figured it all out.”

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.” Eddie gasped, brushing his lips over Steve’s again, not quite kissing, just letting the heat of his breath linger there. His eyes flicked down to Steve’s mouth, then back up, dark and burning, teasing. “You keep moving against me like that, sweetheart, and this little tree make-out is gonna turn into somethin’ the neighbors are gonna hear from a mile away.”

His grin widened, teeth catching Eddie’s bottom lip in a playful, almost rough, bite. “No neighbors for miles,” he murmured, smug. “We double checked.”

That earned him another growl, Eddie’s free hand sliding up his spine and tangling into his hair at the nape of his neck. He tugged, not harshly, just enough to make Steve gasp against him. “God, you’re unreal.” He whispered, lips dragging down the line of Steve’s jaw to scrape his teeth gently against the tendon of his neck. “You got any idea what you do to me?”

His reply came out shaky, muffled against Eddie’s ear as he pressed his face behind it. “Probably the same thing you do to me.” He shifted his hips deliberately, just enough to make Eddie suck in a sharp breath.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie hissed, head thumping back against the tree with a laugh that was more breath and sound. “Obsessed. Absolutely obsessed. I swear, Harrington, we don’t even need blood. We could live off this shit.”

Steve chuckled into his shoulder now, kissing there, then lifted his head just enough to kiss Eddie again, slow and slippy, their mouths dragging together like neither of them could stop even if they wanted to. “You complaining yet?”

“Not in this lifetime.” Eddie muttered, fingers tightening his hair as he pulled him down for another deep kiss. The branch creaked faintly under them, but Steve just shifted higher, draping himself more fully over Eddie, like he was daring the tree to break before he let go.

Between kisses, Eddie kept muttering, half growl, half grin: “Crazy about you.” Kiss. “Fuckin’ ridiculous.” Kiss. “All mine.” Kiss.

And Steve, flushed and smiling, whispered back against his lips, “All yours.”

Eddie’s hand on his ass moved roughly through his jeans, dragging to his hips, thumb pressing heavily in slow circles that had Steve gasping into his mouth. Their kisses were all teeth and tongue, messy and unhurried, but greedy, like neither of them could get enough.

He braced his forearm on the tree behind Eddie’s head, pressing closer, practically sprawling his whole body over him. His hips rolled just enough to drag another groan out of Eddie who swallowed it down straight into Steve’s mouth before chasing it with a bite against his lips.

“Fuck-” Eddie broke off, panting against Steve’s cheek, his hand gripping tighter at his hip like he couldn’t bare to let go. “You trying to kill me, Harrington?”

He huffed a laugh, kissing along Eddie’s jaw. “Thought we’ve been over this Munson, we’re technically dead.”

“Definitely not when you’re doin-” Eddie cut off with a sharp hiss as Steve shifted his hips again, rubbing against him in a way that made both of them groan. “-not when you’re doing that, baby.”

The bond was buzzing between them so loud it was almost dizzying. Eddie’s chest rose and fell quick under Steve’s weight, his heart a stuttering rhythm that matched Steve’s. Steve buried his face into Eddie’s neck for a moment, kissing and sucking lightly at the skin there, just enough to make Eddie shiver and growl low in the back of his throat.

Eddie’s laugh broke through suddenly, breathless but adoring. “Christ, you’re addictive. Like-” He yanked Steve by the hair, pulling him into a rough kiss. “-like I could rot away right here and I’d die all over again, happy.”

His only answer was another roll of his hips, lips swollen and wet, eyes half-lidded with the kind of dazed smile that said he believed every word Eddie just said.

Their rhythm got rougher, hungrier- kisses turning frantic, hands grasping harder, both of them shifting too much on the branch in their want. It wasn’t until the thick wood beneath them let out a sharp, echoing crack that they froze.

Steve pulled back, wide-eyed, both of them holding perfectly still as the tree swayed.

“Uh.” He blinked down at Eddie, lips still red and kiss-bitten. “That.. Was the branch, wasn’t it?”

Eddie let out a strangled laugh, still catching his unneeded breath, forehead pressed to Steve’s. “Yep. That was the branch. Jesus, sweetheart- we’re about to go down like a couple’a horny squirrels.”

He laughed then, shaky but genuine, his chest still pressed to Eddie’s as the branch steadied under their combined weight.

“Guess that’s our cue to.. Slow down.” He murmured, still gripping as he leaned down to give a soft kiss.

Eddie nipped at his lower lip one more time, eyes glinting. “Slow down, sure. Stop? Not a chance.”

---

Steve groaned, tugging up the zipper of his jeans as Eddie watched on, sprawled out in the grass at the base of the tree. Another zipper sounded as Eddie pulled up his own, smirking shamelessly.

“Not a word.” He muttered, voice still rough, cheeks pink as the bond flared hot with Eddie’s amusement.

“Mm, wasn’t gonna say anything.” Eddie stretched his arms out behind his head like a cat, eyes glinting. “Already carved the image into my brain for later, Harrington. Don’t you worry.”

He rolled his eyes, shoving at Eddie’s leg with his shoe before offering a hand. “C’mon. I don’t feel like going inside and we don’t need Hopper coming back and finding us looking all-..”

“Fucked out?” Eddie supplied.

“Mm. He doesn’t need that image coming up when he thinks of his house.. C’mon, Munson.”

Eddie snorted but took his hand, letting himself be hauled to his feet. Their fingers laced automatically, as natural as breathing, palms pressed tight. Steve didn’t even think about it anymore- holding Eddie’s hand was second nature. They were always touching in some way these days.

They slipped back into the cover of the trees, moving in an easy silence. The air was thick with the scent of damp leaves and wood, that earthy bite of summer clinging to the ground. They padded softly over roots and moss, careful to keep their steps light.

Every so often, they paused, tilting their heads just slightly as they scented the air, nostrils flaring. Eddie just followed his lead, pulling in slow breaths, searching for anything off- soldiers, their cigarettes and gun oil. Or worse. The sour, metallic rot of a Demogorgon nearby.

But nothing yet. Just the rich scent of the woods, the faint trace of a rabbit somewhere ahead, the distant smoke of something burning from town drifting faintly through the trees.

‘Clear?’ Eddie gently pushed through the bond, they wouldn’t talk aloud until they were certain.

He nodded. -Clear.. For now.-

They walked on, slower now, not because they needed to but because they wanted to. Their joined hands swung lazily between them, brushing against their thighs. Occasionally, Eddie tugged Steve close enough to bump shoulders, earning a small huff of laughter through the quiet.

“Y’know,” Eddie whispered after a while, grin tugging at his lips, “kinda feels like we’re in one of those fairytale woods. The whole enchanted forest thing. Two lost little vampires on a quest.”

He glanced at Eddie, smirking. “Except instead of finding treasure or returning the one ring, we’re just trying not to run into government goons until they know about us. Or face-eating monsters.”

“Details.” Eddie said with a wave of his free hand, eyes still shining with mischief. “Every epic’s gotta have its villains.”

He huffed but couldn’t stop the small smile lighting up his face. He gave Eddie’s hand a tight squeeze, thumb brushing lazily against him as they kept walking deeper into the quiet woods, listening, watching.

The forest seemed to stretch endlessly, but there was no hurry in their steps. The two of them wandered as though they had nowhere else to be, hands staying linked, brushing shoulders now and then when the trees grew too close. The hush of the woods pressed in close, not suffocating but soothing, broken only by the crunch of leaves underfoot or the distant call of a bird overhead.

Every so often Steve tilted his head, senses reaching out- straining his ears to hear any distant sounds, nose catching faint threads of scents through the heavy air. Nothing hostile, nothing sharp or out of place. Just the soft musk of deer further off, the sharp scent of a rabbit’s fear, the faint tang of damp earth where water had pooled earlier. He let himself breathe it all in, enjoying the fresh air.

-I’ll never take it for granted again. Being free, fresh air… Being with Eddie.-

Eddie never let go of his hand, not once. He hummed tunelessly under his breath sometimes, breaking into little comments that made Steve shake his head and grin- pointing out a fallen log that “looked suspiciously like a dragon skull” or a hollowed out stump he insisted was "prime fairy real estate.” It had Steve looking at him with an almost dopey expression.

It felt almost… Normal. Not bunker walls, not sterile labs, not training or hiding. Just the two of them, wandering a forest like kids who had skipped school.

Eventually, the air seemed to become lighter, until they suddenly stepped into a clearing. It was wide, maybe fifty feet across, an open space nestled in the middle of the woods. Flower patches dotted around the mossy floor- bursts of yellows, greens, and white scattered like paint splatters on a canvas.

The canopy above bent inward, branches arching toward each other like they’d grown that way on purpose, weaving together in a loose shelter that filtered the harsh afternoon sun into a soft dappled glow. The air around the space felt cooler, hushed in a way that made it seem like the clearing had been waiting, for them.

Eddie let out a low whistle. “Well, shit. If this isn’t straight outta Narnia, I don’t know what is.”

Steve’s lips twitched, eyes scanning across the flowers before he looked back at Eddie. “You’re such a nerd.” He muttered, giving him that look again.

“Mm, and you love it.” Eddie didn’t give him a chance to argue. With all the grace of a performer finishing a monologue, his fingers slipped from Steve’s and he threw himself backward into a patch of moss. The sound was soft, muffled by the thick green growth, and he sprawled there dramatically, curls fanning around his head. “Ah, yes. This is where I die, finally at peace. Buried by the flowers, mourned by the squirrels.”

He huffed a laugh, but before he could respond, Eddie’s hand shot up, fingers curling into the front of his shirt and yanked. “And you’re comin’ with me, Harrington.”

He stumbled, caught off guard, and fell forward with a grunt, bracing his hands against the moss just in time not to crush himself over Eddie entirely. Eddie only laughed, the sound bright and wickedly pleased, arms looping around Steve’s waist to hold him close.

The moss was cool and soft beneath them, the air thick with the scent of leaves and faint blossoms. Steve let himself hover there, his forehead dropping against Eddie’s chest as he mumbles, “You’re such an idiot, Munson.”

Eddie smiled against his hair, pressing a kiss into it. “Yeah.. But I’m your idiot. And look-” he gestured lazily up toward the canopy, sunlight dripping through the leaves like liquid. “Not a bad place to waste an afternoon, huh?”

He huffed again but didn’t move away, didn’t even wiggle. He let his weight settle more comfortably against Eddie, one of Eddie’s hands finding the small of his back, the other sliding up to thread through his hair gently.

For the first time all day, Steve let himself really relax, just listening to the faint rhythm of Eddie’s heart beneath his head and the soft rustle of the trees around them.

Eddie’s hand trailed slowly up and down his back, not rushed, not urgent- just a soft back and forth motion meant to soothe. His other hand stayed tangled in Steve’s hair, blunt nails scratching light at his scalp, and Steve all but melted under the touch, his eyes slipping shut.

“You know,” Eddie whispered after a while, voice softer than the leaves shifting overhead, “if anyone ever told me I’d get to spend an afternoon like this- with you, no less- I’d have thought they were on something… Probably special K.”

His lips curled faintly against Eddie’s chest, warm and weighted as he slowly opened his eyes. “Guess we’re both lucky then.”

Eddie chuckled, a low hum that vibrated through Steve’s cheek. “You have no idea, sweetheart.. No idea.”

He didn’t answer, letting the silence stretch on, the sound of the woods filling in around them- the faint chirp of some birds, the distant snap of a twig, the rustle of squirrels darting up and across trees. It felt good, heavy in a way that rest was supposed to feel.

Eventually, he lifted his head just enough to meet Eddie’s eyes. They seemed to glow faintly in the shade, that sharp, mischievous light softened by the calm around them. “Feels… Normal.” He admitted. “Like we’re just… Ditching the world for a while.”

Eddie’s sharp grin softened into a soft, sweet smile, his thumb brushing absent circles into Steve’s side. “Yeah. Like the world can wait. Just us, the trees, and-” he tilted his head back dramatically, eyes shutting. “-the glorious sound of my spine finally relaxing.”

He laughed softly under his breath, the sound low but warm. He shifted just enough to curl his arm around Eddie’s middle, holding him tighter, like he was afraid if he let go the peace would dissolve.

Neither of them spoke for a long while after that. They didn’t need to. The bond sung low and steady between them, a quiet thrum of contentment, of safety, of something that felt dangerously close to home.

Eddie’s breathing evened out slowly, steady and calm beneath his ear, and Steve let himself drift with it, his own eyelids fluttering as the afternoon light filtered in soft through the canopy.

Here, in the middle of the woods, with Eddie’s arms around him and the world held at bay, Steve allowed himself to simply just be. No battles. No training. No labs. No covers to keep up. Just quiet. Just them.

He shifted, draping his leg more securely over Eddie’s, rubbing his cheek gently against Eddie’s chest to get more comfortable. Eddie’s arms stayed looped around his back, hand tracing idly along the curve of his spine, even half-asleep he couldn’t keep himself from touching him.

The air around them was comfortable, not stifling, the shade keeping the worst of the afternoon sun at bay. A soft breeze slipped through the clearing, brushing softly against them, ruffling Eddie’s hair so that a strand tickled against Steve’s forehead. Neither of them could be bothered to move it.

They kept an ear out, instincts sharp even in the pace they’d found. But there was nothing- no soldiers patrolling anywhere close, no Demogorgons lurking, not a leaf out of place. Just the natural, gentle noise of the woods around them. It was peaceful.

A bird trilled faintly from somewhere high nearby. A squirrel chittered somewhere far-off in the distance. The whisper of a deep somewhere far off moving through a patch of leaves. Not a soul out of place.

Their breathing was quiet, a barely there thing, syncing without thought- inhale…. Exhale…. A quiet rhythm between them. Eddie’s heartbeat thumped slow and steady beneath his ear, a low metronome, while his own answered in kind, a soft beat just slightly faster than Eddie’s.

They drifted like that, suspended between awake and asleep. Every so often, one of them stirred faintly- Steve sighing as he shifted his arm higher across Eddie’s chest, Eddie pressing his nose to Steve’s hair with the ghost of a hum- but neither moved more than that. The air in the space between them stayed soft, easy, untouched by the weight of everything waiting for them outside of these woods.

It was a stolen moment of peace, fragile as glass, but real. The calm before the storm that was their lives. They let themselves sink into each other with no fear of being ripped apart.

And so, curled together in the moss and shade, they were able to fully relax. Not asleep. Not yet awake. But somewhere in between, but it didn’t matter, what did right now was keeping the other close.

---

The leaves above them swayed with the wind, sunlight filtering lower and warmer through the branches, gilding the edges of leaves with gold.

Eddie stirred first, breath catching in a yawn as he stretched both arms high above his head, joints cracking in protest. A long groan slipped out before he slumped back down, letting his lips brush the crown of Steve’s head in a soft kiss.

Steve stirred only a little, sighing quietly, his face hidden against Eddie’s chest. His arms tightened around Eddie like he was trying to fuse them together, refusing to let go. Eddie felt the faint drag of his breath through his shirt, the subtle nudge of his nose as he tucked himself in tighter.

Eddie’s smile curled soft and slow, a look of fondness he saved for when Steve wasn’t looking as it said too much. He let his hand drift back down, tracing gentle patterns over Steve’s spine with his fingertips. “As nice as this was.. Gotta get up soon, sweetheart.” He whispered, his voice heavy with sleep, but warm.

“Don’t wanna.” His muffled voice mumbled out, stubborn in a way that made Eddie huff out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah, I figured.” Eddie gave his side a playful little pinch, grinning when Steve twitched with a muted protest. “But c’mon. We’ve got a date to make, and we’re pretty far out. If we don’t leave soon, we’re gonna be late.” He checked his watch before letting his arm flop gently back to Steve’s back. “Don’t wanna make anyone think we’ve gone missing again.”

He groaned again, dragging the sound out like he could stall time with it. After a long pause, he lifted his head, hair mused and eyes still heavy with sleep. He leaned up slowly, like the movement cost him too much, and pressed the gentlest kiss against Eddie’s lips- just the barest brush, almost shy.

When he pulled back, he kept close, breath ghosting against Eddie’s lips. “I hate that you’re right.” He groaned out quietly, letting himself flop back down.

Eddie’s grin softened, though his eyes shined. He tipped forward to steal another quick but soft kiss, light as a spark. “You’ll survive, Harrington.” He murmured, thumb brushing Steve’s jaw. “Promise.”

He let out a quiet whine in protest as he pressed his palm flat against Eddie’s chest, his grin slowly stretching wide as he used the leverage to push himself up and off. Eddie groaned dramatically, batting weakly at Steve’s side before letting his head thump back into the moss with a theatrical huff.

“Jerk.”

“Mm. Just payback.” Steve stood, stretching long and slow, hands locking in front of him before rising high above his head. His shirt rode up with the motion, exposing a strip of scarred skin and a trail of hair disappearing down into his jeans.

Eddie propped himself up on his forearms, gaze roaming shamelessly, a smirk tugging at his lips. He let out a low whistle. “Apology accepted, sweetheart.” He winked and pushed himself upright, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck until it popped. A soft groan escaped him, more content than weary.

“This was probably the most comfortable place I’ve slept in a while…” Eddie glanced up at him with a sly grin. “Besides your bed, of course.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t bother hiding the smile that crept onto his face. He took a long moment to just breathe in, the air in the clearing clean and slightly damp, carrying faint notes of earth, moss, and the wildflowers scattered around them. “It really was.” He admitted softly.

For a moment they lingered, neither quite wanting to break the calm peace that seemed stitched into their little glade. But the sun was tilting lower, the air shifting cooler, and the awareness of time pressed in at the edges.

Steve finally dragged his gaze away from the canopy and bent to offer him a hand.

Eddie took it, letting himself be hauled up with an exaggerated groan. “Alright, sleepy head, let’s get a move on before the local wildlife files a complaint.” He brushed off his jeans, then caught Steve’s hand again, linking their fingers.

They finally set off again, slipping back under the arch of branches and into the denser woods. The shift from the open clearing into the closer knit thick trees was immediate- the air warmer, shadows deeper, the forest alive with faint rustles and the occasional call of a bird darting between branches.

Their steps fell in sync, a quiet rhythm, boots brushing through leaves and undergrowth. They didn’t talk much at first, simply soaking in the quiet. Every so often, Eddie would glance sideways with him with that soft look again, the corner of his mouth quirking at the easy peace he found written across his face, the way his shoulders had loosened.

Steve, for his part, would squeeze Eddie’s hand every so often, subtle but there, like a silent check-in. Throwing in own soft looks every time Eddie would look away.

They skirted wide around Hawkins proper until they had to get closer, keeping their path angled so the town stayed at a safe distance. Both of them keeping their senses alert- ears tuned for the crunch of something unnatural, noses occasionally lifting to scent the breeze better. But there was nothing nearby beyond the ordinary: damp bark, distant woodsmoke, the faint tang of wild animals moving far off, avoiding the two of them.

Eddie eventually broke the silence with a low hum. “Kinda feels like we’re cheating.” He whispered in the air between them, lips barely moving as he glanced around the woods. “Everybody else is running around, errands, work, whatever hard shit they’re doing in the lab or whatever. And here we are, taking naps in the woods.”

He snorted softly. “We deserve it. We’re allowed to… For lack of better words, breathe. Once in a while.” He tilted his head back briefly, watching the sunlight break into shards through the tree branches. “Besides, it’s not like Hawkins is gonna crumble if we aren’t there for a little longer.”

Eddie gave a theatrical gasp. “Careful, Harrington. Sound too reasonable and I’ll start suspecting you’d rather be a hermit.”

“Shut up.” He bumped their shoulders together as they walked, a grin reluctantly tugging at his lips.

They wandered like that, hand in hand, the woods stretching out around them in endless greens and golds. Their path wasn’t hurried: it bent around fallen longs, and over roots, wound through thickets where the undergrowth tried to tug at their jeans. It was easy to forget for a while, the weight of everything they’d still have to go through just to get back to their lives.

Eddie tipped his head back with a content sigh. “Y’know, I don’t think I ever let myself really picture this. Just…” He gestured vaguely with their linked hands, at the woods, their path. “Peace. No bats, no assholes with scalpels or needles. Just you, me, and some quality squirrel ambience.”

He smiled softly, the warmth of it reaching his eyes. “I don’t think I really did either. Not until we were sitting on the couch across from Wayne. But.. I guess we’ll just have to keep picturing it, make sure we never forget it. Make it stay around, real.”

That made Eddie grin wide enough it crinkled the corner of his eyes. He leaned closer, brushing his shoulder against Steve’s again, voice softer now. “Yeah. Think we can manage that, sweetheart.”

They continued on the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, shoulders and hips bumping playfully as they went. But their light mood couldn’t last forever, it shifted the closer they got to Hawkins.

It was subtle at first- the way their steps grew quieter, their gaze sharper, how they kept their heads tilted toward every sound in the underbrush. The closer they got to town, the tenser they grew, inch by inch as they kept their distance from the scattered groups of soldiers.

They kept out of sight deep into the woods until the edge of town came just into reach, tension threading heavily through the bond. They kept low, creeping forward, keeping to the cover of trees and thick undergrowth.

The air smelled of damp leaves, the faint breeze carrying something warm and familiar under smoke and gun oil.

They continued creeping forward, listening carefully. No soldiers boots crushing twigs, no guttural sounds of Demogorgons in the distance, no far off smells either. Instead, the noise was different- soft chatter, laughter spilling in bursts, quiet voices laced with the comfort of familiarity.

Five voices, five heartbeats. Steady and so very close. Familiar voices carried like a breath of fresh air.

‘Best not to keep them waiting any longer.’ Eddie whispered through the bond, his voice brushing warmly against Steve’s mind.

The renovated Byers house glowed against the dimming sun, warm lamplight soft against the windows, the air heavy with the scent of dinner: roasted chicken, buttery potatoes, being drowned out by the overwhelming scent of something sweet. It was so achingly familiar it tugged at his chest, it was all the scents of home that he’d been missing for years.

Hand in hand, they skirted the edge of the house, the bond thrumming with nervous energy with every step. They’d been told not to knock, just come in, but even knowing that, Steve hesitated for a beat. His thumb rubbed over the back of Eddie’s hand before he turned the knob. The door pushed open with a quiet click.

They slipped inside silently, the door closing behind them, the sounds of the house shifting immediately- the hush conversations breaking, heartbeats stuttering quick with recognition. Five sets of eyes turned their way.

“Steve!.. Eddie!”

Will was on his feet first, unfolding from the couch besides Eleven in a rush. He hugged Steve tightly, then Eddie just as quickly, his smile splitting wide. “You came.”

Steve’s chest loosened at the boy’s excitement. “Of course we did, kid.”

Will rocked back on his heels, glancing toward his mom in the kitchen, then back at them. “Mom got worried you weren’t gonna come, but I told her you promised. And you always keep your promises!”

Eddie’s lips tugged into a smile, soft. Steve continued, his voice quieter now. “Wouldn’t miss Joyce’s cooking even for the end of the world.” He ruffled Will’s hair lightly before his gaze shifted, catching on Eleven who’d risen from the couch more slowly.

She stood a few steps away, still as a shadow, eyes scanning them with an intensity Steve remembered all too well. She didn’t move right away, not until he offered her a gentle smile. “Hey, kiddo. You alright?”

She gave a single nod before stepping closer. Her voice was soft, careful. Like she still had to sound out each letter. “I am alright… You are.. Alright?”

Eddie’s answering smile curved faint and real, his hand squeezing Steve’s lightly in reassurance as he butt in. “Yeah, supergirl. We’re good.”

“Just hanging out in the woods today.” He added lightly, tilting his head to look around her.

From the kitchen, Joyce’s voice cut in, warm but thick with relief. “You boys gave me a scare.” She came forward, wiping her hands on a dish towel, Hopper shadowing her with his usual gruff, quiet presence.

Joyce’s arms wrapped around them both, tightly. When she pulled back, Hopper gave them both a firm clap on the shoulder, he smelt worried.

“I’m glad you boys are here.” Joyce admitted. “Jim called Wayne earlier to double check with you, he said you two were spending the day out before coming over.”

“Just wanted to see if you needed a ride.” Hopper admitted, looking them both over as if expecting injuries to suddenly appear.

“We were a little worried. But you’re here now.” Joyce’s voice was fierce in the way only a mother’s could be. “That’s what matters.”

He let out a long soft breath, something inside him loosening at the certainty in her tone. His eyes flicked toward the last steady heartbeat in the room. Jonathan was half curled on the loveseat, quiet but watchful as always. He gave them a short nod of acknowledgement.

The house smelt heavily of food now and the table was half set, plates stacked haphazardly with silverware scattered over it.

With a smile to Joyce as she headed back into the kitchen, Hopper lingering for a moment before trailing behind her, though he kept throwing the occasional glance their way, they moved toward the table. They worked around each other, hands brushing now and again as they set the table for seven, rearranging chairs and plates.

“Oh no, boys, you don’t have to-” Joyce began, reappearing with a serving bowl.

“It’s alright, Miss Byers.” Eddie cut in gently, already slipping a fork and knife beside each plate, lining them up with surprising precision. “Least we can do, yeah? You feed us, we set the table. Fair trade.”

Joyce gave him a soft tired smile, the one that said she wasn’t going to argue but that her heart was too full to stop herself from wanting to. “Alright, but please.. Call me Joyce.” She murmured, heading back into the kitchen.

Steve straightened a plate, fingers brushing the worn wood of the table. -Feels… Normal, nice even.-

Eddie’s reply came with an amused little hum. ‘Don’t jinx it, Harrington. You know what happens every time you say those words.’

His lips curved faintly as he shot Eddie a sidelong look, but didn’t push it.

It was then Jonathan moved, padding quietly across the house. He walked into the kitchen for a second before coming out with a stack of cups. “Here,” he said, voice low, quiet as always. “I can.. Help.”

He set the cups down carefully, lining them up besides the plates. When he looked up, it was with an almost shy smile. “I’m glad you guys decided to come.” He admitted, dropping into almost a whisper, like he was afraid to scare them off. “We haven’t seen you since the big reveal and.. We’ve all missed you both.”

Eddie caught Steve’s eye across the table, grin subtle, crooked, unnoticeable to those around them. He gave his own in turn, the bond humming warm between them -I told you. They wanted us Both here.- He turned to Jonathan, “We’re glad we did too.” His tone was honest, kind, far more open than he intended.

Jonathan gave a short nod, the tips of his ears coloring as he busied himself with the cups again.

Behind them, the kitchen clattered with Joyce’s movements, Hopper’s low murmur, the faint laugh of Will as something Eleven said. The house felt alive. Warm. Everyone acting like this was the most normal thing in the world. Like he and Eddie came over once a week for family dinners for years.

When Hopper brought over a large bowl of salad, setting it on the table, the three of them moved into the kitchen. They’d all but showed Joyce and Hopper out with gentle insistence.

“Sit down, relax.” He was already reaching for a knife to break down the chicken.

“Yeah,” Eddie added with a grin, grabbing a plate of rolls in one hand, a gravy boat in the other. “You two’ve done enough as it is. Let us play house for once.”

Joyce swatted lightly at Eddie, but gave in, exchanging a glance with Hopper before letting herself be steered toward the table. “Alright, alright… Thank you boys.”

Steve got the chicken and potatoes plated. Eddie stacked his arms with the roasted vegetables around the rolls, ladling Hopper’s homemade gravy into the boat. Jonathan came over quietly behind them, gathering up the napkins and pitchers of drinks.

Will and Eleven practically skipped to the table, laughing over some private joke, sliding into their seats with an eagerness that tugged a smile out of Steve.

It was cramped once everyone settled, elbows bumping, plates sliding, chairs squeaking across the worn floor. Hopper took one end, Jonathan the other. Joyce sat beside Hopper on his right, Eleven and Will beside her, shoulder to shoulder. One the opposite of them, he ended up next to Eddie, who lounged easily, knee brushing his under the table. “Should’a gotten the extender out.” Hopper muttered quietly.

The food was passed in a flurry- chicken platter scraping against the table, the gravy boat making careful rounds, rolls being tossed before they cooled. Someone’s fork clinked against their plate. Will leaned halfway across the table for green beans and almost knocked over his water, but Eleven steadied it with a quick hand.

“Careful, Will.” Joyce chided gently, though she was smiling.

“Sorry.” He muttered, sheepish, before Eddie slid the bowl closer to him with a wink.

Steve caught Joyce’s eye as she reached for the salad, her smile soft and a little wistful, it made his chest ache.

“Potatoes?” Hopper’s gravelly voice broke the moment as he offered the bowl to him.

“Thanks.” He took it, scooping some onto his plate before passing it along to Eddie.

For a while the only noise was the clatter of forks, the scrape of serving spoons, the hum of people asking for this or that- “Pass the salt, please.” “Hand me another roll?” “Did anyone get butter?”- the kind of easy, overlapping chorus that came with a family dinner.

Eddie leaned close, brushing his shoulder against Steve’s as he bit into a roll, his third. ‘Feels domestic as hell. Can’t believe they actually wanted me here too.’ He brushed gently through the bond, his grin crooked around the edges. ‘..I like it… Oh god, I’ve been domesticated!’

He resisted rolling his eyes, taking another bite of chicken to fight off the smile tugging at his lips. -Of course they’d want you here. Almost every call Robin’s been complaining to you about how often the kids would talk about you, the same stories or even random little details, and Wayne being brought in didn’t help.. I remember him telling a story about.. Well it’s not important… Apparently they’ve been gossiping about us since the get together.-

He leaned over just slightly, letting his shoulder press into Eddie. -And please.. You’ve been domesticated this whole time. You’ve only just noticed.-

Across the table, Will was asking Jonathan about the new batch of photos he was developing, voice bubbling with excitement. Eleven was nodding along, more focused on sneaking extra butter onto her roll. Joyce caught her, but only sighed with exasperated fondness.

“You know, I never thought I’d see the day the table was full again.” Joyce cut in suddenly, her voice soft, thoughtful as she glanced around. “We’ve missed having you over Steve, and Eddie you just complete it. It feels.. Right.”

Hopper gave a grunt in agreement, shoveling in a forkful of chicken to hide behind before he mumbled out as Joyce’s look. “A little noisy, maybe, but.. Yeah. Right. Never thought I’d be happy to share a table with you, Munson.”

Eddie snorted, nudging Steve under the table. “I’ll drink to that.” He said, raising his glass of water in mock toast. “To noisy dinner and Joyce’s home cooking, of which Steve did not do enough justice.”

Will giggled, raising his glass too, and Eleven followed, solemn but sincere. Even Jonathan lifted his cup, smile curling out lazily.

Steve clinked his glass lightly against Eddie’s, warmth blooming in his chest. “To noisy dinner and Joyce’s amazing cooking. Of which I totally undersold on purpose.” The table echoed with quiet clicks and soft laughter.

The rest of dinner passed in light conversations and an all-around jovial mood.

By the time the last fork scraped over its plate and the last roll disappeared, he and Eddie were already pushing their chairs back, standing up almost in unison.

“You two really don’t have to-” Joyce started, half-rising from her seat, but he cut her off with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard that already. Don’t worry Joyce, we’ve got it.”

Eddie gave an exaggerated bow, stacking plates in both hands like a waister. “Besides, we’re naturals at cleanup. It’s our best quality, right Harrington?”

“Far from it, Munson.” He muttered with a quiet laugh, collecting glasses as they made their way into the kitchen.

The sink filled with warm, soapy water while the hum of voices carried from the living room. Jonathan wandered in not long after and joined them, quiet as ever, drying dishes as Steve handed them over.. Every so often, he’d glance at the both of them, then duck his head back down with the faintest ghost of a smile. It was companionable, easy.

By the time the counters gleamed and the last dish was put away, the smell of freshly brewed coffee was already drifting from the pot Joyce had set up. She moved about the kitchen like it was second nature, the soft clink of mugs and the hiss of steam filling the air. She’d shooed them out the second they were finished, telling them to go relax now.

Hopper was looming at her side, silent but steady, his hands oddly precise as he ladled something into two separate mugs with practiced care.

As soon as the container opened Steve caught a whiff of what was inside, his stomach giving a little flip. -..Is that?..- He sat up straighter in the loveseat they’d taken over, Eddie’s arm tightening around his waist.

‘Blood..’ Eddie half finished, thoughts a mixture of shock and disbelief. ‘Hot. Fresh even. And Harrington, unless my nose is broken.. It’s human.’

He swallowed thickly, daring a glance at Hopper, who was blowing across the surface of his own coffee like nothing was out of the ordinary.

-They really..- He started, a low hum of unease twining with the sharp pulse of something almost like gratitude. -They want us here, Eds.-

Eddie’s lips twitched, like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite. ‘Never thought I’d say this, sweetheart.. But I think the Chief of Police just became my new favorite bartender.’

When Joyce and Hopper carried everything back over, it was a strange sort of normal. Hopper set the steaming mugs down in front of Steve and Eddie without ceremony, his expression gruff, almost dismissive. Like it was no big deal.

-They never.. Carried blood for me before. Only Wayne and Owens.- He pushed through gently, almost in awe, like he couldn’t believe someone would want to do this for them.

Joyce followed with her coffee and a tray balanced carefully in her other hand- hot chocolate crowned with whipped cream for Eleven and Will. An extra cup of coffee, for Jonathan.

But Eleven had something else waiting. She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, something clattering around, the click of the oven turning off, and returned proudly with a plate stacked high with cookies, their scent immediately filling the room with a sweet overwhelming aroma of melting chocolate.

“Extra chocolate.” She announced happily, setting the platter down on the coffee table. Her cheeks flushed pink as she added, “Will and I made them using the recipe Steve taught us.”

Will ducked his head, fingers tugging nervously at his sleeve before he mumbled, “I only helped a little.”

Eddie leaned forward, eyes bright, snagging a cookie while it was still warm. “Kid, these look amazing.” He bit into it, chocolate smearing the corner of his mouth. “Mm, best bakers in all of Hawkins right here. Stevie, you gotta try one.”

Eleven’s shy smile made his chest ache with something warm. He reached over for one himself, balancing the mug of hot blood on his knee. He took a bite letting out a quiet groan in appreciation. “You weren’t kidding. Guys, these are great!” He quickly finished one before grabbing another, leaning back into Eddie’s arm.

He looked between the cookie and the mug for a second, the bond twinging with curiosity. ‘Sweetheart?’ He didn’t answer. Instead, he dunked the cookie tentatively in the blood before taking a bite. Groaning louder at the taste before immediately doing it again. Eddie watched him with a raised brow, before copying him with an appreciative groan.

And for a while, the conversation was light- Joyce asking Will about his latest painting, Jonathan making a dry comment that had Eddie snickering, Eleven frowning with focus as she tried to add more whipped cream to her hot chocolate. Hopper watching them all with a smile.

But here and there, the weight seeped back in.

Hopper’s voice cutting low when he mentioned the patrol routes on the outskirts of town this morning. Joyce looking apologetic at them when she asked if they’d felt safe coming over. Jonathan’s quiet admission that he was worried about how much strain the Lab would put on El now that Owens was pushing for more.

Steve held Eddie’s free hand in his lap, their fingers clenched tight. But through the bond, pulses of reassurance, of warmth, of something heavy that neither of them wanted yet to name passed back and forth.

Eventually, Hopper got up to gather the empty cookie plate and all the drained mugs, moving into the kitchen with a new heaviness in his step. The quiet that followed left a pit forming in Steve’s stomach, shoulders winding tighter and tighter the longer Hopper dragged on. It felt like he was dragging his feet, putting off something inevitable.

When he finally returned, he sat quietly beside Joyce, sinking heavily into the loveseat. He leaned forward, hands clasping together, his expression soft but serious. “Listen…” His voice was gruff, but quieter than usual.

“Already told Wayne we were gonna offer but.. We rented a movie, stocked up on popcorn and snacks. So.. Either we can watch it and I drive you wherever you’d like afterward, or..” He paused, glancing between them. “We sorted out one of the rooms. And if you’re comfortable.. We’d like you two to stay.”

His brows pinched together as he turned to look at Eddie. Eddie blinked, his mouth parting as if caught off guard, his gaze flicking to Steve. -What do you think?.. Beds pretty comfy.-

‘I don’t know.. I meant.. We are pretty far from patrols and well.. I think we’d be alright.’ Eddie closed his mouth, eyes narrowing in concern. ‘What’re you thinking?’

His head tilted slightly, listening to the heartbeats around them, taking a subtle breath in. -They smell nervous. Will’s anxious, and El’s.. Scared?.. I think.. I don’t think they’re expecting us to want to.-

‘Do you.. Want to?’

-Do you?-

A faint vibration pulsed through the bond, Eddie’s silent hum carrying hesitation, but also longing. ‘I.. I wouldn’t be against it. Wayne’s working tonight, so his place’ll be too quiet. Doc’s in the bunker, but…’

-It’s not the same. Multiple heartbeats all being close together is…-

‘Yeah.’ Eddie already knew what he was thinking, of course he did. ‘Yeah, it is.’

He let out a quiet hum, turning back to Hopper who was watching them with raised eyebrows. The room’s hair felt heavy with expectation- five sets of eyes, five heartbeats waiting. He let a small, almost shy smile touch his lips. “Yeah, uh.. We’re cool with staying.”

It was instantaneous, five heartbeats calmed at once. Shoulders eased, held breaths puffed out, rippled of relief. Joyce’s hand found Hopper’s arm, Jonathan nodded, Will broke into a grin, and even Eleven’s expression softened, a bright smile stretching her lips.

“Good.” Joyce said gently, her voice threaded with warmth. She rose from her chair, already moving toward the hall closet. “Then we’ll need blankets- can’t have a movie night without them.”

Will piped up eagerly. “El and I picked the movie. Together.” He grinned at her, she nodded once.

“It is called. The Breakfast Club.” Her voice was quiet but certain, almost proud.

Eddie cocked his head. “Mm. Yeah no, don’t think I ever got to see it. What’s it, like, some kinda cooking movie?”

Jonathan laughed softly, shaking his head. “No. It’s about detention, something I’m sure you’ve had plenty of experience with.” He smiled warmly, teasing. “It’s a High school movie, but it’s pretty good.”

“Don’t remember ever seeing it.” Steve admitted, which earned him a wide-eyed look from both kids.

“..It.. Is good.” Eleven said with quiet certainty, as if it was fact.

Eddie smirked, letting the edge of a fang peek out. “Guess we’re about to get a cultural education, huh, Harrington?” Steve rolled his eyes, but he was smiling again.

Soon enough, Jonathan was crouched in front of the TV with the tape, while Joyce returned with an armful of blankets, tossing them out like they’d done this a thousand times. Hopper carried in bowls of popcorn, Will added M&M’s straight into one of them- “trust me, it’s better this way”- and before long the living room was dimmed to the soft glow of the TV.

He and Eddie sank into the loveseat with a thick plaid blanket thrown over both their shoulders. Eddie leaning into him with an exaggerated deep sigh, curls brushing his jaw, and he- like it was second nature- looped an arm around Eddie, his fingers drifting absently into curls as the opening credits rolled.

The coffee table was filled with snacks- pretzels, candy, popcorn, soda cans that hissed as they were opened- and soon the room filled with quiet laughter, commentary from Will, the occasional soft giggle from Eleven. Joyce leaned into Hopper’s side, Jonathan smiled faintly at his siblings’ energy, and Steve found himself sinking into the warmth of it all, Eddie’s weight solid against him, his curls soft beneath his hand.

In the middle of the movie Eddie’s voice carried through the bond, a low hum, almost overshadowed by the noise of the movie. ‘Feels… Safe. Weird word for us, I know. But it does.’

His thumb brushed over the back of Eddie’s hand under their blanket. -Yeah. Feels like we belong.-

The movie played on, flickering across their faces, filling the living room with that soft orange VHS glow and the crunch of popcorn every now and then. He couldn’t honestly say he followed every line of the story- half the time, his focus kept drifting sideways.

Eddie was curled against him, blanket pulled high over the both of them, his head nestled against Steve’s neck. Every time his fingers combed lazily through those curls, Eddie let out a low thrumming sound.

At first, he thought it was just his imagination- the faint rumble beneath his palm where it rested over Eddie’s chest. But no. It was real. Eddie Munson.. Was purring.

No loudly. Not enough for any human to notice. But he could hear it as clear as day. A little private sound, meant only for him, and he wasn't sure Eddie was even consciously doing it. And it was through the bond too, it vibrated warmly like sunshine in his veins.

-You’re purring.- His thought was amused, soft, an affectionate curl at the edges.

‘Mm not..’ There was a long pause. Then Eddie’s hum in response was lazy, unashamed, sleepy. ‘Blame you, sweetheart. Not mm fault you got magic fingers.’

Steve chucked under his breath, dragging his nails gently across Eddie’s scalp just to hear the rumble deepen. Eddie’s lips quirked, eyes closed, completely at ease. His whole body radiated contentment, so much that it bled through the bond like molten honey.

And God, he thought, he could get used to it. -He’s beautiful.-

The rest of the room seemed to fade into the background- Joyce resting against Hopper’s side, Jonathan with his arms folded, only half paying attention, Will leaning into Eleven as they whispered to each other now and then. For once, there was no tension buzzing under his skin, no shadows creeping in from the edges. Just warmth. Just peace. -I’ve missed this.-

By the time the credits rolled, the glow of the TV was the only light in the room, the bowls of popcorn and candy had been picked over, soda cans stacked empty. Everyone stretched and yawned, the comfortable lull of a shared night settling over them.

Even Eddie sat up, groaning as he let his arms stretch above his head.

But Eleven was the first to get up, slipping quietly to her feet. Will followed, stretching his arms over his head with a soft groan. “‘Night.” He mumbled around a yawn, flashing a grin at Steve and Eddie before letting El tug on his sleeve to lead him down the hall.

Eleven glanced back once, her smile tired but genuine. “Goodnight. I will see you both tomorrow.”

They padded off, voices low and giggly as they whispered to each other, the sound carrying faintly until it was being swallowed up by the hallway.

Though Will stopped just before turning the corner, circling back to throw his arms around Steve in a sudden hug. It startled him for half a second before he wrapped his arms around Will. “Glad you’re here.” Will mumbled into his shoulder, voice muffled but earnest. Then he gave Eddie a lopsided grin before hurrying after Eleven.

Jonathan rose next, lingering for a moment beside the couch. His hand came down on Steve’s shoulder, then Eddie’s arm, firm but a little hesitant. “Good night.” His voice came soft, giving them both a shy smile. “Glad you guys stayed.”

Steve caught the sincerity there and nodded. Eddie muttered a soft, “Night man,” under his breath, almost like he didn’t know what else to say. Jonathan gave them both one last look before slipping quietly down the hall after his siblings, just to make sure they didn’t stay up too late.

That left Joyce and Hopper. They lingered, not rushing to move, the weight of their gazes resting on them still sitting side by side on the loveseat. Joyce’s smile was gentle, tired in a way only mothers knew, but warm all the same. Hopper’s arms crossed over his chest, though his eyes weren’t stern- they were warm, almost protective.

“We’re glad you’re here tonight.” Joyce finally said, her voice carrying the same fierce softness as before. “We’ve all missed you both.”

He swallowed, something in his chest loosening at her words. He nodded once, quietly, his hand rubbing slow circles against Eddie’s hip as he’d yet to move his arm from his waist. “We’ve missed you guys too.” His voice broke out rough, but honest. “All of you. It’s been hard, some days more than others. And sometimes.. It’s not that we don’t want to be here, it’s just that.. It’s calmer to just be alone sometimes. But we’ve missed you guys.”

Hopper nodded once. “No one wants to rush you, healing takes time. But you’ve been missed.” His gaze shifted, settling firmly on Eddie. “I’m glad you’re alright, and I don’t think I apologized that you got dragged into that mess.” His voice was low, rough, but no less sincere for it. “And I’m glad you’re back too.”

The words hit Eddie like a punch he hadn’t braced for. His throat tightened, the bond sparking sharp and unsteady as he ducked his head, curls falling forward to shield his face. ‘Did he… Did he actually mean that?’

He pressed his palm against Eddie’s back, steadying him. -Yeah. He meant it, Eds.. They both meant it.-

Joyce leaned forward slightly, her eyes softening even more as they caught Eddie’s. “We’re glad you’re both back." She said more firmly. Then, with a small smile just for him, she added, “Even if you weren’t part of the group for long, you are now. You belong here Eddie, with us. You need anything, and while Steve already knows this, I cannot stress it enough. You need anything you just ask, any of us.”

For a second, Eddie couldn’t answer. His chest ached, his eyes burned, and it was only Steve’s hand and the bond warm between them that kept him from unraveling right there in the living room. He nodded once, quick and sharp, unable to get the words past the lump in his throat.

Steve cleared his own throat softly, giving Eddie’s wrist a gentle squeeze as he stepped in for them both. “Thanks… Means a lot.” He cleared his throat again, his voice felt thick.

Joyce’s smile warmed, Hopper gave a short nod, and the air between them settled into something quieter, heavier, but good. The kind that left the both of them sinking deeper into the loveseat once the adults finally stood, wishing them a goodnight before heading toward their own room on the opposite side of the house.

The house around them quieted, the glow of the paused credits the only light left in the room, the quiet hum of heartbeats spread out around them, all in different tempos. They sat together in silence, and for the first time in a long time, neither of them felt like outsiders on the edge of someone else’s life.

They were in it. Wanted. Missed. Belonging.

They sat there for a long while, listening to the lingering hum of heartbeats retreating into sleep, until at least, he gave a little nudge through the bond. -C’mon. Let’s not leave it a mess for Joyce in the morning.-

So they rose together. He grabbed the discarded blankets and folded them neatly, draping them over the backs of couches. Eddie gathered the other scatter of smaller throws Joyce had tossed around earlier, and stacked them into a tidy pile. Between the two of them, they made the living room look like no one had ever turned it into a nest of snacks and warmth over an hour ago.

Next came the trash- crumpled napkins, candy wrappers, empty cans. Eddie collected them with a flourish, tossing each wrapper into the trash bag like he was imitating Steve’s ‘basketball moves’ as he called them. Steve rolled his eyes but smiled all the same, scooping up stray popcorn kernels and carrying the empty bowls back into the kitchen. Together, they washed and dried the dishes in an easy silence, their shoulders brushing now and then, the faint rush of water the only sound.

When the sink was cleared and the last bowl clattered softly into the drying rack, Steve padded back to the VCR. He pressed rewind, listening to the faint mechanical whir as the tape spun back to the beginning. Eddie leaned on the wall with his arms crossed, watching with amusement like Steve was committing some sacred ritual.

Once the tape clicked, he popped it free, slid it carefully into its sleeve, and set it on the coffee table. The TV went dart with a soft click, plunging the living room into a dark hush.

-Alright.- He murmured between them, offering his hand. Eddie took it immediately, their fingers lacing without thought, and he led him down the hall.

He hummed softly, low and thoughtful, carrying the faint echo of a memory. -They redid the house after the quakes. After… Y’know. Vecna tore Hawkins apart. Joyce wanted to be closer to everyone than Hopper’s cabin after they moved back, so.. They rebuilt it completely. Took a while, but they added more space. Extra rooms. Enough for all of them to fit and then some.. The hush money covered it.-

Eddie tilted his head curiously, eyes scanning the widened hallways. ‘Gotta be honest with you sweetheart. I’d only ever saw it once or twice, from the outside. But it definitely feels bigger.’

He stooped suddenly, brows furrowing like he’d caught himself mid-thought. His hand tightened minutely in Eddie’s. Then he nodded, continuing down the hall at a slower pace. -After… Everything.. Hopper and Joyce, they.. Watched me fall apart more times than I’d like to admit. But they promised.. Said once it was all done, whichever room I wanted… It’d be mine. For as long as I want.. Forever.-

That landed heavy between them, not with sadness but with a kind of gravity Eddie didn’t need words for. His voice carried more weight than his casual tone suggested. This house wasn’t just new wood and extra rooms- it was proof they weren’t disposable. That someone wanted him to have a place. Always.

They reached the guest room at the end of the hall, the door left just slightly ajar. Inside, the space was quiet, waiting, touched with a kind of intentional simplicity. It was neat, uncluttered of personal touches, but not sterile- a simple comfort, the sort of room that whispered meant to be used when you need it most.

He froze in the doorway. Breath stuck in his chest, eyes widening as the room fully sank in. The walls- painted in the same soft shade of his own bedroom. The bedding- an exact match. It wasn’t just a guest room. It was his. Another home, pieced together for him, waiting on someone they thought would never return.

And then his gaze landed on the nightstand.

A small, framed photo.

His chest pulled tight, heart stumbling as he recognized it instantly. Remembered it vividly.

Steve stood at the kitchen counter, leaning forward mid-explanation, one hand guesting as if he’d been trying to stress something. Eleven was closer to the camera but directly beside him, her eyes wide, fixed on him with pure fascination, her entire body tilting toward him like she was soaking up every word. On his other side, Will leaned close too, caught mid-motion as he mimicked Steve’s hands in peeling a potato, a grin pulling at his lips.

He remembers it perfectly- how the two of them had spent weeks asking him to teach them to cook, wearing him down until he gave in. He’d picked something simple but something the Party always loved from him: meatloaf with mashed potatoes and gravy.

Hopper’s cabin had been cramped, the three of them squeezed in tight at the counter, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It had been warm. Easy. Like a family.

He let out a shaky breath, body slumping as he leaned heavily into Eddie’s side, the bond aching the ache in his chest in a pulse. His throat felt too tight to speak aloud, so the words slipped through them instead, quiet, fragile. -I… Had no idea Jonathan took that.-

A soft, broken sound slipped from him before he could stop it. His hand flew up to cover his mouth, as if muffling it would undo the way his chest ached. -They’d done all of this.. For me.- The thought pushed through the bond before he could tuck it away for himself. Eddie’s arm moving to wrap around his shoulder, pulling him close. He leaned into it- until his gaze landed on the bed.

Two neat stacks of folded clothes waited for them, set carefully at the foot of the bed like someone had known exactly what they would need.

He froze, then straightened, stepping out from under Eddie’s arm before he could stop himself.

The first pile: an old police academy sweatshirt, dark navy, faded with time but clearly well-loved, paired with black sweatpants that looked soft from years of wear. The word ‘Academy’ going down one leg. The second pile: a Hawkins High sweatshirt he immediately recognized as his own, hood stretched loose from yanking it too many times, folded with dark blue sweats beneath it.

His throat worked around a lump as he moved toward the first stack. His fingers brushing across the sweatshirts lettering, tracing the cracked edges like they might fade away. The bond pulsed, soft and sheepish. -This one’s… Stupid comfortable.- The words slipped out, more confession than thought.

Eddie raised a brow, smirk dancing across his lips as he leaned against the dresser. ‘How would you know?’

He gave a shrug, small, almost guilty, his eyes fixed stubbornly on the fabric in his hands. -I uh.. Well.. First time I crashed at the cabin, I didn’t have anything with me.. So.. Hop handed me these. Didn’t think he’d let me keep ‘em, but..- He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassment coloring the edges of his thoughts. -Turns out they’re actually really nice and..- Another shrug, tighter this time.

Delight sparked down the bond, Eddie’s grin blooming wide as he shook his head. ‘You, King Steve, humbled by the Chief of Police’s hand-me-downs?’

He shot him a glare over his shoulder, but it lacked all heat, more worn affection than threat. “Shut up, Munson. You know I hate being called that.” He muttered out loud, barely audible, already unfolding the sweatshirt.

‘Aww, Stevie,” Eddie’s thoughts softened with warmth, teasing but threaded with sincerity. ‘You know I don’t mean it like that. Just like given’ you shit.’

-Yeah, yeah.. I know.- He rolled his eyes but his hand paused in reaching for the sweatpants too, eyes flickering over to the other pile. His old Hawkins sweatshirt. He frowned faintly, before recognition clouded his eyes. -Wait.. This is.. Oh.. They kept it.-

He smiled as though the bond, a memory surfaced, showing accidentally as he thought it over, warm and blurry. Joyce’s quiet voice asking him to keep some spare clothes with her, “Just a few sets, just in case, you know?” She didn’t want him worrying about crashing on the couch without clothes again. Not after the big fuss he’d made where he tried to insist on driving home, half asleep.

His lips twitched, a bit surprised, though mostly fond. -Guess she really meant it.- He ran his fingers over it slowly as he thought about her look of horror when he tried to reach for his keys, not wanting to take up more space. How Hopper insisted he was very much wanted there.

Eddie’s grin softened into something gentler. He plucked up the Hawkins sweatshirt, pulling off his own shirt to tug it over his head. “Think your clothes suit me better anyway.” He whispered, muffled through the fabric.

“Mm.” Steve hummed, already slipping off his own clothes and into the police academy sweats. “I think you look better without any.” He playfully bumped his hip into Eddie’s as they got ready for bed.

They moved around each other naturally, brushing hands when they passed, his fingers grazing Eddie’s hip, Eddie’s hand skimming his arm. Every small contact buzzed through the bond, quiet reassurance neither of them needed but both of them constantly craved.

By the time they slipped under the covers, the house was silent except for the faint creak of old wood and the soft calm heartbeats of sleep. Steve lay on his side, curling in toward Eddie, their legs tangled together, foreheads brushing. Their hands found one another under the blanket, fingers slotting together slowly, like they had all night.

They gave occasional touches that they let linger- a thumb sweeping over knuckles, a palm pressed against a chest, the brush of lips against temple or jaw. Not urgent. Not demanding. Not even full of heat. Just the kind of steady, grounding contact that said, I’m here. You’re here. We’re safe.

---

“I’m um.. Not really sure to be honest.” Steve shrugged nervously.

He and Eddie sat cross-legged on the living room floor, backs pressed to the back of the couch. He had Eddie’s hand settled in his lap, both his own wrapped around it, playing with his fingers like he was trying to keep his hands busy, or maybe to keep from running.

“It might have come from the bat bites? Or.. I don’t really know. I definitely don’t think I had them before, or maybe.. Being in the Upside Down enough times triggered them? I don’t know. And I don’t.. Don’t really want to find out.” His shrug was tighter this time, shoulders hunching, like saying it out loud might make it more real than he was ready to deal with.

In front of them, sitting side by side with their backs to the wall, Eleven leaned forward, almost curled in on herself as she tried to lean in closer. Her wide eyes locked on Steve, drinking in every word. Beside her, Will sat up straight, legs criss-crossed as he leaned forward holding onto his ankles. He was curious, anxious, but his gaze was softer than Eleven’s, more tentative, like he was trying not to overwhelm Steve by staring too much.

Jonathan sat slightly off to the side, legs crossed, his elbows braced on his knees. He wasn’t leaning in so much as sitting steady, quiet, but his eyes flickered from Steve to Eddie and back again. Like he was trying to take in every word, every movement they gave him. His gaze occasionally flickered to Eleven and Will, just to check on them.

Further back, Joyce and Hopper had claimed the table. Their after breakfast coffees were still half-full, cooling in their hands, but neither of them had taken a sip in a while. Hopper’s elbows were planted on the wood, his brows knit deep in through, while Joyce leaned back, her face open but tight with worry, her hand pressed against the side of her mug as if to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

The weight of silence was thick until Eddie, bless him, tipped his head toward Steve and voice gentle but firm said, “You’re not some science project, sweetheart… Doesn’t really matter how it happened now does it? Just now matters that you can do it.”

That earned him a faint squeeze around his fingers, though Steve’s eyes were still on his lap, watching Eddie’s fingers as he wiggled them.

‘At least they’re not scared or.. Worried.’ Eddie murmured through the bond, his own thoughts wrapping around Steve’s like a warm blanket. ‘They didn’t expect it, sure. But none of us really did. But they’re not running away.. That’s good, right?’

His eyes briefly glanced up, meeting Will’s cautious, almost excited gaze. -Yeah.. Yeah, that’s good.- He gave a brief smile, just a press of his lips into an almost flat line before he softly said, “I can… Move things, blow them up… With my mind.”

Eleven’s breath caught audibly, the sound sharp enough to make Joyce flinch. He’d only said before that he had some new powers, he hadn’t yet said what. And for a beat, Eleven’s face twisted- fear, tight and raw, flashing over her the same way it had when they’d confirmed earlier that it was most definitely Martin Brenner, Papa, who held them captive. Like the thought of what else that man might have done crossed her mind.

But then, just as quickly, her fear shifted into something else. Her wide eyes lit with awe, the corners of her mouth twitching upward.

“You are… Like me.” She whispered. Her voice trembled, but there was something like wonder in it.

Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t nod, didn’t confirm it, because admitting it like that- like her- made his skin itch. But Eddie wiggled his fingers under his tight grip, sending warmth and reassurance quietly through the bond, and he finally huffed out a tiny, reluctant laugh.

“Somethin- Something like that.” He breathed out, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m like.. Like you. Except… Different. I can’t.. I don’t..” He gestured vaguely toward his face. “Don’t get the.. Nosebleeds or anything like you do.”

Eleven leaned closer still, her chin perched on her knees now as she brought them to her chest. “Show me?” She asked softly, not with the sharp demand of the lab, but soft, pleading, almost childlike.

He tensed. His hands stilling on Eddie’s. Through the bond, his panic edged sharp. -Eddie…-

Eddie tilted his head, his smile coming crooked but soft. “You don’t gotta if you don’t want to, sweetheart. But..” He looked toward Eleven, her face so open, expectant, like she was seeing someone who could finally share the weight of what she carried. “...Could be good. Show her she’s not alone.”

His throat worked around the sudden tightness, but he nodded, slowly. “..Okay.”

He lifted his hand from Eddie’s slowly, focusing on the table to his far left. A spoon rested near Hopper’s abandoned mug. He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing in concentration. For a beat, nothing happened. Then the spoon wobbled, jittering like it was caught in a breeze. His jaw tensed, a small sound catching in his throat, and then it lifted, slow but steady, hovering a few inches above the table.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

Eleven’s lips parted in awe. Will’s eyes shone, his grin small but bright. Jonathan’s brows went up, and even Joyce leaned forward, her mug forgotten. Hopper’s surprised grunt was low, but it carried approval.

Steve set the spoon back down with more gentleness than he’d thought himself capable of. He slumped back against the couch, his breath coming just a little quicker, hand darting back of Eddie’s like a lifeline.

“Like me.” Eleven whispered.

Eddie chuckled, leaning in to bump Steve’s temple with his own. “Told you, Stevie. You’re a damn miracle.”

He huffed softly, his breathing slowly calming. “Still.. Working on it. Only just started really practicing so..” He gave a weak shrug, cheeks tinted faintly at the attention.

Eddie’s lips curved with his grin, so soft it practically melted Steve’s nerves away. “Don’t let him undersell himself,” he started, loud enough for the whole room. He turned his hand over, letting his fingers wrap around Steve’s, thumb stroking lazy patterns over his knuckles. “Practiced for hours. Stubborn as hell. And-” he tipped his head toward Steve, pride thrumming through the bond so warm it was almost dizzying. “-I’ve seen him do it without even moving his hands.”

Steve looked at him mortified, eyes darting away from the group like maybe the floor would do him a favor and swallow him whole if he stared hard enough. “Eddie..” He muttered, like a warning, though it held no real bite.

But it was too late. Eleven’s eyes went impossibly wider, her jaw dropping slightly as she leaned forward far enough her hair tumbled over her cheeks. “No hands? To start? And.. No blood?” She whispered, awe threading through every syllable. “Just… Your mind?”

He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, resisting the urge to let his claws out as he mumbled, “It took some time but.. Yeah. Just my mind.” He avoided her gaze, but Eddie felt the flutter of pride filtering back through the bond, even as Steve tried to shrink back into himself.

Will let out a quiet, breathy laugh, his knees bouncing up and down where he still sat cross-legged. “That’s… That’s incredible, Steve! Like-” He stopped himself, voice dropping softer, like he didn’t want to freak Steve out. “..Like we said about Eleven.. You’re like a superhero.” His eyes shone when he said it, but he quickly ducked his head, fingers fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.

Joyce glanced toward Hopper, her brows pulling together like they were having a silent conversation. Then her face softened, even as worry lingered there, her hands curling protectively around her mug again. “That’s.. That’s really wonderful, Steve.” She said carefully, as though trying to find a line between encouragement and caution. “But you don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

Hopper nodded along, though his arms crossed over his chest in that familiar, fatherly way. “Joyce is right. It’s good. Really, amazing. But don’t go breaking yourself just to figure out what you can do.” His eyes flicked over to Eddie, a silent request- keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t overdo it.

Eddie nodded almost imperceptibly, already well ahead of him.

But Eleven couldn’t help herself- her hands twitched in her lap, her voice bubbling up again, barely held in check. “What else can you move? Big things? Only small things?.. Can you move a car?”

His eyes widened in horror at the thought, what could he move? But before he could answer, Jonathan cut in, his voice quiet and calm. “El,” he started gently, a hand reaching out to brush against her arm, getting her attention. “Let him breathe, okay? One question at a time.”

Eleven blinked, her shoulders slumping just slightly, chastened but still burning with questions behind her eyes. She gave a small nod, sitting back against the wall again, though her eyes never left Steve.

Will nudged her with his shoulder, his quiet smile returning. “It’s still amazing.” He murmured, as though sharing the excitement just between them.

Jonathan let his gaze linger on Steve for a moment before looking toward Eddie. Eddie caught his eye, tilting his chin upward in a subtle, wordless thank you. Jonathan answered with a faint nod, the corner of his mouth twitching like he understood.

Eddie leaned back against the couch, letting his curls brush against Steve’s shoulder, his voice low and fond filtering through the bond. ‘See, sweetheart? You didn’t push them away. Didn’t even scare ‘em. You knocked their freakin’ socks off.’

He blew out a long, quiet breath, finally letting his shoulders ease down from where they’d been bunched up tight to his ears. He still looked nervous, but when he glanced around, all he saw was awe, care, and a little too much excitement for comfort- but no fear.

And that… That was something.

---

He stood there panting softly, rolling his shoulders as if to ease an imperceptible ache. Eleven stood across from him, wiping a smear of blood from her nose, her eyes hardening in determination as she stared at him.

“Again.” She demanded softly, taking up her tight stance across from him.

The living room had been cleared out, couches pushed against the walls to make enough space for them. Hopper and Joyce stood shoulder to shoulder near the entry way, voices low, occasionally offering quiet encouragement but otherwise letting the two of them set the pace. Though they occasionally smelt like a spike of worry, Hopper especially when Eleven’s ear started bleeding.

Jonathan hovered closer to the wall with Will, both of them wide-eyed but grinning, caught somewhere between nerves and awe. Eddie leaned against the arm of the couch nearest Steve, arms folded, but his presence thrummed steady and warm between the bond- soft reassurances brushing against Steve’s nerves like gentle hands. ‘You’re fine, sweetheart.’ ‘You’re not gonna hurt her.’ ‘You can do this.’.

Steve let out a soft huff, shaking out his arms before nodding. “Alright.. Give it your best shot, kid.” He squared his shoulders, widening his stance as though bracing for impact.

Eleven narrowed her eyes, drawing in a breath before throwing out her arm. The invisible force hit him square in the chest and shoved him back, but he only moved a few inches across the floor, bare feet squeaking faintly. He let the movement carry him before he dug in, stopping his side. His lips quirked, a small, proud smile forming despite the sweat beading at his temple. “Good job.”

Eleven shook her head fiercely. “No.. It was meant to be more.” She wiped her nose again, frustration pinching her face. “It is your turn.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “That’s.. Alright, you can go again if you want.” He’d let her take almost every turn so far. Part of him wanted to keep it that way. If she hurt him, it didn’t matter- he’d survive, heal even. But him? Hurting her, even by accident, made his stomach knot.

“No.” She insisted, her gaze unwavering. She took a step forward, chin lifting in a mirror or stubbornness he’d seen in her a dozen times before. “It is your turn Steve.”

Through the bond, Eddie’s voice came quiet, ‘You’re not gonna break her, Stevie. She’s stronger than she looks. Might be human, but she needs this. Needs you to meet her there.’

He pressed his lips tightly together, breathing through the swell of nerves. Eleven was watching him like her whole world balanced on what he’d do next. He’d never been able to say no to his kids- not when they looked at him like that.

He nodded once. “Alright.” His hands flexed at his sides before curling into determined fists. “My turn.”

Eddie’s encouragement hummed softly, a steady thrum behind his ribs. ‘Atta boy.’

Steve exhaled and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling that odd shift inside him, the pull of something invisible threading through his chest and over into his arms, his fingertips. He lazily raised his hand, palm out, and focused on the figure across from him. Eleven squared her shoulders, planting her feet, ready.

The air between them seemed to thicken. A faint vibration, like static before a storm, prickled along their skin. Eleven’s hair listed at the edges as Steve’s focus sharpened. He didn’t shove, didn’t want to overwhelm her. Instead, he pictured it like nudging her gently with his shoulder, the same way he used to herd the kids out of danger before.

Eleven’s breath hitched as her sneakers scraped back a few inches across the floor. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t falter- her own hand shot up, and for a heartbeat the air seemed to twist, two currents colliding in the center of the room. The invisible pressure pressed against Steve’s chest, but he pushed back, careful, measured.

“Good.” Eleven whispered, her voice tight but full of awe. Her nose bled again, just a thin line this time, but her eyes were bright. “You are… Strong.”

His arms seemed to tremble as he eased the pressure back, letting it bleed out into nothing, lowering his hand slowly. His chest rose and fell in quiet measured breaths, but there was a small, startled smile tugging at his lips.

Joyce let out a shaky laugh, her hands pressing together in front of her mouth. “My God…” She whispered, in a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Will clapped once before catching himself, his grin breaking through anyway. “That was- that was amazing!”

Jonathan’s eyes flicked from Steve to Eleven and back again, like he was making sure neither of them had gone too far. “Okay, maybe that’s enough for right now.” He said gently, the peacemaker tone that drew Eddie’s eye. Eddie flipped his chin in another quiet thanks, his thumb reaching over to take Steve’s hand again.

Hopper uncrossed his arms, gaze locking on Steve. There was pride there, but it was layered with the kind of worry only someone who’d seen too much carried. “Alright,” he rumbled, voice gruff but soft at the edges. “That’s plenty for today.”

Steve sank down onto the couch arm beside Eddie, his shoulders shaking faintly with subtle adrenaline. Eddie shifted, leaning in so their arms brushed, the bond pulsing a calming warmth. ‘See? Didn’t break her. Didn’t break anything actually. Just showed them what you’re made of.’

He huffed, letting his head drop briefly against Eddie’s shoulder before lifting again. Eleven, still wiping her nose, was beaming at him. And Steve… Couldn’t quite keep the proud smile from creeping across his own face.

‘But..’ Edde began softly, his thumb brushing over the back of Steve’s hand. ‘Did you feel the weird energy when she pushed back? Or am I imagining things?’

He hummed low in his chest, a sound so quiet only Eddie could catch it. -Yeah. The… It was almost like static? Like when you touch a door after going across carpet. It was.. I don’t know, sharp? But not bad. Just- different. Maybe that’s normal between us?-

He gave a small shrug, and Eddie mirrored the motion, both of them shifting in tandem as if to cover the conversation passing silent between them.

Jonathan, back to sitting cross-legged on the floor, busied himself with adjusting his even present camera at his side, though Steve didn’t miss the way his gaze flickered briefly to them and then away, as if trying to be polite. Joyce, having moved to the kitchen, made a fuss over stacking coffee cups that didn’t actually need to be stacked. Hopper scratched at the bear he’d been growing out, staring pointedly at a spot on the wall away from them. Even Will ducked his head, pretending to be interested in a thread loose on his sleeve. Though Eleven was looking around confused.

They all knew. -They’re not being subtle aaaat all.- He thought with a faint smile.

Eddie’s lips quirked into a grin, his eyes gleaming with shared amusement. Steve huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he glanced back at the others. “Sorry.” He said aloud, voice sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “We didn’t mean to be rude.”

The air seemed to loosen at the acknowledgement. Joyce gave him a forgiving smile, Hopper mumbled something like don’t worry about it, and Will looked up again, curiosity sparkling across his face. Jonathan glanced back over but went back to messing with his camera. Eleven still looked confused.

He ran a hand through his hair, then looked over at Eleven. “We were just talking about.. When we pushed back against each other. The way it-” He hesitated, searching for the words. “When they.. Connected, I guess? It felt almost like a shock. Like a sort of static electricity running through me.”

Eleven tilted her head, considering him seriously. Her eyes shifted around as if lost in through, before she slowly nodded in agreement. “Yes,” her voice came quiet but certain. “Like… Lightning. But not painful.”

“Yeah,” he quietly agreed, meeting her eyes. “Not painful. Just.. Strange. Like it wasn’t just me or you. Something in between. Does that.. Has it happened before, with.. The other kids?”

She shook her head. A hush fell over the room at his words, heavy but not yet uncomfortable- more the silence of people who didn’t have any answers. Will looked thoughtful, his brows pulling together. Jonathan shifted, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what. Joyce’s hand brushed against Hopper’s as she came back to stand beside him, both of them quietly absorbing it.

No one really knew what to make of it. The moment lingered just long enough for Steve’s skin to prickle again before Eddie cleared his throat. “Guess we’ll uh… Put a pin in that mystery for now. Probably just another weird undead thing.” He said lightly, though the bond buried the real thought beneath it. ‘We’ll figure it out later. Together.’

He gave the smallest nod, the weight between them easing. Eleven still watched him with something like awe, but she sat back against one of the couches, seeming to accept the unspoken agreement. The static may have been strange but it wasn’t dangerous. And for now, for today at least, it was just something to circle back to when the world wasn’t already too full.

The group shifted again, conversation stumbling back to safer ground. Jonathan messing with his camera as he quietly asked Steve about the renovations he’d been told about at his house. Joyce rose to fuss with the blankets she hadn’t yet wanted put away. Hopper muttered to Eleven about the weather report he’d caught on the radio yesterday.

Eddie leaned closer, their shoulders pressing tight, his grin softening into something fond. Steve’s chest loosened, the lingering hum of static still settling underneath his skin giving way to a gentler thrum.

---

It was sometime after lunch when they’d found out exactly what it meant.

Steve and Eddie were lounging on the couch, leaning against one another, plates balanced on their laps. The sandwiches Joyce had made were simple but good, turkey and cheese stacked between fresh bread Jonathan had baked, the buttered edges crisp, exactly like Steve had taught him years ago. In front of them on the coffee table sat their mugs, steam still curling faintly up from the blood. They still weren’t over that- how casually Hopper had gotten it for them, no questions asked.

Jonathan sat on the other end of the couch, a quiet presence as always, working on his own sandwich with a seaming mug of coffee that smelled strong enough to knock a man over, so much like Wayne’s. Every now and then his eyes flicked to his younger siblings across the room. Eleven and Will were huddled together on the loveseat, plates in their laps, talking animatedly between bites, laughter bubbling up like they’d been waiting all day just to be near each other.

Joyce and Hopper had settled at the table, their lunch nearly finished as they spoke in low, but heavy tones. He didn’t bother to make out the words, didn’t want to be that person. But the cadence sounded like strategy, planning, something they’d both learned to keep close at hand after years of surviving Hawkins.

And then the phone rang.

The sound cut sharp through the warmth of the house. Everyone froze mid-motion. He glanced at Eddie, catching the flicker of unease in his eyes. Jonathan’s hand stilled halfway to his mug. Eleven’s head snapped toward the sound, Will doing the same.

Hopper sighed heavily, pushing himself up from the table with a scrape of chair legs. His footsteps thudded against the floor as he crossed the room, the weight of his steps dragging the room down with him. He answered with a gruff, “Hello?”

The silence that followed was brief but tense. Then Hopper’s voice, clipped, edged with frustration.

“Yeah they’re-.... What do you-.... No. No that’s not-... No, okay. We’ll be there… Yeah.. Yeah, sure… Mhm… I’ll let everyone know… No that’s fine, I’ll call it in… Mhm. Mhm, I’ll see what I can do… Okay… Alright, we’ll meet you there.”

When he hung up, he stayed facing the wall for a heartbeat longer than necessary, shoulders tight. Then he turned, expression heavy, eyes sharp with the weight of news no one wanted to hear. His gaze flicked first to Joyce, who had gone still in her chair, then over Jonathan, Eleven and Will. Finally, it settled past Eddie on Steve.

“That was Owens.” His voice was grim, clipped. Dragging in a slow breath before continuing, like the words themselves cost him something. “The gates, cracks- the cracks around town.. Reopened. And it’s.. Well.. Bad. Owens needs us all at the lab immediately. Especially you four.” He jerked his chin toward Steve, Eddie, Eleven, and Will.

The room seemed to shrink in around them. He felt Eddie tense beside him, the air thick with an unease that had nothing to do with their nature.

“Go get ready.. For anything.” Hopper went on, tone steady though his jaw clenched tight. “I’ll call everyone in and let them know what’s going on. But you two-” His finger cut toward Steve and Eddie, sharp as if an order. “-need to come with us as well. Owen’s sounded.. There’s something wrong. And he wants to make sure you’re both safe.”

Eddie sat up straighter, his arm slipping around Steve’s shoulder, the weight of his hand grounding even as it tightened. His voice came rough, edged with disbelief. “And you trust that, trust him? Because if I’m being honest.. We’re probably safer back… Where we live. Wayne too, if things are as bad as you’re making them sound.”

Hopper shook his head, frown deepening. “I don’t know what’s going on right now. But, he sounded certain that you needed to be there. Listen… I trust Owens, especially after everything he’s done, but-” He broke off, meeting both their eyes. “If things do go south, you two hightail it out of there. Get to wherever it is you go. Don’t wait. Don’t argue. Just run.”

They both nodded in unison, the seriousness in their faces mirroring Hopper’s.

“If it’s bad..” Steve started, his eyes shifting over to Will and Eleven, soft but no less serious. “No one but us knows where it is-”

His chest tightened as his voice brushed through the bond, low and urgent. -Suits will use the two of them just as much as us. Maybe even… Eddie..- He was full of nerves, bordering on scared.

Eddie’s pulse kicked up, but he kept his expression steady. ‘We’ll bring them. Doc’ll forget us. We just.. We make sure no one can find any of us.’

He nodded once, sharp, turning back to Hopper and Joyce. “We’ll bring Eleven and Will. No one knows where it is, and we’ll keep them safe.” His voice carried more certainty than he felt, but the bond hummed steady with Eddie’s reassurance between them.

“Promise.” Eddie added, softer but no less firm, listing his pinkie with a lopsided grin that felt like defiance in the face of everything closing in around them.

Will let out a shaky laugh. Eleven sat, serious as ever, but her shoulders eased a fraction as she nodded.

The tension in the room didn’t dissolve, but it shifted, settling into a kind of fragile resolve. Joyce was already pushing back from the table, moving quickly toward the hall to gather whatever they might need. Jonathan rubbed his hands over his jeans, his own nervous energy sharp. Hopper reached for the phone again, dialing with a grunt.

And on the couch, Eddie’s hand found his, fingers locking tight, the bond humming with quiet determination.

‘We’ll keep them safe, sweetheart.’

-Yeah… No matter what.-

---

They sat on the cold tile of the Hawkins Lab bathroom, hidden away in the farthest corner they could find, but keeping on the same floor as the Party. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead buzzed loudly in time with the noises down the halls, harsh and unrelenting. Steve was slumped heavily against Eddie, his cheek pressed into Eddie’s chest, listening to the nervous thudding of his boyfriend’s heart. Eddie had both arms wrapped around him, holding on as if he could shield him from the walls themselves.

It was too much.

The sterile smell of disinfectant. The echo of rushing footsteps down the hallways. The way the white-painted cinderblock walls closed in, the flicker of overhead lights that never dimmed, the clipped orders barked by soldiers that carried loud in their ears, even from floors away.

The lab.

Not the lab- but cloud enough. Close enough that Steve’s mind couldn’t tell the difference.

They had come here packed into Hopper’s van, moving fast through the outer ends of Hawkins. He and Eddie had taken the back, pressed together hiding from the world around them, silent through the ride. Eleven and Will rode up front, silent in their own ways, the weight of Hopper’s promise before he’d even started the van, I won’t let them hurt any of you, sat heavy in the air. Jonathan had broken off to pick up Dustin, Lucas, and Erica, while Mike and Nancy swung by to gather Robin and Max. Wayne-God bless him- had even gone out of his way to grab Murray, grumbling about “that paranoid bastard’s mouth” even as he shoved him through the lab doors.

One by one, they’d all poured into the Hawkins Lab. Telling their own stories of how the roads looked or how the town was practically pulsing. But the moment their group had stepped inside, the air had shifted.

Agents everywhere. Officers shouting into radios. Soldiers with rifles strapped across their chests, boots stomping in every direction. The place was chaos. Controlled, maybe, but chaos all the same. The walls seemed to hum with urgency, with fear. And when Owens had rushed forward, firing off questions- what happened, how long ago, how much do you know, what exactly changed, were there any attacks- they hadn’t been able to breathe. It was all too much.

They’d bolted before half the Party had even arrived.

Now, here, in the stuffy bathroom, tucked at the back of the lab, hidden between the wall and the stall. His chest was a vice. His heart was slamming, a jackhammer against his ribs.

-It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.-

He thought it over and over, like a mantra. He didn’t even realize he was broadcasting it along the bond, flooding Eddie’s mind with it, until his body betrayed him. His breath hitched, shallow and frantic. He clawed for air that wasn’t enough, wasn’t filling him, couldn’t fill it.

-It couldn’t.. There wasn’t enough.. Why is there?- Suddenly he was thrashing, arms jerking, legs kicking against Eddie’s hold. He couldn’t see him with his eyes clenched tightly shut, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think. He was back in restraints, back in that place, and the walls were pressing in.

“Stevie!” Eddie’s voice cut through, sharp, panicked, but still soft enough not to scare him further. “Steve!... Harrington!”

He fought harder. Eddie’s grip only tightening.

“Sweetheart- hey, hey, look at me!” Eddie leaned down, forcing his forehead against Steve’s trying to ground him with the weight of touch. His curls ticked Steve’s cheek. “You’re okay. You’re okay, I promise. We’re in Hawkins. Hawkins, Stevie. The lab, yeah, but not there. Not that one.”

His chest heaved. His eyes kept tightly shut.

Eddie whispered now, lips pressed against his forehead, words tumbling out fast. “Wayne’s here. Hopper, Joyce, the kids- I can hear all of them. They’re right down the hall, right outside these walls. No one’s gonna hurt us. No one’s gonna use us. No one’s gonna split us apart.” His hands stroked up Steve’s back, firm but gentle. “It’s just us. Just me and you.. C’mon sweetheart, breathe with me. Come on. In and out.. That’s it in.. And out..”

The bond practically screamed between them, ragged and raw. Steve’s panic bleeding through it, wild and choking. Eddie pushed back everything he had- a steady calm, a thick feeling they didn’t yet have words for, the stubborn assurance that he wasn’t letting go.

Slowly, so slowly, Steve’s thrashing calmed. His breaths came in shuddering gasps, not even real breaths yet, but at least he wasn’t actively trying to claw his way past Eddie anymore.

“Atta boy.” Eddie murmured, nuzzling his temple against Steve’s forehead. His voice cracked but he couldn’t care. “Knew you could do it. Just stay with me, Stevie. Just me.”

Eddie’s head suddenly snapped up, but he didn’t loosen his grip on Steve. Jonathan stepped slowly inside, closing the door with a soft click. His eyes scanned around before landing on them, looking as if to check them for injuries- but all he saw was Steve trembling in Eddie’s arms, Eddie holding on like a lifeline- and his throat worked around a sudden lump.

“Hey… Owens had the agents back off, for now.” Jonathan said softly, crouching a short distance away. He kept his tone low, measured, the way he spoke when Will or Eleven had a nightmare. “He’s letting all of us explain things instead. No more orders, no more shouting at us. Just… The Party. All of us. So you know.. A chaotic calm.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath of relief, nodding once. Steve’s fingers clutched at his shirt, finally, finally, getting his breathing under control.

Jonathan’s gaze softened as he moved to sit cross-legged on the tile. “Everyone’s been caught up with it all. About you two. About what happened this morning and.. Everything.” He hesitated, then added. “The soldiers, the agents- they don’t know everything. Just that you’re… What you are now. And that you’re not a threat. Owens made that very clear.”

Eddie’s hand rubbed slow circles across Steve’s back, soothing him. “Not sure they’re gonna buy that part.” He muttered.

Jonathan gave a small shrug. “You two being in here is kinda helping the whole non threatening part but.. Doesn’t matter what they think, they’ll follow Ownes’s lead. And the kids.. Well you know how they are, none of us ever saw you as a threat. They just wanted to see you again.” His voice dipped, almost a whisper. “We know you two are still dealing with things but.. We’ve all missed you guys. So I was.. I am glad, that you came over last night.”

Steve let out a quiet broken noise against Eddie’s chest, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Eddie pressed a kiss into his hair.

“We’ll be out soon. We just.. Need some time.” Eddie said softly, but his tone brook no argument.

Jonathan nodded once. “Hopper’s stopped the others from rushing in here, but I’ll let them know.

He stayed there for a little while longer, as if making sure they were really alright, before he pushed himself back up and slipped back out into the hall, closing the door gently behind him.

The quiet settled again, heavy but no longer crushing. His breathing was evening out, each inhale shaky but fuller than the last. Eddie held him tight, rocking them minutely. Through the bond, Eddie whispered everything he suddenly felt unable to voice. ‘I’ve got you. You’re safe. Always, sweetheart.’

His answer came halting, raw, but honest. -I know.-

His breathing came slower, almost normal. The tremors that had racked through his body were easing into faint shivers now, every one of them absorbed and steadied by Eddie’s arms. For a long while he just stayed pressed into Eddie’s chest, letting himself sink into the familiar warmth, the steady thrum of a heartbeat that wasn’t his own, but his favorite to be around nonetheless.

Then- slowly, carefully- he let out a deep, dragging sigh, the kind that emptied him out and left him hollow but feeling lighter at the same time. His forehead slipped against Eddie’s shoulder as he sat up a little straighter, not yet moving away completely. His hand, which had been fisted weakly in Eddie’s shirt, loosened and slid down, coming to rest at the dip of Eddie’s stomach. His palm lingered there, splayed wide as if needing the contact.

Eddie’s eyes softened. He let one hand drift from Steve’s back, sliding down his spine, then along his arm until his fingers brushed over the back of Steve’s hand. He pressed his palm over Steve’s where it lay against his stomach.

-I wish we had been together before.. Everything. He really is amazing.- He thought to himself, as he just let himself breathe for a moment, the warmth between them echoing back from one another.

He turned his head then, leaning in. The kiss they shared was feather-light, unhurried. Eddie smiled against it, a brief upward twitch of his lips before they separated, forehead bumping.

“You feel alright?” Eddie murmured, his voice still low, edged with worry.

He just nodded, jaw tight, not trusting his voice just yet. He gave Eddie’s stomach a final little squeeze before shifting and bracing a palm against the floor. With slow steadiness, he pushed himself up onto his feet. He wobbled for half a second, but then squared his shoulders, forcing strength back into his stance.

He turned, immediately offering a hand down.

Eddie didn’t hesitate. He laced their fingers together and let Steve tug him up, and in one fluid motion was back at his side, close enough that their arms brushed.

Neither let go.

They stepped out of the bathroom together, hand in hand, their grip almost desperate. -When things go back to ‘normal’.. We’re gonna have to be less… Less like how we are, in public.- He thought to himself, mouth pressing into a thin line.

The moment the door opened, it was like a dam collapsed.

Voices overlapping, boots striking against tile, radios buzzing with blipped bursts of static and orders. The pulse of dozens upon dozens of heartbeats carried down the hall, some thudding quick and sharp with adrenaline, others lower, steadier, but still edges with worry.

Steve flinched hard, his shoulders tensing, his free hand rising instinctively to rub as his forehead. Their hearing caught everything- far too much at once- and for a second, he leaned into Eddie as if to block it all out.

-Too much.- He hissed through the bond, wincing at the noise.

Eddie’s thumb brushed against his hand, steady. ‘Just focus on me sweetheart. One voice, Stevie. Just me.’

He nodded, working his jaw as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came. He took a second just to breathe, letting his senses calm, the noise slowly drowning out into a more manageable level. Together, they started down the hall, steps in sync as they drowned out the noise around them.

When they rounded into the wider room where everyone had fathered, it was Wayne’s eyes that found them first. He stood beside Hopper, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his gaze swept over both of them the way it always seemed to do these days- checking for cuts, bruises, lingering tremors. It was clinical and protective tied together, and Steve felt the weight of it settle deep in his chest.

Hopper too, gave them a glance. Quick, assessing, how brow lowering as if to ask without words if they were alright. And then, with a faint nod more to himself than to either of them, he turned back, satisfied enough to let it go.

‘Such dads.’ Eddie whispered into the bond, amusement curling into the thought. ‘Just doin’ their jobs, huh?’

He startled slightly at that, lips parting. A small, almost incredulous smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it, cracking through the tension. The bond hummed a little brother, threads of his quiet surprise bleeding into Eddie’s awareness- surprise, but also warmth, a swell of something soft and shy.

It said, without words: Yeah.. Our dads.

Eddie squeezed his hand, answering without words of his own.

Nearby, Owens noticed their return. He gave a brief nod in acknowledgement, not moving to them just yet. His attention was pulled by a woman in a dark suit who stood at his side, a pistol holstered at her hip, her tone clipped as she rattled off details to him. They didn’t need to care- but they picked up enough pieces anyway.

“...Demogorgon presence…”
“...Fast moving…”
“...Orgin point still unstable…”
“...Other dimension bleed-through…”

His grip tightened around Eddie’s at the words. Eddie tugging gently back, steering his focus elsewhere.

They didn’t need to linger on whatever the suits had planned. Not right now.

So they turned their attention to the Party instead.

The kids clustered together in small groups, restless but waiting, their chatter muted but steady. Dustin paced tight circles near Lucas and Erica, his words tumbling too fast even for them to pick apart. Max leaned against Robin, both of them whispering back and forth in low tones. Jonathan was by Will and Eleven, his posture a silent shield, one hand resting on his knee, thumb brushing rhythmically.

Through the noise, he and Eddie listened. Really listened.

Heartbeats thumped around the room, most of them quick with nerves but not frantic. No panic, no overwhelming fear. Not yet. Just the constant pulse of adrenaline, threaded with determination. The air carried sweat and coffee, faint blood from paper cuts on Lucas’s hand, the sharper tang of metal from weapons kept too close.

Nothing that set their instincts clawing to run.

Nothing they couldn’t handle.

Steve let his shoulders drop just a fraction, his thumb brushing the back of Eddie’s hand in silent thanks. Eddie gave a quick squeeze, tilting his head toward him, the bond warming between them with his quiet approval.

For now, they just stayed there- standing shoulder to shoulder with Wayne and Hopper, and a surprisingly quiet, though he kept throwing them knowing looks- Murray. They kept their tight grip on one another, waiting, watching, listening to the sound of familiar heartbeats mixing with the chaos swelling around them.

After a while, Owens and the woman finally walked over, their steps heavy with hesitation that only came before bad news. Both of them tried for professionalism- spined straight, expressions composed- but the stench of WorryFearNerves rolling off Owens in suffocating waves, and the sharp sour tang of the woman’s unease clung like iron to the back of his throat.

The conversations around the room stilled, one after another, until silence pressed against the walls like a held breath.

A pit formed in his stomach. He could feel Eddie’s hand tighten against his, could feel them both instinctively hold their breaths as though the air itself had gone sour.

“I believe..” Owens started, glancing down at the clipboard clutched in his arm.

Eddie’s voice trickled through the bond, dry despite the thrum of dread beneath it. ‘This Owens?’

-Mhm.-

‘Doc wannabe more like.’

-...Yup.- But there was no real humor in it. The words a thin distraction, fraying at the edges.

“Based on the information Jim and Joyce provided us..” Owens continued, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “when Eleven and Har- Steve.. Connected their powers, it formed some sort of feedback. A connection of sorts.”

There was a sharp uptick of heartbeats around the room. The reminder- Steve not being human anymore. Most of the group was still reeling over the shock that Steve had powers and was something completely other, like they’d somehow forgotten both he and Eddie weren’t even human anymore.

“That connection-” Owens pressed on, lifting his eyes from the clipboard to look around at all of them, “-seems to have awoken the Upside Down from its dormant state.”

For a heartbeat, silence.

Then voices burst through like a dam breaking.

Shouts overlapped, fear crashing into anger, disbelief tangling with panic.

But Steve barely heard it. He couldn’t focus on a single voice- only the roar of his own heart in his ears and the echo of FearTerrorHorror reverberating back and forth between him and Eddie. The feedback loop made it unbreakable- his panic stoking Eddie’s, Eddie’s amplifying his- until it felt like they were both suffocating under it.

“Please!” Owen’s voice cracked sharp enough to cut through their rising panic and the noise around them. “Let me finish.”

The room faltered into silence again, but his chest still heaved, his throat too tight to swallow.

“The gates through Hawkins,” Owens continued slowly, carefully, “have reopened and are now in an active state. And due to that.. We believe…” He faltered, closing his eyes as if to gather strength, before forcing the words out. “..We’ve relocated civilians to their designated safe areas. But… Incoming reports from soldiers in town suggest that Henry, One, your Vecna.. Is finally making another move.”

The words dropped like bricks into an ocean.

The room exploded into a chaos Owens could no longer control.

Dustin’s voice cracked high as he shouted over Robin’s, both tumbling over each other in frantic questions. Nancy crossed her arms tight across her chest, her expression like carved stone as her jaw tightened. Erica clamped her hand around Lucas’s wrist, squeezing hard enough to make her knuckles blanch. Max leaned closer into Lucas, her mouth tight, one hand twisting into his sleeve, they both looked terrified. Eleven’s back straightened, her chin lifting in stubborn defiance. Will wilted, his shoulders curling in, and Jonathan immediately curled an arm protectively around him. Mike edged closer too, his face pale but determined, standing just slightly ahead of Will as if to block the weight of the words.

Hopper, Joyce, Murray, and Wayne pulled closer together, their voices a low hum they couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, but their bodies tense with barely contained urgency.

But he and Eddie…

Fear swallowed them whole.

Vecna. One. Henry.

Four years. They’d been gone four years and he hadn’t made a move, not even a whisper. They’d survived hell, survived monsters, survived him. Eddie had actually died for them. He had nearly followed. They had clawed their way back from the brink. And now…

All because they’d been careless. Because he and El had been messing around, trying things, connecting their powers on an accident.

It had what? Woken him up?

-My fault. My fault. My fault.- The words hammered through his mind, jagged and relentless, bleeding straight into the bond. Eddie didn’t even have the strength to argue back- not in words. His grip tightened instead, fierce enough he could hear the creak of his bones. The pressure a desperate reassurance.

But it wasn’t enough.

They couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Fear that they thought was bad before, now cut through them in jagged shards, sharp enough to slice from the inside. Their hearts pounded too fast, too wrong- faster than the humans around them- but warped, frantic, like they were burning themselves out. They could feel the difference, how their bodies weren’t built for this kind of terror anymore, how it made them feel wrong.

They shouldn’t be here.

Shouldn’t be alive.

Shouldn’t have survived the first time.

They shouldn’t- shouldn’t-

It isn’t…

-Eddie…-

‘Steve…’

They looked at each other in sync. No words passed, they didn’t need them. Because the fear was the same. The thought was the same.

What if they didn’t survive a second time?

Then quieter,

What if the kids didn’t?

His vision blurred. He didn’t even realize it until Eddie’s thumb brushed against his cheek, rough and trembling, wiping away a single tear that had slipped free. Neither of them had come out of it unscathed, not even Steve the first time around. But Eddie had died. Steve had dragged himself and the kids through the aftermath bleeding and broken.

And now they stood on the edge of it all again.

The question hung between them, unspoken, heavy enough to crush.

Would any of them survive it this time?

Notes:

Sorry for what's to come. :)

Chapter 38: Hawkins Lab

Summary:

Owens had managed to get them a space that at least looked like it was meant for people rather than test subjects.

Notes:

Warning: Panic attack at the beginning. There's also very sexual blood drinking and implied sex.

No actual smut in this chapter.

The lab dissolved into chaos around them.

The wide, sterile hallways that had once carried the Party’s nervous chatter now roasted with frantic activity. Soldiers jogged in tight formations, rifles strapped to their chests, boots pounding a steady drumbeat against tile. Radios spat clipped bursts of static-laced orders- “-Contain the perimeter.” “-sector B in lockdown at-” “-eyes on the gate breach near east-” -while agents in sharp suits stomped past, clipboards and hand signals snapping like weapons. Their faces carved with urgency.

The air reeked of stress and strain: sweat thick under deodorant, the metallic tang of lead, the bitter bite of too much coffee swallowed too fast. Steve’s nose twitched at every passing scent until his throat felt tight, each inhale scraping like sandpaper. Eddie’s arm, a warm steady presence pressed to his side, their fingers laced in a white-knuckled grip. But even that wasn’t enough to keep him focused.

The Party had been fractured into clusters.

Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and Erica huddled together as close as they were allowed to be to Eleven and Will. Dustin paced in tight, anxious circles, hands slicing the air, words spilling too fast to follow, and they honestly were too busy to try. Lucas nodded along fiercely, jaw tight. While Erica- usually sharp as glass- stood silent, arms crossed, sharp tongue muted for once, one hand clenched on her brother’s sleeve. Mike was hovering closest to Dustin, pale and tense, but his eyes flicked again and again back toward Will, as if to make sure he was still there.

Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan made up another group gathered farther away, pressed into a semicircle of whispered strategy. Robin’s hands flailed wildly through the air as she argued, her voice sharp and rising, bouncing off the walls. While Nancy, steady and cutting, countered every point with clipper precision. Jonathan didn’t say much, but the way his thumb constantly rubbed across his knuckles betrayed his focus, his intent listening, the way he was thinking it all over, considering all possibilities.

At the opposite far end stood Wayne, Hopper, Joyce, and Murray. A wall of adults, their circle tight, voices low but edged with steel. Hopper leaned over a table they’d cleared, jaw set tight, his gaze never straying far from Eleven and Will. Joyce pressed close, whispering reassurances he only half-heard. Wayne’s eyes never seemed to stop moving, sweeping the room, cataloging, counting heads. Murray was beside him muttering at his shoulder, half-paranoid, half-practical, hands punctuating each anxious word.

It looked like a practiced dance- everyone falling into the roles they knew.

In the center of it all, Eleven and Will stood, float suits being checked and adjusted. Men in lab coats- technicians, his brain supplied- attached wires trailing from their wrists, monitors strapping tight to their arms. The hum of machinery swelled, loud and cold.

Both of them stood stiff, practiced, falling into a routine they should never have had to learn- Eleven with her chin tipped in quiet defiance, Will with lips pressed thin a grim understanding shadowing his face. Everyone kept reminding them they’d been training together for over two years, as if repeating it would solve all their problems. Over and over. Float tank they’d mentioned. Go in, come back out, have their answers.

Steve’s chest ached just looking at them. -They’re too young for this.- He thought to himself.

He and Eddie hadn’t moved to join any of the groups. They lingered off to the side, tucked against the wall, ears tuned not only to their friends, their family, but to the soldiers. To the clipped commands and thudding boots. Always listening for the moment those words turned toward them.

“-second sighting near Marple Street, fast moving, no civilian casualties, yet…”
“-civilians eastbound to Safehouse Delta, repeat, Delta….”
“-target form unconfirmed, so-called ‘Demogorgon’ behavior consistent with…”

Each fragment dug sharp beneath his ribs. Their bond humming faintly between them, a quiet presence as they both strained to catch every word without drawing attention, cataloguing danger, readying for the blow neither trusted the suits to warn them about in time.

And then-

As soon as Eleven and Will were ready-

With a mechanical groan, the float tank rose from the ground.

Metal scraped. Chains rattled. The massive chamber lifted slowly, its sides slick and gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. White mist hissed from the seals as technicians adjusted valves, the stench of chemicals and salt flooding the room. The size of it…

-Too big, too consuming, too much like-

Steve’s body locked. His eyes widened, every muscle snapping taut as though the floor had dropped out from beneath him.

The bond screamed.

His heartbeat skyrocketed, frantic and wild against his ribs. His breath caught jagged in his throat, chest burning, and before he realized it, he’d staggered back a step, jerking free of Eddie’s arm.

Eddie’s head snapped toward him instantly. “Stevie?” His voice pitched high, sharp, panicked. It cut through the static of radios, through the roar of boots and orders, through whispered conversations. “Hey, what’s up?.. What’s wrong?”

The room froze. Every head turned as conversations halted mid-breath. The soldiers stationed to watch them glanced over, hands brushing their rifles as if ready for a fight. Hopper’s eyes darted to Wayne, who was already moving toward them. Even Owens paused mid-sentence with the same suited woman, eyes narrowing in concern.

But he didn’t see any of them.

Didn’t hear them.

He stared unblinking at the tank.

At the looming metal chamber that hissed and gleamed under too-bright lights. At the way steam curled like the ghosts of his memories.

And suddenly, he wasn’t in the Hawkins lab anymore.

He was back- back where there wasn’t enough air. Where restraints bit into his wrists, threatening infection. Where grey walls pressed closer with every blink. Where he couldn’t breathe without pain.

His chest seized, the sound of his own heart pounding louder than the chaos of the lab around him.

Terror rooted him to the floor.

Everyone else was staring at him, but all he could do was stare at it.

At the thing that wasn’t just a tank.

It was a prison.

One his body remembered before his brain could argue.

The hiss of hydraulics as it lifted. The groan of machinery. The rush of pressure valves releasing air. The stench of chemical brine as the lid cracked open-

It hit like a freight train.

His instincts screamed louder than his thoughts, danger, and every breath burned like fire.

His chest clamped down tight, ribs squeezing in, lungs straining against a pressure that wasn’t there- but his body swore it was. His vision tunneled, white-hot at the edges. His knees threatened to give out, but before he could hit the ground, Eddie’s arms suddenly wrapped firmly around his waist, guiding him down slowly.

But the touch seared like fire. He tore free, scrambling backwards on his hands and heels, eyes locked on the tank- hulking, gleaming, monstrous. His face drained of any remaining color.

The bond jolted, raw terror broadcasting through like a live wire.

Eddie’s stomach dropped. He felt it all: Steve’s panic, jagged and spiraling, his thoughts stumbling over themselves in a loop. -Too much, too much, too close, too real, can’t, can’t do it, not again, not.. Can’t.. Not again-

“Stevie?.. Steve?” Eddie’s voice cracked, panic spilling in. He reached for him, only for Steve to scoot further back, chest heaving like his ribs were just another cage too small to contain him.

The tank groaned again as the platform locked into place. He flinched so hard it was like he’d been struck, one hand coming up to claw at his throat, searching for air that just wouldn’t come.

“Stevie.. Stevie please, you just need to stop brea-” He couldn’t hear him.

-Not real. Not real. Not real.-

Except his body was clearly real, his panic all too real. The bleach stung his nose. The tang of iron on his tongue. The sterile sting of old fear mashed with new. And the metal ground deep into tile. His body didn’t care what his brain knew as the room blurred around him.

“Sweetheart- hey, hey, look at me.” Eddie’s voice wobbled but he forced it steady, crouching low, hands hovering but not daring to touch. “It’s me, Eddie. I’m right here.”

Steve suddenly lurched forward with a broken gasp, and he caught him. Arms firm as they held tight, dragging him close, clutching as if he could anchor him here by sheer force of will. “You’re okay. You’re not there, you’re with me. This is real, Stevie. This.. Is real.” He leaned down to place his lips against the crown of his hair. “Stay with me, sweetheart.”

The bond screamed with his panic- sharp, wild, jagged edges bleeding through until Eddie could feel it clawing at him, could barely breathe himself. But he shoved back hard against it sending everything he had, pouring calm, safety, warmth: safe, I’ve got you, this is real, you’re not there, it’s me Stevie, only me.

It wasn’t enough.

Steve thrashed against him, every muscle wired to fight. His breaths snapped out in sharp wheezing bursts, unable to fill his lungs. His wide glazed eyes were staring past, locked on the tank like it was something else entirely.

Wayne had moved the second Eddie’s tone shifted, but froze when Steve pulled away. Now the older man’s boots stuck the tile in calm, even, but hurried steps, face unreadable but eyes sharp with understanding.

He’d seen this before- in soldiers, in men dragged back home broken by war, had watched his brother crumble under the weight of things no one else could see. He knew the wild look in Steve’s eyes. He’d heard what they’d both gone through, seen them both in the throws of nightmares. But there were his boys. And no matter what happened to them, he wouldn’t lose them again.

Without hesitation, Wayne crouched low in front of Steve, voice pitched even and soft, like he was talking to a skittish animal. “Steve.. Hey, son. You’re alright. You hear me? You’re here, with us. No one’s gonna hurt you, you understand? Not while I’ve got breath in me, and not while Ed’s got you. You’re safe.”

Eddie clutched him tighter, rocking them minutely, whispering fierce, frantic promises against Steve’s ear, “You’re not there. You’re with me. No in that place, never again. Not-”

Steve choked on a sob, claws digging painfully into Eddie’s arm like he was bracing for restraints.

The others finally realized- really saw- what was happening. What had been done to him.

Robin slapped a trembling hand over her mouth, a gasp breaking free. She lurched a half-step forward, instinct to run to him, only for Joyce to snap out a quiet but firm, “Robin.” Her hand locking around Robin’s wrist, head shaking. Robin stood frozen, heart breaking, tears quietly rolling down her cheeks.

Dustin, wide-eyed, started forward in a rush. “Steve!”

But Jonathan moved faster, running up and catching him mid-stride, arms tight around his middle. “Don’t” He hissed as Dustin squirmed, arms flailing.

“Let me go! He needs me- he-” Dustin squirmed, elbows flying.

Jonathan tightened his grip, voice calm but firm, even as Dustin kicked back at him. “You’ll overwhelm him.. Dustin.. Stop!”

For a heartbeat, Dustin kept fighting, trying to get to him. But when his eyes landed on Steve- on the way he clawed uselessly for air, crumpled in Eddie’s arms- his movements faltered. His face crumpled, a raw, keening sound spilling out as he sagged against Jonathan, the fight leeching out of him as tears tracked hot down his cheeks.

The tank hissed again, a vent releasing steam. Steve flinched violently, his entire body jerking, a strangled cry tearing from his throat. Eddie’s grip tightened, his own panic breaking through.

“Fuck- Steve, please- listen to me.” Eddie was near full panic now, murmuring anything, everything, not caring who heard as his words tumbled out, frantic, desperate. “Baby, it’s not real. It’s not- no one’s gonna touch you, I swear it. No one’s gonna strap you down in here. I won’t fucking let ‘em, I swear on my life. Just- just breathe, please. C’mon just-”

Wayne pressed a firm hand to Steve’s knee, trying for comfort. “Steve. Right now, son. C’mon. In through your nose. With me. C’mon in-” He inhaled slow, exaggerated, steady. “Now out. Just follow me, you can do it.” He slowly breathed out.

His head whipped side to side, wild and unfocused, chest dragging in air too fast.

Then, another presence came- slow, steady steps that cut through the chaos. Hopper.

He crouched at Steve’s other side, gaze steady, carrying no judgement, no fear. He didn’t speak right away. Just laid one big, warm hand on Steve’s shoulder. Solid. Calm. Real.

“You’re safe, kid.” His voice was gravel thick but quiet, the tone he used when Will or Eleven woke from night terrors. “No one’s gonna hurt you here. You’ve got us. Me, Wayne, Eddie, all those kids- you’re covered. Nothing and no one is getting past all of us.”

The hand didn’t erase the panic, didn’t suddenly fix everything, but it tethered him, a faint weight to hold him here, to remind his body that he hadn’t left this place, that someone real and living had a hold on him.

Still, his gasps rattled, chest spasming with each too-sharp inhale. His whole body shook against Eddie’s arms, trembling harder with each new noise of the tank behind him.

It was Owens who was the next to move. The doctor approached carefully, cautiously, like he was approaching something wild and wounded, an animal ready to bolt. He stopped shy of crowing them, leaned in close to Wayne and Hopper, voice barely above a whisper.

“My office is down the hall,” Owens murmured quietly. “Soundproof. Softer lighting. He can watch the cameras without being near the tank...” His eyes flickered to Eddie, apologetic. “It might help.”

Wayne’s jaw tightened. But he gave a single, firm nod. Hopper’s hand pressed a little heavier into Steve’s shoulder, steady as his thumb traced back and forth.

Eddie didn’t so much as glance up. His entire world had narrowed down to right in front of him, Steve- his pale face, his wide eyes, the desperate clutch of his claws digging into his arm. He pulled him tighter, forehead pressed to temple, shoving warmth and safety through the bond. ‘Just me, sweetheart. Just me. Stay with me.’

He didn’t care about the lab. And, as bad as it sounded, right now he didn’t care about the kids. Or the stupid fucking tank looming behind him. None of it mattered right now.

Steve.

Steve was all that mattered.

But Steve couldn’t get his body to stop shaking. Every hiss from the tank, every groan of hydraulics as lab coats shifted clamps and cables sent him flinching harder against Eddie’s chest. His breathing refused to slow, shallow, jagged gulps like his lungs couldn’t find the room no matter who tried to help him. His claws scraped frantic lines into Eddie’s arm, his mind trapped in a place he couldn’t escape.

Eddie pressed his face into Steve’s hair, voice breaking as he continued to whisper. “You’re not there, sweetheart. You’re not. I swear it, and I’d never lie to you, Stevie.” He held on tightly, one hand cradling the back of Steve’s head, rocking him gently as if the motion alone might coax his body into believing it was safe somehow.

Wayne stayed crouched beside him, steady as stone though his eyes softened at every ragged gasp that tore its way free. He wanted to do something, to help his boys somehow. His voice stayed even, almost forced in its calm. “Steve. You’re here with us. You’re not alone in that place anymore. C’mon, son. Look at me.. If you can.”

But he couldn’t. His gaze darted wildly over Wayne’s shoulder, catching the glint of steel and the hiss of shirting clamps as techs moved around, unbothered by his scene. His chest hitched and seized, a keening sound clawing up his throat.

Eddie’s hands trembled where they held him. The bond felt like an open wound- Steve’s terror pouring through unchecked, flooding through them, threatening to drown him. Eddie shoved back everything he had: safe, with me, not there, never again.

Hopper kept crouched on his other side, voice staying low, solid and steady as the man himself, almost soothing with the familiarity of his tone alone. “It’s too much out here, kid. I know.. We’re gonna move you out of here, alright? Somewhere quieter.”

He gave no sign that he’d heard any of them. His heart stuttered, squeezed, each inhale raked across his chest sharp and wrong. His grip spasmed, shaking where his claws dug into Eddie, who still didn’t complain or even wince once. He felt the room closing in around him.

Owens leaned in just close enough for Hopper and Wayne to hear, Eddie glaring daggers at him just for coming near, his words were hushed. “My office is just down that way.” He pointed down the hallway at the other side of the room. “Just two halls over, and he shouldn’t be able to hear any of this in there.. Do you think you can move him?”

Wayne gave a single curt nod. Hopper’s jaw clenched, then he squeezed Steve’s shoulder just a little firmer, thumb smoothing back and forth.

“Alright, son.” Wayne’s voice softened. He gave Steve’s knee a quick, gentle squeeze. “We’re standing you up now. You just stay right between us, alright? And Ed’s won’t let go. So you just let us do the work.”

Eddie pressed his lips firmly against Steve’s temple, lingering there for a moment before slowly pulling back. “Hear that, sweetheart? You don’t gotta do a damn thing, ‘cept breathe. We’ve got you.”

For a long moment he didn’t move, didn’t breathe, like his body had locked up again. Then, slowly, Eddie and Wayne guided him up carefully, Hopper braced at his side. Slowly- so slowly- they eased him onto his feet.

He swayed, knees threatening to give, but Eddie caught him again, molding himself to his side, one hand splayed firm over his waist. His other hand stayed locked with Steve’s trembling fingers, letting Steve’s claws bite deep into his skin without complaint.

Wayne rose slowly with them, close and steady, his presence like a wall at their front. Hopper positioned himself on Steve’s other side, solid bulk a shield against curious eyes and the hallways beyond.

Together, they started forward. The kids started to move too, but Hopper’s sharp look cut them off, a single shake of his head keeping them in place.

The hallway stretched long and endless. Soldiers brushed past, boots striking sharp against tile, making the air thick with sweat, salt, and fear. In the distance voices barked orders, radios crackled with static, the metallic tang of weapons carried down each turn.

Eddie felt it in Steve before it ever showed on his face. The shudder of panic rising again- the grip crushing his hand, the frantic edge spilling raw through the bond, the way his mind was too exposed to control it.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.” Eddie kept his voice low, urgent against his ear. “Don’t look at any of them. Don’t focus on them. Just me, sweetheart. Just me.”

His gaze darted wildly around, unfocused, but Eddie leaned in until their temples pressed together, forcing the closeness. “None of them matter, Stevie. Just focus on me.”

Wayne rumbled low as he guided them on, following Owens hurried footsteps. “Almost there.”

They took a left. Then an immediate right.

And at the end of the hall, Owens hurriedly pressed in a passcode. A loud bolt unlocked and he pushed one of the heavy doors open, holding it wide.

The office was big- unexpectedly so. The lighting was soft, warm against beige walls- no harsh fluorescents buzzing overhead. The air felt still, calmer, carrying the faint trace of old paper and coffee instead of bleach and steel. No windows, but the walls were thick, the hum of chaos from the lab reduced to a muffled murmur for them.

For Steve, it wasn’t silence- but it was enough.

They guided him in, step by careful step, Eddie never more than an inch away.

A comfortable chair waited for him, far from the cold folding seats they’d been offered before. Wayne steadied Steve’s elbow as they moved him in, Hopper kept a hand firm at his shoulder, and Eddie slowly eased him down until he was leaning back into the cushioned seat.

The chair gave easily, enveloping him. Eddie stayed half-kneeling at his side, one hand clutching his, the other braced against the armrest like he was ready to pounce on anyone who caused his Stevie harm.

His chest still shuddered, breaths coming sharp and shallow, but the raw edge of panic had slowly begun to dull with the tank out of sight, the noises of the lab being muffled.

Owens moved quietly, working quickly as he turned on the monitors at his desk on the side of the room. Screens flickering to life, showing the float tank, the lobby, different parts of the lab. But the biggest one was focused on their large group, speakers thankfully muted. He adjusted the angles until Steve could see everything without needing to move his chair, then he stepped back.

He glanced between Wayne and Hopper, then at Eddie- though Eddie never looked up, his focus locked entirely on Steve. Owens spoke softly. “He’s safe here. No one else knows the code to get in.. Stay here as long as you need, all of you.”

Then he slipped out, closing the heavy door behind him.

The quieted thrum of the lab dimmed further, a muffled hum. But entirely silent for the two humans in the room.

Wayne crouched beside Steve’s knee, hand resting lightly on the armrest beside him. His gaze swept over him like a father would his son after a nightmare- checking, worrying, but never judging. “Steve.. You’re alright. And no one is mad at you.” His tone carried quiet certainty as he reached up to brush hair from Steve’s eyes. He knew the boy’s tendency to see himself as a burden. “You’re safe here.”

Steve’s gaze flicked uncertainly around the room before darting back to Eddie. His breath still wobbled, wrong, heart still racing refusing to settle. Eddie leaned up to press their foreheads together, refusing to let go of him. “C’mon sweetheart. Like Wayne told you, in… And out…” He exaggerated his breathing, slow and deliberate.

He tried to copy him, a shaky drag in, a fractured exhale. Eddie whispered praise against his temple, lips pressing lightly. “Atta boy.. Just like that.. Again, sweetheart.”

Hopper stood solid at his other side, blocking the door from sight, stance protective. His hand rested lightly on Steve’s shoulder, a warm steady weight. “You don’t need to be okay right now, kid. You just gotta come back to us, let us help. That’s all.”

Every so often his breath hitched sharp, panic flaring again like a struck match. And each time Eddie caught it- squeezing his hand tight until Steve blinked up at him, or pressing his lips heavily to his head, whispering quietly until the world narrowed back down. “Just us, Stevie. Just focus on us.”

Minutes stretched on. The sharp, jagged edges slowly dulled. His trembling eased into faint shivers, jaw slowly unclenching, though his lips were now a bloodless pale.

After a while Wayne and Hopper exchanged a glance beside him- equal parts relief and worry. When his breathing finally calmed enough, coming slow and quiet, Wayne rose with a soft sigh, hand reaching for his, lingering for a squeeze. “You’ve got him, Eds. We’re gonna step out, give you boys space. Just.. Call us if either of you need anythin’.”

Hopper gave Steve’s shoulder one last squeeze before slowly drawing back, hand lingering until it was just the tips of his fingers. “We’ll be right down the hall, making sure no one else tries to come running over here.”

Eddie nodded once, eyes never leaving Steve. “I’ve got him. He’s gonna be fine.” His voice was low, certain, but his body curled protectively toward Steve like a shield.

Wayne and Hopper shared one last glance, then moved to quietly slip out, letting the office doors seal behind them.

The muffled quiet settled heavily around the two of them.

As soon as the door shut, Steve sagged forward. His breathing still wavered unevenly, but the sharp edge of panic had dulled into exhaustion. Eddie reached up to rub soothing slow circles across his back, murmuring softly. “I’m here, sweetheart. You’re safe… Always gonna be safe with me.”

And he meant it.

He didn’t care what Vecna was planning, or what Brenner thought he was going to do, or what waited for them outside those doors. None of it mattered. Right here, right now- Steve was all that mattered.

It took a while, Eddie keeping up his quiet constant reassurances until, slowly, Steve began to return to himself. His breathing finally starting to even out in small, measured sips of air, the frantic rise and fall of his chest easing into the quiet, barely there breaths again. The trembling in his hands had stopped, though his claws hadn’t receded yet, still digging into Eddie’s hand. The thundering heartbeat that had rattled his ribs dulled back to the slow, occasional thumps.

His shoulders slowly lowered, the fight bleeding out of him. “There you are.” Eddie whispered, leaning down to brush a lingering kiss on his forehead, before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “Had me really worried there.”

His throat worked, dry and scraped raw. “Sorry.” He rasped, like the words had to claw their way out.

Eddie’s face softened, then pinched. “No.” He all but growled, free hand moving to card slowly through Steve’s hair, smoothing it back just the way his boyfriend liked. “I don’t want to hear an apology, sweetheart. Not for that, never.. Never for that.” His knuckles ghosted along Steve’s jaw before gently tilting his chin up. His smile was soft around the edges, but fierce underneath. “We both have our bad moments. Nothing to be sorry about.”

Steve blinked, slow and heavy, like the words had to sink through layers of fog. He let himself lean into Eddie’s palm, the warmth comforting. For a long moment, it was just them, the office nearly silent, the heavy doors keeping the world at bay.

Then, reluctantly, Eddie shifted. He moved behind Steve’s chair, looping his arms firmly around it and over Steve’s shoulders, fingers locking over Steve’s chest, caging him in. His chin came up to rest on top of Steve’s head. “Not lettin’ you out of arm’s reach.” He murmured, rubbing his chin back and forth, musing Steve’s hair again.

“...Like a cat.” He mumbled as they turned to watch the monitors together.

The labs cameras flickered across the screens, giant and clinical. One monitor showed Hopper and Wayne, standing with Joyce and Robin near Owens, faced drawn tight. Another camera panned across the rest of the Party- Dustin staring at Wayne and Hopper eyes narrowed, Jonathan steady beside him also staring, Max watching on with narrowed eyes. Everyone else stood around in a loose circle, shoulders held tight. Tension vibrated through the group like a plucked wire.

Steve sat still tense but quiet, Eddie’s arms a comforting weight, one hand moved back to lace tightly with Steve’s on the chair arm, the other splayed over his heart. Every so often, Eddie pressed his lips briefly to Steve’s hair, as if to say I’m still here. Slowly, carefully, his claws receded as the panic died away. The small wounds on Eddie’s hand quickly healing.

They’d been sitting there long enough that the hum of monitors had become background noise, just another that he could filter out. When suddenly, movement on the largest screen made his chest seize again.

It was time.

Eleven and Will were walking up the stairs toward the tank.

His breath caught with a sharp gasp, body tensing like someone had pulled a string too tight. His grip on Eddie’s hand clamped back down, knuckles turning white.

“Stevie-” Eddie started, voice tight with worry but keeping calm.

But he shook his head, eyes never leaving the screen. “Audio.” He whispered hoarsely, voice trembling, but the words were clear enough. “I need to hear it.”

Eddie hesitated, torn, his arm around Steve tightening as though he could shield him from everything else. “Baby, you don’t-”

“I need to.” He repeated, sharper this time, though it cracked halfway through. His gaze didn’t leave the image of Will and El climbing up those steps.

Eddie swore under his breath, kissed the side of Steve’s head like a promise, and moved over to the desk. His hands flicked switches, turned a nob, and the room filled with the low hiss of speakers coming to life. Owens’s voice broadcasting softly, calmly, through the room.

“You two take your time. There’s no need to rush it.”

His breath shuddered, chest rising too fast, panic clawing its way back in. Eddie quickly came back over and wrapped his arms back around his chest, keeping his hold tight, squeezing in time with each ragged inhale, trying to keep the panic at bay with the pressure. “It’s okay, Stevie. It’s okay. They’ve been doing this for years.”

On the screen, Will paused at the top of the stairs, glancing back at Eleven. She gave a sharp, sure nod.

Owen’s voice came again, gentler. “And remember- do not engage if you see One. Not under any circumstance.”

The words rattled through the speakers, too loud despite how low they were set. The sound seemed to reverberate in his bones. His eyes stayed locked on the tank, wide and unblinking, fear following through the bond again.

Eddie pressed his lips to Steve’s hair, arms tightening again. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. No one’s gonna get hurt.”

Still, he didn’t look away from the screen.

The speakers hummed again, Owens’s calm instructions giving way to muffled shuffling and voices overlapping. For a moment, all he could hear was the uneven thrum of his own heart in his ears, but then- through the faint distortion- the whispers started to take shape.

“So.. How’s he doing?” Joyce’s quiet voice cut through, like she was trying not to be overheard.

Wayne’s reply followed, quieter, heavy with concern. “Can’t rightly say. He never mentioned nothin’ ‘bout water, or somethin’ like that thing over there. Nothin’ that’d make him-” Wayne cut himself short, but the weight in his tone was obvious. “Didn’t see it comin’. But I should’a.. Bein’ in here after all they’d gone through? Just be glad it didn’t happen earlier. ‘Coulda been much worse.”

There was a long pause before Joyce’s voice came in again, soft, careful. “Maybe it’s something from before.. Before the lab?”

Wayne let out a little grunt of disagreement. “He was on the swim team, has a pool at his home that he was around just the other day and it doesn’t freak him out like that.. It’s gotta be from them.”

Silence stretched, thick and heavy after that admission. Then Hopper cut in, his words low and flat but edged with something dangerous. “...They tortured him.” A pause. The mic picked up the faint sound of him clearing his throat, trying to keep himself in check. “Jesus, after all you told us there’s more isn’t there?”

Steve’s nails curled into his palms, trying to prevent his claws from coming back out. His breathing came sharp. The word echoed- tortured- and his body threatened to shut down again, to fold back into that choking panic.

But Eddie was already there, reading him easily, cutting it off before it could drag him back down. He pressed a string of quick, feather-light kisses along Steve’s temple, his cheeks, down to the hinge of his jaw. “Hey, hey- stay with me.” Another kiss, warm and insistent, pressing into the curve of his neck now. The angle awkward coming from behind him. Eddie’s lips lingered this time, his breath tickling skin as he spoke against it. “You’re safe, Stevie. Just us in here. They won’t find us again.”

He shuddered, breath stuttering in uneven bursts. He tried to cling to the feeling of Eddie’s lips against his skin, to the bond thrumming with warmth from the other end. Eddie didn’t let up. He trailed his mouth along Steve’s jaw again, a kiss here, another there, purposefully playful now.

“Eds-” His voice cracked, but a soft laugh bubbled up and escaped him anyway, unburdened. Eddie’s nose brushed against his neck before another kiss landed, making him squirm just a little.

“There it is.” Eddie’s smile curved against his throat, triumphant. “Knew I could get that sound outta you.”

He huffed, shaky but real, and for the first time in hours the laughter came easy. It softened the edges of panic, pulled him into something lighter, something safer. The sound of the lab, the tank, even the murmured voices in the background- all of it dimmed.

Almost without thinking, Steve turned. The chair creaking as he pulled free of Eddie’s arms, spinning around to face him. His hands found Eddie’s hips, fingers digging in briefly before one slid up and fisted tight in the fabric at his chest. He tugged hard, dragging Eddie down until their mouths crashed together.

The kiss landed hot, desperate- Steve clinging like he might drown without him. He bit down first, lips bruising, tongue pushing past with raw urgency. Eddie gave back just as much, leaning right in, meeting him with equal fervor, like he’d been waiting for Steve to ask.

Eddie’s hand slid up into Steve’s hair, tugging just enough to drag out a groan into the kiss, the sound muffed and needy. He arched up, clawed fingers snagging Eddie’s shirt, pricking through fabric like he couldn’t hold him close enough. Eddie only pressed in closer, like he’d take every sharp edge Steve threw at him, gladly, if it meant Steve knew how much he was wanted.

They kissed hard, messy- teeth scraping, tongues sliding, breathless little noises spilling between them. He moved like he could devour every inch of Eddie, chase every phantom thought out with the press of his lips. And Eddie gave, and gave, pouring everything into the way his lips, his hands moved, the way his thumb stroked along Steve’s jaw as if to say without words: you’re here, you’re mine, you’re safe.

For long, breathless minutes, nothing outside their bubble existed. Just the taste of Eddie, the rough heat of it all, the bond humming sharp and electric in his chest. Every drag of Eddie’s mouth against his fed something raw and needy inside him, until the fear began to dissolve, swallowed whole by the fire between them.

But eventually, the sharp edge of desperation eased. The kiss slowed, softened. Eddie’s lips moved lazily now, warm and unhurried, lingering like he had all the time in the world. Steve let himself sink into it, letting Eddie guide the rhythm down, each slow press a reminder that he didn’t need to fight anymore.

Eddie kissed him again and again, each time softer but continuous, as though he never planned on stopping. He leaned into it, breaths evening out, content just to feel him there. The heat faded off to their usual slow burn, leaving only the comfort of closeness, of knowing Eddie was still here- wrapped around him, kissing him like a promise he’d never say aloud.

That was when the speaker crackled, breaking their fragile cocoon.

Mike’s voice cut through -fucking Wheeler-, impatient, pitched high with nerves. “How long are they gonna be in there?”

He froze, slowly pulling away from Eddie, lips swollen, chest rising with quick, but still even breaths. Eddie immediately leaned back in to kiss the corner of his mouth again, trying to ease the sudden spike of tension.

Another voice came, quiet but steady. Max, who had a new walkman at her hip in case Vecna decided to target her again. “Sometimes it’s only half an hour… Sometimes several hours. Depends on what things look like.”

His eyes fluttered shut, forehead dropping to Eddie’s collar. His breathing slowed like he was trying to wrestle himself calm again. Eddie wrapped him up tighter this time, chin resting on top of Steve’s head, one hand smoothing down his back.

They stayed like that for a beat, Steve pressing his face into Eddie’s shirt, drawing in slow breaths that smelled like leather, conditioner, and something uniquely Eddie.

Finally, reluctantly, he turned back around to the monitors, pulling slowly from Eddie’s hold.

On the screen, Eleven and Will were in the tank now. Wires trailed from them, electrodes stuck to their temples and chests. Both floated side by side in the dark water, blindfolds secured, hands clasped tight between them.

His heart jumped into a quicker rhythm, an instinctive surge of fear at the sight. But he didn’t spiral. Not this time. Eddie perched carefully on the arm of the chair, close enough that their sides touched, and threaded his fingers through Steve’s hair in a slow, soothing rhythm.

The panic lingered like a hum of static beneath his skin, a low thrumming current he couldn’t quite shake. Still there, still dangerous if he let it spiral, but manage now with Eddie’s hand combing gently through his hair and the steady warmth of his body pressed close. He leaned into him, cheek pressing against Eddie’s shoulder, the smallest sound of contentment slipping free as they sat in comfortable silence, eyes fixed on the monitors, ears tuned to the murmurs of the different groups.

They stayed like that for a long while, not feeling the need to move, to try and rejoin the others down the hall. Steve didn’t think he could even if he wanted to, being in the same room as that tank was-.. The simple closeness of Eddie right now was enough to hold his panic at bay, to keep him tethered to here and now.

Every so often, Eleven’s voice filtered faint and calm through the speakers, explaining what they saw. Demogorgons clustered in groups around the husk of Starcourt. Demodogs pacing in circles along the train tracks, their snarling echoing faintly into town. But no sight of One, Vecna, Henry. Not yet.

Each time she spoke up, Steve’s whole body tensed. Though every time she confirmed He was not around, he relaxed just a fraction, though his grip on Eddie would tighten for a beat longer, as if reassuring himself he still had something solid to cling to. Eddie always shifted closer in those moments, a warm hand sliding over his thigh.

Three hours dragged by before they knew it, but he still hadn’t appeared.

Then four.

Then five. His nerves stretched thin by now, taut as wire, because still. No. Vecna.

When Owens finally called it at the six hour mark, his calm voice pulling Will and Eleven back with slow, careful instruction. Steve’s relief was sharp enough to leave him dizzy. They watched on the monitors as the kids reached up, removing their blindfolds and were guided out of the water, blinking against the harsh lab lights. Soldiers moved in the background, tense but alert, maintaining their positions.

Owens asked Eleven and Will for a final recount of what they saw before coming out of it. It was night now, the monsters outside were growing restless, getting hungry, almost impatient. His stomach knotted at the words, but he listened intensely as Eleven continued.

So far, the town held. One or two monsters have slipped past the gaps in soldiers, but are being “dispatched” and their positions tightened. She used the word like repeating something she’d heard ordered. But overall the perimeter was holding. The cracks through town were lined with defences, it was safe for now. Will cut in almost dryly, commenting that it was as safe as it could be with the Upside Down running through it.

Both confirmed again, no sighting of Vecna, One, Henry.

Each word lodged like ice in his chest, claws pressing tight through Eddie’s jeans as he gripped his thigh, sharper than he meant to. Eddie didn’t flinch, just covered Steve’s hand with his own and pressed down firmly, a silent reassurance.

When Eleven and Will disappeared to change out of their wet suits, he finally shifted, sitting up straighter. His spine cracked as he rolled his shoulders back, trying to shake off the stiffness of hours hunched in the chair. Slowly, he turned to Eddie, quiet enough that no microphone or person could pick up.

“Is it..” His voice cracked, dry as he licked over his lips. “Should we.. Do we.. Go back to Doc? Or.. Or stay with all of them?”

Eddie leaned into the back of the chair, his hand never leaving Steve’s hair, the strands soft between his fingers. He hummed low, thoughtful. “Personally?.. Thinking about the Upside Down again makes me want to.. Hurl is a good word. It’s terrifying to be honest, I mean.. I died there but… But.. Accidentally leading all that back to Doc? To the one place we’re actually safe?” He gave a halfhearted shrug. “Think it’s probably best we stay with everyone else. Safer in number and all that, yeah?”

He closed his eyes as he leaned into Eddie’s touch, letting out a quiet hum of agreement. “Yeah… Okay..”

Eddie hesitated, then started softly, “Do you want to talk about-”

“No.” His answer came immediate, almost sharp. Drawing in a deep uneven breath as he shook his head. “No, not really.” He slumped back in the chair, running a hand over his face. “To be honest… Eddie I.. I don’t even know why I freaked out. I…” His lashes fluttered, and he glanced up through them, the barest flick of his eyes. “I don’t know why I panicked. I don’t know why that thing- why the sight of it- made me freak out. It just.. Did.”

Eddie’s chest ached. “Oh, Stevie.” His voice was soft, warm, his hand moving down to cup the back of Steve’s neck. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “It’s alright. Sometimes a fear’s just a fear. Doesn’t matter why, doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with you. I’m not accusing you or asking you to explain it to me, sweetheart. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t carrying it all by yourself again is all.”

His shoulders slumped, his body folding into the touch, into the words. He hummed again, softer this time, and whispered, “I know. I just.. Thank you.. For being here.”

Eddie smiled faintly, brushing his thumb along the nape of Steve’s neck. “Nowhere else I’d be, Stevie.” His tone was steady, almost light now. Then, with a grin, “Hell, you can literally feel my feelings. You already know how gone I am for you.”

Steve let out a soft laugh, a little rough around the edges, but real. Eddie tilted his chin until he could meet his eyes, grin widening as he whispered, “I’m quite literally obsessed with you, Steve Harrington.”

His lips twitched into a small, helpless smile. He leaned up to chase the kiss Eddie pressed against his mouth, catching him again for one more soft pull. His voice was barely above a breath when he answered, “Mm. I’m quite literally obsessed with you too, Edward Munson.”

They didn’t say the words. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time. But the bond thrummed between them all the same, warm and steady, filling in every space where words failed them.

---

They moved carefully, taking the longer route they’d been told about through the sterile hallways to avoid even getting near the tank. Eddie hovered close, his hand always within Steve’s reach. They were making their way to meet up with the rest of their group in the "debriefing room” as one of the soldiers called it.

It took several long, tense minutes, but they’d finally reached the obviously large doors to the meeting room. The air felt different- still tense, but muted now, like everyone was trying to keep their voices low after the hours of yelling over one another.

The moment the doors opened, conversations thinned to silence. All eyes lifted toward them. Toward Steve.

The long table in the middle of the room was cluttered: scattered notes, radios, bottles of water, and -bless whoever thought of it- snacks. At the far end, two mugs of blood sat steaming, fresh and human, the scent curling sharp into their senses.

Dustin was the first to move. He bolted forward so fast his sneakers squeaked on the floor, and before Steve could brace himself, the kid flung his arms around him. Dustin clung hard, his shoulders shaking with the kind of contained emotion Steve had only seen on him once before, after Eddie…

“Are… Are you okay?” Dustin’s voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

His throat tightened, but he folded down, chin resting gently on the mop of curls and wrapped him in tight. His arms locked around Dustin in that automatic, protective way he had missed, squeezing like maybe he could keep all of this away from him. “Yeah, kiddo.. I’m alright.” He swallowed thickly, lifting his gaze just enough to sweep the room. “I’m alright, guys. Just.. Had a moment is all. But I’m good now.”

Robin let out a shaky exhale, biting her nails with nerves. Max tilted her head, watching him sharp-eyed like she didn’t quite believe him. Lucas’s shoulders sagged in visible relief. Erica crossed her arms but didn’t look away from him, her jaw set tight.

“Good.” Dustin muttered, muffled against his shirt, before he slowly let go. His eyes darting up, red rimmed as he scrubbed at them. “Don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

He gave a wry smile and mussed his curls, just like he used to. “I’ll do my best.”

They drifted further inside, Eddie at his side, guiding him toward the end of the table where their mugs waited. The smell was too tempting to ignore, and Eddie nudged one toward him with a quiet look. He rolled his eyes playfully, letting his fingers brush the warmth of it before lifting it to his lips, drinking slow. The taste hit heavy on his tongue- copper and heat, but there was a sour taste of lingering fear still in it. Eddie gave a faint, unnoticeable to others, grimace as he drank from his own, watching him over the rum of his mug.

The others slowly picked back up where they’d left off. Voices rose and fell in pockets- Nancy and Jonathan muttering low with Will leaning close beside them, Hopper and Joyce conferring with Wayne and Murray, the rest of the kids gathered in their own cluster, bouncing theories and worries back and forth.

Steve let the sound wash over him, not sharp like before, just a pleasant background noise. Still, the machines humming through the walls prickled at the back of his skull, the sterile tang of the air digging at his nerves.

-Lab doesn’t feel safe.- He thought, sharp and low across the bond. His fingers tapped once against the mug, restless. -Too many machines, too many eyes. Can’t breathe in here.-

Eddie shifted closer, his hand sliding over Steve’s thigh beneath the table, thumb stroking lazy reassurance. ‘I know. I hate it too. But cabin’s not gonna be much better right now. Locked away with just Doc.’

His gaze flicked up to him. Eddie’s expression was calm, but the bond carried the undercurrent of his unease, sharp and restless.

‘What if we lead something back there?’ Eddie’s thought pushed hard, edges with that blunt fear he didn’t bother to hide, not from Steve. ‘Or someone. Owens, his people- they’re crawling all over town. A soldier, even the.. Someone from there. If they trail us, we and Doc are all done for.’

His jaw clenched, so he sipped from his mug again, slowly, eyes distant. -Safer here then? Even if it feels like I’m back in…- He cut off, the bond catching the rough spike of panic before he pulled it back down.

Eddie’s hand squeezed his thigh again, blunt nails digging in. ‘Not safer. Just… Less risk to anyone else. That’s all. At least if we’re here, so is everyone else. No way a goon from the lab can nab us.’

They sat with that, quietly, their hands brushing beneath the table, their bond thrumming heavy with indecision.

The door opened again. Owens entering, looking drawn but collected, a folder tucked beneath his arm. He moved to the front of the table, clearing his throat until the room stilled.

“We’ve started setting up this building as more of a permanent base of operations,” he started, voice even but carrying the weight of authority. “Communications, supplies, sleeping quarters if necessary. And you’ll all have space here. Cots, food, whatever else you may need.” His gaze swept over the group, lingering briefly on Steve and Eddie before moving on.

“This isn’t temporary anymore. The gates have ripped open and don’t seem to have a way to close. We need to be ready for the long haul.. Especially since One still has not made an appearance.”

The words sat heavy in the silence that followed. No one moved for a long moment as it sank in.

His heart lurched. But Eddie caught it the instant the bond hummed sharply, giving his thigh a quick squeeze. -Base of operations.- He repeated bitterly. -Means being stuck here. Maybe forced to stay in this place, not allowed out… Kept locked away.-

‘Yeah.’ Eddie’s thoughts came gentle, calm, his grip staying tight beneath the table. ‘But it also means the gates stay covered instead of following us, soldiers taking the heat instead of us.. And we don’t bring a goddamn thing back to Doc… It also means everyone else is safe.. Stuck here too, sure, but we wouldn’t be alone.’

Steve shut his eyes for a second, the hand around his mug clenching tightly, causing the ceramic to whine in protest. He didn’t know which was worse right now.

The conversations around them picked back up, the room buzzing alive with speculations once Owens finished speaking. Neither he nor Eddie joined in.

Joyce leaned forward with her hands spread flat on the table, her voice calm but firm as she asked about food supplies and how long they’d be able to last. Hopper cut in with questions about security measures. Murray scribbled notes furiously, muttering under his breath about strategies.

Everyone else had already moved into a large clutter, their voices tumbling over one another- Lucas trying to ask about perimeter defences, Mike demanding to know if they’d be able to get back into town to check on their families, Erica rolling her eyes but listening sharp. Robin attempting to get them all to listen to reason.

It was chaos, the familiar kind that came with the Upside Down- every voice tugging in a different direction.

And he and Eddie… Sat in silence.

Or at least that’s what it looked like.

Eddie had turned his chair just enough that his thigh pressed firmly against Steve’s, knees brushing, fingers dancing over one another beneath the table almost playful. Their mugs sat mostly forgotten, faint wisps of steam curling into the air.

‘Sooo..’ Eddie thought, the bond carrying the lazy drawl of his words. ‘What’s the verdict, Harrington? Stay in Creepsville Lab, or head back to the Fortress of Solitude?’

He gave him a look, brow lifting, the corners of his mouth twitching. He let his head tip minutely to the side as if weighing the thought. -Neither really sounds great.- He admitted after a beat. The words traveled between them heavily, flat. -Lab feels like I’m back in a cage. Bunker feels like putting everything we’ve got in danger.-

Eddie’s mouth quirked- half smile half grimace. He lifted his mug, masking the motions as a casual sip, though he grimaced at the taste again. But Steve felt the thought push through the bond, sharp and hot: ‘Not much of a choice is there? Either choke down the lab, or risk everyone’s neck.’

His eyes flicked down, lashes lowering. He rubbed his thumb absently over the side of his mug, but he didn’t speak. Though Eddie felt it, the brush of guilt in his chest.

‘Hey.’ Eddie shifted, knee nudging firmer against Steve’s. ‘Don’t start with that. This isn’t on you.’

He exhaled, a faint huff, but his lips pinched together, gaze sliding sideways to Eddie. His brow lifted faintly again, like he was about to argue. But Eddie just gave him a look right back, eyebrows shooting up in mock challenge. Steve’s mouth curved- not a smile, not really, but something softer.

The bond hummed between them, alive, each wordless flicker caught in raised brows, twitching mouths, the faintest shake of a head. They didn’t even notice the way the room’s noise swelled, the open debates spilling louder and louder around them.

Robin glanced once at them from across the room, eyes narrowing faintly at the way they weren’t adding a single word to the discussion. Dustin followed her look, then frowned, watching the silence exchange like he could hear the words if he tried hard enough.

But it was Wayne who moved to interrupt them, quietly sliding into the seat beside Eddie. He’d watched the way his boy leaned in, how Steve mirrored the tilt, how they both slipped into their strange, silent conversations. He saw every twitch of a brow, every subtle twist of a mouth, every shift of shoulders like they were speaking their own language no one else was privy to.

Wayne let out a quiet huff through his nose. Not angry- just exasperated at everything around them, this, it was like watching two kids whisper at church. He shook his head faintly, he couldn’t say he wasn’t honestly glad they had each other. Because watching them like this was like watching art come to life, and he is glad that no matter what, they have each other. So after watching them for a minute longer, he leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. Loudly.

Both Steve and Eddie jolted.

Eddie’s mug nearly tipped, Steve’s hand flying up to catch it before it could spill. Their heads snapped up in tandem, wide eyes blinking, like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Wayne arched his brow, expression perfectly dry. “Glad y’er feelin’ better and you two are havin’ a whole conversation no one else can hear.” He drawled, voice low but carrying. “Mind rejoining the rest of us mortals?”

Heat flared across Steve’s cheeks, Eddie coughed into his fist, eyes darting away. They’d been so locked into each other, so wrapped up in the warmth of the bond humming between them, they hadn’t even registered how close Wayne had leaned in.

Robin snorted across the room, unable to help herself. Dustin muttered something along the lines of “figures.” Will smirked faintly behind his hand.

Eddie cleared his throat, sitting up straighter, shoulders rolling back as if that could erase the way his knee was still pressing firmly against Steve’s. Steve shifted in his chair, running a hand through his hair with a sheepish look. He actually looked around the room now, everyone was watching them.

Slowly the room came back alive again, voices bounding from one end of the table to the other- questions, strategies, half-baked plans tossed out and swatted down just as quickly. He tried to focus, he really did. But the bond was a comforting warmth beneath his skin, steady, like a secret heartbeat only the two of them could hear. Eddie’s pulse brushed against his own like the back of a hand running down his spine, a comfort he leaned on more than he wanted to admit.

He thought maybe the slip had gone unnoticed. Maybe Wayne’s pointed comments had been enough to brush them back into the room and everyone else would just let it slide.

But Owens had been watching.

The man stood at the head of the table, arms folded, gaze drifting from one conversation to another as questions flew around. When his eyes finally landed on Steve and Eddie- still close, still quiet- he lingered.

“Alright.” Owens said suddenly, cutting through the noise with surprising calm. His voice dropped the room back into order. “I’ve heard plenty of concerns. Plenty of suggestions. But what I haven’t heard, is anything from you two yet.”

His head snapped up. Eddie’s followed, lips twitching like he wanted to joke but thought better of it.

Owens didn’t look away. “You’ve been through more than most. You know the dangers as much, if not more than anyone. Mr. Munson has been intimately involved with the Upside Down. So.. What do you think? Should you all stay here? Or risk going back into town?”

His throat went dry as he tried to swallow around a sudden lump. He opened his mouth, then shut it, eyes darting briefly to Eddie. The bond fluttered like a spark. -He’s serious. He wants to know what we think…-

‘Yeah...’ Eddie drawled, like he was unsure of what to make of it, mouth twitching like he wanted to grin but couldn’t manage it. ‘Guess playtime’s over, sweetheart.’

Steve exhaled heavily through his nose, straightening in his chair. “I..” His voice scraped raw, catching half the room’s attention. He cleared his throat, taking a sip from his mug to force it steadier. “I don’t know. Staying here has… Advantages. You’ve got the soldiers, the tech. But…” His jaw locked, eyes flickering toward the floor. “The lab isn’t exactly.. A great place. Not for me.”

Robin’s gaze softened, her lips pressing tight. Dustin leaned forward like he wanted to reach out again, but held back, watching.

Eddie shifted beside him, finally leaning in with his usual bravado- but his voice came out firm. “Not a great place for me either… We’re not exactly thrilled about hiding out here. Too many eyes. Too many machines. Easy for someone to slip back and tell… Brenner-” He practically spat the name. “-where we are, even if you swear he isn’t going to be allowed back here.” He drummed his fingers lightly against the table, then stilled them purposefully.

“But our other option? Going back? Not exactly a safe gamble, either. If anything catches our scent.. I’ve been told they tried to get supergirl before. So if we’re wrong, if anything follows us…” He shook his head. “We’re not just putting ourselves in danger but others too. That’s not happening.”

Owens nodded once, gaze sharpening, but it was Hopper who leaned forward next. His hand pressing flat to the table, voice low. “So.. What you’re saying is, neither’s good. But you’d rather us all stay here than risk bringing anything else into town?”

Steve swallowed, meeting Hopper’s eyes. His hand tightened against Eddie’s on his thigh, grip tight enough to grind bone. “..Yeah.” He forced the word out, quiet but clear. “That’s exactly what we’re saying.”

For a long moment, the room was quiet. Everyone’s eyes seemed to be on them again, the weight of everything pressing like a spotlight.

And then Wayne leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. He gave a single, quiet nod, like he’d been waiting for them to say it out loud. “That’s probably the right call.” His tone was steady as he reached to give both their shoulders a rough pat.

His shoulders ease just the faintest bit. The bond hummed warmer, Eddie’s quiet pride flowing across it like sunlight breaking through heavy clouds. It helped him ease his grip back, fingers tracing over Eddie’s in silent apology.

Owens gave a single slap of his hands, brisk. “Alright. Then it’s settled. We’ll make room here. Security teams will rotate shifts. Sleeping arrangements will be assigned once we set it all up. You’ll all stay together of course.”

The group erupted once again with new questions, new concerns, but Steve barely heard them. His hand stayed on Eddie’s away from prying eyes, soaking in the feeling of the bond spreading through him.

---

Owens had managed to get them a space that at least looked like it was meant for people rather than test subjects. A large open room, lined with cots, curtains pulled around each bed to grant the illusion of privacy. The fluorescent lights hummed faintly above them, still cold and sterile, but Owens had done what he could.

He’d even offered Steve his old room from all those years ago, a place buried in his memories like a bruise that hadn’t healed. Steve didn’t even have to think about it- his chest locked up the moment Owens mentioned it. He wanted no part of that room, no part of the ghosts still in it, of the way it mirrored the one he was locked in for so long.

So instead, he and Eddie dragged two of the cots together, shoving them until the metal frames groaned in protest, helping Joyce and Hopper do the same. Eddie made a whole show of it, grunting exaggeratedly, joking to him quietly about how they should “christen their new king-sized cot.” While Steve just gave him a flat look and tried not to laugh with Hopper and Joyce watching them.

Dinner had been simple, MRE’s. Plastic packets of food that barely qualified a full meal to him. But it was far enough away from the cold trays of slop their lab had given them, something they were both thankful for. Still, compared to the unknown slop or raw meat, the chicken and rice in a bag tasted almost gourmet. He and Eddie ate without complaint, even if the smell was enough to make Steve wrinkle his nose. The kids, of course, found plenty to complain about.

“Looks like dog food.”
“Tastes worse.”
“Pretty sure this one is just cardboard with hot sauce.”
“How do they eat this stuff?”

That one was asked while staring at him and Eddie, who in turn just simultaneously took another bite. But they’d tuned the rest of it out with the ease of someone who’d learned long ago that sometimes the best way to deal with those kids was just to let them burn themselves out.

Now, everyone had changed into the spare clothes the lab provided- plain black shirts, grey sweatpants. Uniformity. Easier for scientists to look at them as pieces in a puzzle rather than individual lives. -No. Nope. Bad thought. Stop it.- To be honest, he didn’t care what they were wearing, he was just grateful it wasn’t a hospital gown. He’d seen enough of those to last a lifetime. He’d worn too many of those.

The kids were now clustered together at Eleven’s bed, voices low but it still echoed back to him and Eddie. They were planning, whispering about how they’d handle Vecna if- when- he came back. They tossed ideas around like they were drawing up strategies for a board game, hopeful, certain they’d come out the other side if they just tried hard enough.

He closed his eyes for a moment and just listened, but the words grated against him. Maybe he was too tired, too jaded. Maybe he’d lived through too much and lost too much to believe in easy victories anymore. He envied them, in a way. He missed that kind of hope.

He sighed and laid back onto their bed, folding his arms behind his head. The mattress was thin, the springs he could feel digging into his back, but it was still better than cold stone or metal tables.

Eddie sat cross-legged beside him, gaze drifting toward Wayne and Hopper who stood at a table, heads bent over a thick folder Owens had dropped off. They were murmuring in low tones about the pages inside- pages full of One, his history, his actions. Across the room, having separated from them Joyce sat with Murray, both of them quiet now, their earlier conversation about the military presence in all this hanging over them as they mused it over.

Eventually, Eddie turned back, eyes softening the moment they landed on Steve. He reached out, dragging his hand lazily up the sheets until his palm slid up, pressing over Steve’s chest. His thumb brushed lazy circles over the fabric of his shirt.

‘Hey, sweetheart?’ His voice whispered across the bond, soft and coaxing. ‘What’s on your mind?’

He cracked one eye open, tilting his head just enough to catch Eddie’s look. He moved his hand back down, catching Eddie’s fingers where they sprawled across his heart, giving them a slow playful wiggle. -Just.. Uncomfortable is all. Tryin’ not to think about it.-

Eddie’s lips curved into an amused smirk. His eyebrows wiggled as though Steve had just handed him an opening on a silver platter. ‘I could give you something else to think about.’

He huffed softly, rolling his eyes, but unable to fight the smile tugging at his lips. He caught Eddie’s hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before letting it fall back against his chest. -You’re an idiot.. I’m not sleeping with you with everyone else in the same friggin’. Absolutely not.-

‘Oh, Stevie.’ Eddie leaned down, conspiratorial, his voice pitching lower, teasing. His fingers walked their way down Steve’s sternum to his stomach in playful little steps. ‘I’m not suicidal. Hopper or Wayne would kill me before I even got your pants off. I was merely suggesting…’ He dipped his head, lips ghosting close to Steve’s ear, warm breath making him shiver as he said aloud, too quiet for anyone else to hear. “That you let me kiss that pretty little frown away.”

His chest rose and fell with a slow breath. He tilted his head just enough to meet Eddie’s eyes, the amusement glimmering there impossible to ignore. A hum rolled lazily through the bond, as though he were pretending to weigh the offer like it was serious business. -..I mean.. It’s a tempting offer.- His mouth curved into something sharper, playful. -I do enjoy feeling your tongue down my throat.-

The reaction he’d hoped for was immediate. Eddie froze for half a second, eyes darling, mouth parting with the beginnings of a growl. Then the sound actually slipped out- low, vibrating in his chest as he leaned in, nose brushing against Steve’s cheek. ‘Sweetheart.’ He murmured rough with heat, the word echoing between them before he continued. ‘Don’t try and tease me right now. It won’t end well for you.’

Steve barely managed to hold back the snort that pushed its way up his throat, lips twitching as his chest shook with quiet laughter, self-satisfied, like he’d just won a game Eddie hadn’t even realized they were playing. Eddie’s glare wasn’t much of a glare- more like fire simmering under the surface, eyes alight with a mix of challenge and promise.

He tilted his head back against one of the pillows, arm still tucked behind it lazily as though he weren’t being stared down by a predator. -Guess I’ll have to risk it then.- He pushed it through the bond with a deliberately slow drawl, smirking when Eddie’s pupils flared wide, the connection vibrating with restrained hunger.

Eddie shoved a hand down against the mattress on either side of Steve, leaning over him until their foreheads brushed, curls slipping forward to tickle Steve’s cheeks. ‘God, you’re asking for trouble.’ He muttered, lips already pressing against Steve’s in a quick, sharp kiss that tasted like frustration and longing all tangled together.

He hummed into the kiss, entirely too pleased with him, and Eddie pulled back only long enough to shoot him a mock glare, a huff sharp and low in his chest like he was two seconds away from snapping. Instead, he clicked his tongue and abruptly straightened, smirk curling at his lips. “You’re a menace.” He muttered, just loud enough for Steve’s sharp ears.

Then, he slowly pushed himself up, stretching like a cat, jaw set in that cocky little smirk that drove Steve crazy.

Before he could respond, Eddie pushed to his feet. He blinked after him, confusion flickering before realization set in when Eddie made his way across the room toward Wayne. He leaned casually with a hip against the table, murmuring something low, pitched for Wayne and hopper- but the words carried in the hush of the large space.

“Gonna tuck in, old man. Stevie’s drained.” His eyes flicked briefly back toward the bed, something protective curling in his posture. “We’re both gonna try and get some rest.. If we can.”

Wayne glanced at Eddie then to Steve across the room, assessing in that slow, steady way of his. Then his eyes softened into quiet understanding. “Alright, good idea.” He clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Night, Eds.”

That was all it took. The kids- still huddled around Eleven and Will- looked over. Dustin was first, head whipping around. “Goodnight, Steve! Night, Eddie!”

Lucas followed, quieter but just as earnest. “Yeah.. Goodnight.”

Max, fiddling nervously with the edge of her blanket, muttered, “Don’t wake us with nightmares.” But there was no bite to it, only something fragile that she was trying to disguise.

Even Mike- awkward, fidgeting Mike- gave them a quiet, “Goodnight.”

The warmth pressed in on Steve unexpectedly, catching him off guard as one by one the others followed suit, a chorus of quiet “goodnights” rippling out. He swallowed around the tightness in his throat and gave them a tired half-smile, lifting a hand in a small wave, though his gaze kept flickering back to Eddie.

Eddie, though, gave a small flourish with his hand, throwing it over his stomach as he bowed dramatically forward, as if bowing out of a performance. “Sweet dreams, gremlins. No eating after midnight!” Then he was striding back. With a swift pull he dragged the curtains shut with a quiet swish that left them in their own little world. The noise of the others slowly dying down into hushed tones, letting them relax.

Eddie didn’t waste a second, but he didn’t just climb onto the beds either- he prowled. Crawling up with a deliberate slowness on his hands and knees almost predatory, like he was savoring every inch between them, gaze locked on Steve like a challenge. The mattresses dipped under his weight as he closed the distance, but Steve barely noticed. His eyes tracking Eddie’s every move, caught between anticipation and want.

When Eddie reached him, he was straddling Steve’s lap, knees bracketing his hips, hands pressing against Steve’s chest. He leaned down, curls falling to curtain them both, and a low nearly inaudible growl rumbled in his throat as his lips crashed against Steve’s.

The kiss wasn’t teasing. It was hungry, deep, Eddie’s lips moving against his with a desperation that made his pulse stutter. His hands shot up instinctively, one gripping Eddie’s hip, the other fisting in the back of his shirt, tugging him down, closer.

Eddie kissed like a man starved, like every second was borrowed time. His tongue swept against Steve’s, demanding and rough, and he let out a quiet, broken sound that Eddie swallowed down like it belonged to him.

The metal beneath them creaked as he shifted, bracing both feet against the mattress to push up into Eddie’s weight. Eddie let out a sharp breath against his lips, almost a laugh, almost a gasp, as then he was kissing harder, deeper, like he couldn’t get close enough.

Teeth clashed as tongues tangled, hot and insistent. Eddie pressed closer, chests flush, the weight of him grounding and overwhelming all at once. He let himself drown in it, let Eddie chase his mouth with reverish precision.

He tilted his head back, tugging on Eddie’s shirt so he followed. They lost themselves in it, lips dragging, mouths parting only to crash back together again with more of that quiet urgency.

Eventually, Eddie broke just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Gonna ruin you, Harrington.”

He laughed, quiet, breathless, chasing his lips immediately. -You’ve been trying, Munson.-

That earned him another low growl, and Eddie suddenly shifted, sliding off Steve’s lap with ease. But their lips never parted, Eddie keeping the insistent, unrelenting pace. They adjusted until they were laying on their sides, pressed tight, bodies aligned.

This angle was slower but no less consuming.

One of Eddie’s hands roamed under his shirt, calloused fingertips grazing his stomach, tracing rough but careful over his ribs, hip, his side, leaving a trail of heat clenching in his gut. His nails scraped lightly up Steve’s side, blunt but teasing enough to send shivers racing through him. He arched faintly into the touch, a small sound breaking in his throat that was quickly swallowed by Eddie, who smiled into the kiss, pleased with the reaction.

Around them, the noise began to soften. Curtains pulsed closed one by one, quiet conversations dwindling to murmurs and then to nothing at all. The steady hum of heartbeats, the faint rustle of sheets, the lab’s air system whirring- all faded into the background as the world shrank until it was just their breathing, their kisses, the feel of each other in the dark.

For Steve, there was only Eddie.

They didn’t stop until the overhead light clicked off with a sharp and sudden pop, throwing the room into shadows. Then several emergency lights around the walls quietly clicked on. Only then, did Steve break away, panting softly, his forehead pressed to Eddie’s.

Eddie’s hand lingered under his shirt, palm flat against his hip. Nails dragging one more time across the sensitive skin of Steve’s side, slowly, just shy of sharp. He shivered again, biting down on a quiet groan, and Eddie’s grin went sharp and wicked in the darkness.

‘God, I love when you do that.’ Even Eddie’s thoughts were hoarse as his lips brushed against Steve’s jaw. The bond pulsing warm between them as he moved up, lips brushing Steve’s cheek once more, whispering aloud now, low and wrecked. “There’s my pretty boy.”

He just exhaled, shaky but content, finally letting himself sink back into the mattresses, happily tangled with Eddie, letting the weight of the world fade for just a little while. “Thank you.. For that.. Needed it.” He whispered softly, letting his fingers curl back into the front of Eddie’s shirt like he wasn’t yet ready to let go.

Eddie’s chest rose in a slow breath, the faintest hum reverberating against Steve’s cheek as he settled leaned up. His curls brushed at Steve’s cheek as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss against his forehead, letting it linger. “Don’t even have to thank me,” he murmured, voice still rough but stripped of the teasing edge. “That’s just.. What I do. What I wanna do, always wanna kiss you, Stevie.”

He swallowed down the sudden tightness in his throat, warmth pooling in his chest, the kind that was almost too much to sit with. He turned slightly, nose brushing against Eddie’s throat, and let his eyes slip shut, just breathing him in.

The room was quiet now, most curtains drawn, the only sounds a distant shuffle as someone adjusted in bed, or a muffled cough. The hum of the fluorescents had been cut, leaving the space hushed and dim, and for once it felt like the world outside wasn’t clawing at their heels.

Eddie shifted just enough to reach down, tugging at the blankets bunched near their feet. He pulled them up with an almost comical determination, wrestling them loose from where they were caught between the beds until finally he could drape it over them both. He tucked them in snug, cocooning them, then immediately slid his arm back around Steve like he couldn’t stand the brief separation.

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, low in his throat, feeling the vibration of Eddie’s restless little grumble. “You good now? Blanket wars over?”

Eddie tipped his head back, flashing a grin down at him that was more tired than usual, but still full of that spark. “Yeah, well.. Gotta make sure you don’t catch a chill my dear Harrington. Fragile little thing like you.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t bother replying, only shifted closer. Pressing himself into Eddie’s side until they together naturally, like puzzle pieces that had been snapped into place one too many times to ever split apart.

Eddie adjusted with him automatically, one hand flattening over Steve’s back, fingers spread wide like he was trying to cover as much of him as possible. His other arm curled around Steve’s hip. Every few breaths, his thumb would rub slow, absentminded circles just above his hip bone.

The intimacy of it made his throat tighten. He let his hand slip under Eddie’s shirt, resting flat against the warm plane of his stomach, his other curling into the side of his shirt. He no longer felt the itching ache to let his claws out, just letting blunt nails press finally against skin, careful, reverent.

The bond hummed softly, not with words this time, just sensation- comfort bleeding into comfort, warmth flooding into warmth until it was impossible to tell whose feelings were whose.

He let out a slow breath, head dropping until his forehead nudged against Eddie’s jaw. “You’re not gonna sleep, are you?” He whispered, catching the restless hum still echoing in Eddie’s chest.

“Nah.” Eddie admitted, voice quiet but steady. He tilted his head to press his lips against the crown of Steve’s hair, letting his chin rest there, keeping him tucked close. “Don’t need to, really. But you do. And I’m not moving ‘til mornin’.”

His mouth twisted into a faint smile against his throat. “Bossy.”

“Damn right.” His hands on Steve’s back softened, thumb trapping once, twice, like he couldn’t help it. “Somebody’s gotta keep you in one piece.”

The words shouldn’t have put him at ease, but they did. Steve felt his muscles loosening ever so slowly, the ache of the day pulling him further under. His breathing came slower now, softer, syncing with the barely there rhythm of Eddie’s heart under his cheek.

As the silence deepened around them, Eddie kept his touches constant, almost ritualistic- his thumb smoothing circles over Steve’s hip, his fingers combing through the hair at his nape, the press of his palm against his shoulder moving slowly over his back. Each small movement said I’m here, I’ve got you, without ever needing to be spoken.

As his body grew heavier, his grip on Eddie’s shirt loosened but never fully let go. His last coherent thought, as sleep crept up at last, was that Eddie’s chest had become his favorite place to rest, his favorite anchor in the storm they called their lives.

-’M, me.. M’alica?- He weakly pressed through the bond as sleep was dragging him down.

Eddie let out a soft huff, used to it by now. A soft hum started in his chest, he didn’t need the words to know what Steve wanted. Master of Puppets slowly vibrating through his chest as he hummed quietly between them.

And Eddie, wide awake in the dark, let him drift in his arms, holding him exactly the way Steve needed- close, steady, unshakeable- like he was guarding something previous.

---

They’d waited in the lab for three weeks.

It was beginning to drive him crazy.

-Can you even drive someone who’s crazy, crazy? Is that just crazy squared? Or.. Maybe I’m going crazier?- Steve muttered through the bond one evening, sprawled out on one side of the cots, staring up at the ceiling tiles like they’d start spelling out answers if he just stared hard enough.

Eddie, next to him on the other mattress, lifted his hand in a lazy wave. ‘Yep. This is it. This is the moment. Harrington’s finally snapped.’

He turned his head just enough to glare, though it lacked any real bite. Eddie grinned wolfishly, clearly delighted to be the recipient of his annoyance, and tossed a balled-up sock across the inch of space between them. He caught it without looking, but half a second too slow, letting it fall to the sheets beside him.

The same sullen rhythm had carried on for days. Soldiers came and went. Radios crackled with clipped orders. Doors hissed open and shut in the distance, boots scuffed concrete, rifles clattered against desks. The sterile fluorescent hum never changed either. It was all beginning to blend together into one long, stretched out hour that had yet to end.

And still- not once- had Vecna shown himself.

“Maybe he’s dead.” Robin commented one boring afternoon, her voice carrying in the lull of conversation. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back against the leg of a table, eating chips with the kind of single-minded determination of someone trying to ignore the suffocating air around them.

Eleven, sitting slumped beside Will, let out a quiet noise that wasn’t quite agreement. She leaned heavily on his shoulder, her eyelids half-closed, her body drawn thin from hours in the tank that morning. Will wasn’t fairing much better.

“I’m just saying,” Robin continued, brushing crumbs from her lap, “maybe we really did kill him last time and.. I don’t know. It’s just his mutts running loose now?”

Steve rolled his eyes, reaching over to pluck a chip from Eddie’s bag before he could stop him. He popped it in his mouth smugly. “I don’t think we did, Robs. We didn’t even have a body.”

Robin frowned. “Yeah but.. Wait. Did Vecna even create the Demogorgons? Or, like.. Did he just walk in one day and go, ‘Hey guys, I’m here, obey me.’ and they all saluted?”

That dragged out a ripple of tense laughter from the group. It wasn’t much, but the sound was warm, a rare crack through the heaviness that had been pressing down on them for two days at that point. For a few minutes, it almost felt normal again.

Even Steve found himself laughing- quiet, breathless laughter- but the way Eddie’s eyes softened when he looked at him made the sound catch in his throat. Eddie kept looking at him like that now, like every little scrap of happiness Steve showed was something worth memorizing.

The mood didn’t hold though. It never did.

Because after the laughter faded, after the kids made a few more half-hearted jokes about Robin’s “saluting Demogorgon army” theory, the silence crept back in. The heaviness settled like fog. And he could feel it in his bones- the weariness, the waiting, the not knowing- all gnawing at him.

The speculation returned in quiet circles over the days to come. Maybe Robin was right and Vecna really was dead. Maybe he was too wounded to move. Maybe it was all just his remnants, his dogs and his vines, lashing out without a leader. But everything someone suggested, someone else countered.

“It’s been over four years.” Lucas pointed out once, voice sharp, eyes flicking down toward the floor. “If he was injured, he should’ve healed by now.”

And Steve tensed. He always froze up at the reminder. That he was gone for four years. Four years stolen, buried, locked away. His chest tightened, and Eddie’s hand inevitably brushed against his- sometimes openly, sometimes hidden in the folds of a blanket- grounding him back to reality.

It went on like that for days.

Then a week passed.

Then two.

The hope in the room thinned out the longer nothing but Demogorgon attacks and Demodog ambushes happened. And the walls of the lab- no matter how “accommodating” Owens tried to make it- started to close in. The cells “living quarters” may have been large, but they were no less a prison. Curtains and cots didn’t make it freedom.

He’d started pacing more often, restless energy sparking through his limbs. Eddie tried to tease him for it, called him a “caged little vampy” but his eyes followed Steve with quiet understanding.

Eddie himself had taken to shredding paper cuts or bending spoons just to keep his hands busy, claws twitching in and out when the silence dragged too long.

Through the bond, their thoughts brushed together constantly. Half jokes, little complaints, Eddie’s dramatics, Steve’s dry sarcasm, occasional flirts. They weren’t just trying to talk- they were trying to survive the weight of another lab.

And every night, when the lights clicked off and the kids curled behind their own curtains, Eddie always ended up curled around Steve. Sometimes they whispered. Sometimes they just held each other in silence, matching the rhythm of their breaths until sleep came. It wasn’t about hunger or heat or anything sharp. It was about being still, together, even in the cage of the lab.

But under it all, Steve could feel it- the patience of a predator, the kind that waisted just long enough before striking.

Vecna wasn’t gone. He couldn’t be… Could he?

And the longer the silence stretched, the more his chest ached with the certainty that when he finally did show.. It was going to be worse than anything they’d faced before.

---

Steve’s throat burned. It wasn’t fire, it was worse. Dry and raw and relentless, scraping down the back of his throat until his voice came out in a drawl before he could stop it, trying to keep his fangs at bay.

“Robin!” He snapped, sharper than he meant to, and the flash of hurt on her face gutted him instantly. His chest clenched tightly. “Rob.. Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-..” His voice cracked, words tumbling over themselves, useless. He scrubbed a hand down his face, shutting his eyes tight. “I’m sorry.”

He wanted to dig his claws into the wall, wanted to pace until his muscles burned, wanted to do something- anything- to drown out the gnawing thirst. But he held still, forcing his hands to stay empty, claws buried deep.

He was just so… Thirsty.

And Eddie was too. He could feel it thrumming between them, the quiet ache buried beneath Eddie’s usual chatter and warmth. They thought they’d been hiding it well, but the facade was slipping.

Owens was at his side in an instant, the ever present shadow of adults following him like a tide. “Mister…. Steve. Eddie.” His voice was careful, diplomatic, too clinical to pass for kind. Though it still threaded through. “Is it.. Do you two need more blood?”

The words landed heavy. The kids all froze mid-conversation, heads tilting toward them, cranning around one another to listen in. Curious. Worried. Wide-eyed.

Robin blinked, her hurt fading fast into understanding. Steve could see the shift in her shoulders, the small nod- he didn’t mean it, he’s just thirsty. Nancy followed with her own small nod, more businesslike, like it was just another fact they all needed to file away. -Keep the monsters fed.- Steve thought to himself.

He shook his head stubbornly. “No, I.. I’m fine. Sorry.”

Owens frowned and reached for his radio. “It’s alright. I can get you two some extra and-”

“No!” The word tore out of him too loud, too raw, echoing off the walls like a gunshot. He flinched back at his own volume, eyes squeezing shut as shame coursed through him. The taste of fear- not his, not Eddie’s, but theirs, the soldiers, Owens’s, but none of the kids- crept through the air, acrid and sour.

Then Eddie was there, hand on his shoulder, steady as always. He could feel the worry in him, sharp as static, but Eddie smoothed it down before it could spill out into panic.

“What uh.. Steve means to say is…” Eddie jumped in, voice forcibly lighter. “..No. We’re fine, thank you.” He gave Steve’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, fingers curling just long enough to keep him calm.

But now the room has gone quiet. Too quiet. The smell of WorryAnxietyStress permeating the air, pressing down heavily, everyone cluttered in closer now, watching.

“Eds? Steve?” Wayne’s voice broke through, soft and careful, worried as he inches closer, hands half-lifted as if uncertain.

Steve sucked in a sharp, deep breath, the growl slipping out low in his chest before he could swallow it back down. Owens stepped back instinctively. “Sorry.” He muttered, shame coiled tight in his gut.

Eddie leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, just for a moment. It was a quiet comfort, keeping him together. Then he pulled away, jaw tight, eyes flashing as he turned to Owens.

“What Steve was trying to say,” Eddie began, “is.. Thank you for the offer but-” He groaned, running a hand through his curls. “Sorry, but I can’t really be nice about this anymore, if he won’t say it. I will.”

He squared himself to Owens, meeting his eyes directly. “Listen, I appreciate you trying to get us human blood, I do, but it’s sour, off, rancid. I’d honestly rather be eating raw meat again than drink that. It’s so.. Overpowered with fear it’s just like.. Like… Like drinking rotten milk! Which, by the way, is not fun to do, thank you very much. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.”

Owens blinked at him, stunned, but Eddie wasn’t done. “Didn’t really know we could taste emotions like that, through blood, but it turns out. We can. Oh, feel free to not add that to your little research logs or whatever, thanks. But we can taste it, and it’s fucking awful.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Every eye on them, every breath held. Steve’s hand found Eddie’s, fingers sliding together, holding tight. That was enough to keep his own growl buried low in his chest.

The quiet stretched, and stretched, until Owens finally cleared his throat. “Well.. I.. Apologize. I had no idea. And I can assure you- my research is kept private. But, at your request,.. I’ll leave it out.” He hesitated, lips pressing thin before he continued. “Still… You two need to get something to drink. And as it stands, the only fearless blood available is in this room so-”

“NO!” The word thundered from both of them this time, in perfect unison, rattling through the air. The sheer force of it had everyone instinctively stepping back- not out of fear, but because the sound was too big for the space.

Owens exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration curling at the edges of his professionalism. “Be that as it may- you two must drink something. And at the moment, we have no animals on hand. And Steve had already informed me, making it very clear, that Demogorgon blood isn’t a viable option.”

The admission made the kids stir instantly, questions firing from every corner- “You tried that?” “What happened?” “Does it taste like-?”- before Nancy cut them off with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Her voice dropped low. “Wayne already told us.” That shut them up, though murmurs still drifted quietly between them.

Owens pressed on. “Which leaves us with… The only other option is…” He tilted his head, watching them with narrowed eyes. “Can you two drink from one another?” His brows shot up at the question.

Heat rushed to Steve’s face instantly. His grip on Eddie’s hand loosened in shock before tightening again, both of them turning away at the same time, cheeks faintly flushed. Eddie coughed into his fist. Steve rubbed at the back of his neck. Neither looked up.

“Ah,” Owens said, almost smug in his deduction. “I’ll take that as a yes. So, why don’t you two just-”

“Because..” Steve cut in quickly, words stumbling af he refused to meet his eye. “It’s uh… There’s a.. We have a-” He winced, flustered. “A complication.”

“Feedback loop.” Eddie muttered, eyes staying glued to the floor. “And it’s messy. And um.. Sometimes inappropriate.” He waved a vague hand, groaning softly at the admission. “So we.. Need somewhere private.”

“Oh! Oh, I see.” Owens blinked, then nodded, lips quivering like he couldn’t quite decide if he was amused or not. “Hmm.. Well, in that case, I suppose… Just a minute.” He turned sharply on his heels, disappearing out the door and down the hall, footsteps echoing.

It left them standing in the heavy silence, side by side, every pair of eyes still locked on them. Steve could feel the heat crawling up his neck, spreading faintly over his ears, the bond between them buzzing with equal parts mortification and the smallest, sharpest throat of humor Eddie couldn’t quite hide.

Neither of them dared to look at anyone else.

It was almost half an hour before Owens returned, the lines around his eyes deeper, like he’d wrestled with the logistics of his decision the whole time. He gave a small, firm nod to himself. “Alright. I’ve managed to get you two somewhere private. No cameras, no soldiers, complete privacy.”

“Oh.” The word slipped out of Steve’s lips before he could stop it- soft, uncertain, almost swallowed up. He glanced sideways at Eddie, eyes wide, surprised. Eddie blinked back at him, then nodded.

The tiny exchange seemed to loosen the hold the room had on itself. The kids drifted back into their chatter, Robin tossing Steve a quick grin like she’d known all along it would work out. Nancy’s sharp nod was more satisfied, like she’d solved a puzzle in her mind. Hopper crossed his arms but gave a slow nod of approval, while Joyce reached for Murray’s sleeve as if to settle her nerves. Even Wayne relaxed, expression unreadable but not disapproving.

“Um.. Alright.” Steve managed, voice low as he tightened his fingers against Eddie’s. Owens gestured for them to follow.

The walk was heavy through the hallways. The concrete seemed to echo louder with each step. Owens walked briskly ahead, his voice even but with an edge of forced practicality, like he was purposefully keeping this clinical. “Now.. Unfortunately there isn’t a lot of private space here, that’s not what it was designed for. But… My office seemed to work for you before. No one will hear what happens inside, should things.. As you said, become inappropriate. There are no cameras in there and I’ve arranged for a mattress and several pillows to be brought in. Towels as well. And the desks have been pushed aside.”

Steve blinked at him, heat sprinkling across the back of his neck. He felt like he was floating, like this wasn’t real. “Wait-”

Owens pressed on, as though sensing hesitation. “If you manage to ruin what’s left in there.. It’s no matter. I’ve had everything important moved out just in case. I can, most likely will, set up permanently in another office if it becomes necessary.”

He stared at Owens, wide-eyed, stunned. He couldn’t even form words. Besides him, Eddie’s brows drew together, confusion sharp in his eyes as his hand squeezed Steve’s tighter.

“I should have noticed you two had an issue with the blood earlier,” Owens sounded quiet now, edged with guilt. “That’s on me, and I apologize. I’ll work on securing a safer supply for you both. Until then, my office will remain available for your use. At any time.”

Steve’s face was burning now, hot from hairline to collarbone. He didn’t dare breathe. Eddie’s voice slipped sly into his mind, making it worse: ‘Is he giving us a free pass to fuck in his office?’

His body went rigid, face flaming. -Shut up.- He forced himself to speak aloud, throat tight. “Thank you.” He whispered, just loud enough for Owens to hear.

The doctor gave him a small nod and stopped before the heavy doors. He pressed a code into the keypad and pushed it open.

The office was still well lit, the overhead lights softer than the stark fluorescents of the hall. The soundproofing was immediate, the constant hum of the lab muffled as soon as the door shut behind them. It had him letting out a pleased sigh at the almost quiet.

His eyes landed on the mattress first. It was large, pressed neatly against the far wall, layered with blankets and pillows stacked in a haphazard pile. On a nearby table sat a neat stack of folded towels, their sterile white looking almost absurd in the otherwise grey and beige room. The desks had indeed been shoved aside, leaving the space oddly open, a blank kind of waiting.

Eddie let out a low whistle, leaning back on his heels as he surveyed the setup. “Well,” he drawled, voice carrying that dry humor meant to hide nerves, “someone went all out.”

Steve shot him a dry look, cheeks still on fire.

Owens didn’t react, only gestured toward the space. “I’ll leave you two here. When you’re finished, you may use the showers and return at your own pace. No one will disturb you. Ah.. The code to reenter is Zero Six Zero Eight.” His eyes lingered just long enough to make it clear this wasn’t a suggestion- it was a necessity. Then he stepped out, the heavy door thudding shut behind him, locks sliding into place.

The air was thick between them now. Steve exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. His chest was too tight again, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down, embarrassment clouding him as they’d practically openly admitted what happens in front of everyone.

Eddie nudged his shoulder, smirking faintly. “Well, sweetheart. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a vampire honeymoon suite.”

He groaned, dragging both hands down his face. -You’re impossible.-

‘Yeah.. But I made you smile.’ Eddie shot back, warmth threading through the bond as he tugged Steve gently toward the mattress.

He quickly looked around, scanning every corner, every shadow. But there was no tiny glint of a lens, no faint whirl of mechanics. Just stillness, a quiet emptiness. Just them. Only then did his shoulders finally relax, tension slipping free. He let Eddie tug him toward the bed, though the moment he went to sit, Eddie shoved at his shoulders with a grin.

He landed on his back with a muffled, oof, fangs he could no longer hold back, finally slipping free, sharp against his lip as he growled, pushing himself up onto his hands. “Ass.”

Eddie’s grin widened, his own fangs gleaming. “Why thank you, sweetheart. Though if we’re keeping score, I’ve never once complained about your ass.” He clutched a hand dramatically over his heart, gasping like the thought mortally wounded him.

Steve rolled his eyes, biting back a smile as Eddie crouched to tug off his shoes with infuriating care, fingers brushing his ankles like it was some grand performance. He leaned in closer then, curls falling forward as he gently slipped Steve’s sneakers off too. “Now Stevie.” He drawled, every word thick and lazy, like honey dripping from his tongue. “Here’s what’s gonna happen.”

He slowly crawled up the mattress, purposefully pressing Steve back down as he went. Eddie’s hands came to bracket his head on both sides, staring down at him with that wild, feral spark in his eyes.

“You’re gonna drink your fill of me,” Eddie whispered, lowering himself inch by inch, fangs grazing the curve of Steve’s jaw before sliding his lips up to his ear, “and then-” his voice dropped to a growl, “-I’m gonna sink my fangs into your pretty neck. And we both know how that gets you.. Us.”

He shuddered, breath catching.

Eddie’s hand slowly slid to the hollow of his throat, fingers tightening just enough to make Steve’s pulse jump under the touch. “But you’re going to be good for me,” he murmured, leaning down to let fangs scrape the tender skin there, “and hold still while I do.”

A whisper slipped out before he could stop it, neck arching back, baring himself in a wordless plea. “Eddie.” He whined, breathless, already trembling as Eddie gave another gentle squeeze, his eyes fluttering at the touch.

“Uh-uh, Stevie.” Eddie chided, and just as quick as it came, the hand moved off his neck, trailing up to tilt Steve’s chin back down, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Not yet. You drink first.” His expression hardened when Steve parted his lips to argue, but then softened as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to his mouth. “No arguments, sweetheart. Now c’mon, let's sit you up.”

He groaned, dragged along by Eddie’s insistence, until he found himself propped against the wall, pillow stuffed behind his back. Eddie slid easily into his lap, straddling him with a slow, purposeful wiggle that had Steve’s claws threatening to burst forth.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie tilted his head to the side, curls spilling over his shoulders, throat a long pale line. “Lunch time.” He joked. But Steve hesitated, biting down the hunger rising sharp in his chest. He didn’t move until Eddie’s hand threaded into his hair, tugging him forward gently.

The moment his lips brushed Eddie’s skin, instinct downed out hesitation. He inhaled sharply- the faint scent of blood rushing hot beneath Eddie’s pulse dizzying- and then he sank his fangs in with a broken groan.

The first pulled nearly undid him. Heat, copper, something bright, wild electricity flooding his mouth, burning down his throat and surging through every nerve. He whined against Eddie’s neck, clutched at his hips, desperate, holding him still as he swallowed greedily. Each pull wrung another shudder out of him, the taste intoxicating, the pleasure almost unbearable.

Eddie’s answering groan was guttural, raw, a sound that rattled from deep in his chest. His claws extended without thought, digging into Steve’s upper arms- not to hurt, but to hold him there, pinning him close. “S-Shit!... Stevie- fuck!” He hissed, head falling further back, eyes nearly rolling. His voice cracked on a breathless laugh, wrecked with pleasure. “Christ, forgot- fuck!- Forgot how- how good this feels.”

He whined against his neck, mouth pressing tighter, trying to sink his fangs deeper. Every gulp sent sparks racing through his nerves, spreading low and hot. The bond lit up sharp and searing between them, Eddie’s want and need spilling into him with every swallow. He could feel it reflected back in his own body- heat coiling low, hips grinding up helplessly against Eddie.

“Fuck, baby- don’t stop.” Eddie rasped, one hand flying back up to fist in Steve’s hair. He yanked tight, forcing him as close as possible, forcing him to keep drinking. The motion made Steve groan against his skin, the sound trembling through him.

His claws had slid free without noticing, scraping against Eddie’s waist, catching on his shirt and then dragging lower until they pressed sharp marks into his hips.

Eddie bucked at the sensation, a shiver racing through him a shiver racing down him as he let his own clawed hands roam, down Steve’s arms, over his sides, catching at the shirt over his ribs before sliding to his hips. He ground hard into him, the press of heat undeniable. “Y’feel that, sweetheart?” His voice was ragged, ruined with need, words rasped out between gasps. “That’s what you do to me- just.. Just drinking me down like that-”

Every swallow sent another surge of heat bursting through his veins, pooling low, tightening every muscle until he was shaking with it. He clutched Eddie tightly, one hand dragging back up, the other clawing tighter into his hip as he sucked greedily, utterly undone by the taste and heat. The words shrank to nothing but Eddie’s blood flooding his mouth and Eddie’s body pressing against him, grinding against his stomach like he needed this as much as Steve did.

When he finally tore back, gasping, his head swam. Lips, tongue and teeth all wet and stained red, but his eyes burned- because Eddie was staring down at him just as undone, chest heaving, pupils blown wide with lust and awe.

Eddie didn’t give him a chance to recover. With a low growl, he caught Steve’s mouth in a kiss that was all fangs and desperation, licking the blood from his lips. Then he yanked his head to the side. Steve barely had time to bare his neck before Eddie’s fangs slid home.

He gasped, choking on the sound that tried to rip out of him. Every nerve went white-hot, blinding pleasure flooding through him as Eddie drank. His nails scraped at Eddie’s back, clutching, clawing for purchase as his body arched helplessly into it.

The bond screamed, sparking so bright it was almost painful. Eddie’s hunger licked through it, tangled with Steve’s until neither of them could tell where one ended and the other began. It was too much- sharp and sweet and right- it was almost unbearable.

His vision blurred, stars bursting behind his eyes. He groaned, half plea, half warning. “Eds- fuck, I-”

Eddie pulled him closer, pulling deeper, groaning against his skin. The heat coiled tighter, threatening to unravel them both. Steve clung to him, their hearts hammering in unison, their bodies trembling from the overload.

The world tilted, edges going black, the pleasure cresting so sharp it was almost painful. He buried his face in Edide’s hair with a ragged gasp, whispering his name like a prayer.

And then everything went hazy- sweet, heady, nearly too much- the bond thrumming between them like a live wire. His eyes rolled back, mouth opening in a silent scream as his lashes fluttered. His entire body arched, straining into Eddie’s grip.

He couldn’t stop moving. His hips rolled helplessly, grinding up against Eddie’s lap as though the motion could bleed off even a fraction of the unbearable pleasure flooding his veins. But it only made it worse. Each drag of Eddie’s mouth, each swallow, sent another wave of sensations crashing through him, white-hot and dizzying.

“E-Eddie-” His voice broke apart into a whimper, barely more than breath. His fingers clawed at Eddie’s back, desperate, nails scraping fabric but finding no purchase. His chest heaved, every inhale caught on a moan he couldn’t bite back.

Eddie held him steady, firm, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other tight at his hip, keeping him pinned even as Steve writhed against him. A low growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating against Steve’s skin, the sound as intoxicating as the bite itself.

The pleasure crested higher, sharper, until Steve thought he might split apart from it. The bond was molten now, a live current arcing between them, magnifying everything. His body trembled, hips bucking up again and again in desperate rhythm, lost to the rush. His throat worked around broken sounds, eyes rolling back again as stars burst across his vision.

And still Eddie drank. Each pull was a drag straight from Steve’s soul, every swallow pulling another wave of raw pleasure through him. It was unbearable, it was devastating, it was perfect.

His body bowed, spine curving off the wall as the wave hit its peak. A cry ripped free- wordless, breathless- as the sensation spilled over the edge. His hips jolted once, twice, rolling against Eddie as he shook apart, before the strength slowly bled out of him, leaving him trembling and wrecked in Eddie’s arms.

At last, Eddie pulled back, slow and reluctant, lips covered in crimson, breath ragged against his throat. Steve sagged, chest heaving, eyes glassy, sweat damp at his forehead. He could barely feel his own hands where they still clung to fabric, fingers weak and trembling.

Eddie licked his lips, voice a hoarse rasp against Steve’s throat. “Holy shit, sweetheart.” He murmured, almost reverent. “You’re.. God, you’re so fuckin’ sweet when you fall apart for me like that.”

Steve’s laugh was broken, cracked through with a whimper as he struggled to pull in air. “Y-You’re.. You’re evil.” He managed, voice wrecked, head tilting weakly into Eddie’s touch. But there was no heat in the words- only awe, and a shiver that hadn’t yet left him.

Eddie was shaking, his breath coming ragged, chest heaving as he slowly pulled back from his throat, lips wet, fangs still bared. His head dropped forward, forehead pressing to Steve’s, a broken sound- half groan, half laugh- tumbled out of him.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart..” Eddie’s voice shook with the tremor his whole body felt. “You don’t.. You don’t know what you do to me.”

The bond was thrumming wildly between them, a rush of heat and light that left Eddie dizzy, his claws flexing at Steve’s hips like he didn’t know whether to pull him closer or pin him down harder. He could feel Steve’s pulse in every nerve of his own body, could taste his pleasure still flooding their connection, sweet and bright and endless. It made his fangs ache, made his body coil tight with need.

He ground down into Steve’s lap without meaning to, chasing the friction, his mouth dragging across Steve’s jaw in open, messy kisses, tasting sweat, skin, and the faint copper tang of blood as he left messy red trails behind. His voice was ruined when he whispered against him. “Can’t stop- fuck, you’re still burning in me-”

Steve whimpered beneath him, limp and trembling, his body wracked with aftershocks, but even through the haze he arched into his touch, hands clutching weakly at Eddie’s shirt, urging him closer.

That was all it took. Eddie growled, low and guttural, before his lips pressed back to Steve’s throat, not biting this time, but sucking at the bruised skin, laving at the bite he’d left there like he couldn’t get enough. The taste, the scent, the bond thrumming with every faint, broken sound Steve made- it was too much. He was drunk on it, high in a way he’d never known before.

He rutted helplessly against Steve, every nerve alight, hips rolling rough and desperate. “Sweetheart- oh, fuck, Stevie, you’re-” He cut himself off with a sharp moan, head thrown back as the pleasure hit him in waves though the bond, hot and relentless, every crest dragging another noise from his throat.

The bond surged- wild, electric- and for a moment Eddie thought he might black out, vision sparking, chest squeezing tight with the weight of them. He collapsed forward instead, mouth finding Steve’s again in a kiss that was all teeth, breath, and hunger, a frantic press like he needed more, always more.

Steve whimpered into him, hips shifting weakly beneath Eddie’s, the smallest roll that had Eddie shuddering apart with a cry, whole body arching as the high consumed him. He clung to Steve like he was the only thing tethering him to the world, every muscle trembling as the waves tore through him until at last he was sagging, shuddering, spent.

He buried his face against Steve’s throat, still licking lazily at the closed punctures, too dazed to stop. His voice came out raw, slurred almost, against his skin: “Fuck.. Mm, y’oo wreck me, Stevie… You.. Just wreck me.”

Steve let out a breathless laugh, shaking beneath him, fingers dragging weakly through Eddie’s hair. “Y-You’re… Telling me.” He whispered, voice wrecked, chest still fluttering with the ragged echo of his heart.

---

He whined softly as Eddie slowly dragged a towel over him. He was laying back against the pillows, blankets thrown off the bed haphazardly. Eyes fluttering half open to watch him, heavy with exhaustion but warm with that softened, post-high glow.

“Hey there.” Eddie whispered, looking up at him with a soft smile. He tossed the towel aside with the other dirtied ones. “How about we put on our clothes and head down to those showers, hmm?”

Steve let out a groan that was more whimper than protest, too wrung out to even think about moving on his own. Eddie chuckled quietly, brushing sweat damp curls off his forehead before reaching for their soiled clothes. “Alright, sweetheart, arms up.”

He obeyed sluggishly, muscles trembling with the effort. Eddie guided the fabric over his head, pulling it down carefully over him. “There we go.” The fabric clung damply, stiff where it had dried down his chest, and the collar was still tacky with blood. “Sorry, Stevie.” He murmured, rubbing some of the red away from Steve’s neck where the collar brushed. But he just blinked up at him, half gone, not even flinching, a dopey lazy smile on his lips. Eddie grimaced at the blood but said nothing, smoothing the shirt down before reaching for the sweatpants.

The moment he picked them up though, he wrinkled his nose. The fabric was clammy but smelled like Steve, streaked with blood where it had hit their shirts. “Ugh. These are vile.” Eddie muttered under his breath, but he still crouched down, steadying Steve’s ankle as he slid the pants up over his legs one at a time. “God, Harrington, you’re lucky I really like you.”

He dressed himself next, pulling his own ruined shirt over his head with the same sour face. The collar was stained and stiff, patches dried almost black against the dark shirt. He shoved into his own sweatpants and immediately regretted it. “Feels like crawling through a swamp.” He muttered darkly, tugging the waistband into place.

Then he bent down, gilding Steve’s arm over his shoulder. “Alright, sweetheart. Up we go. Lean on me.” He steadied him, wrapping an arm firmly around his waist. As soon as Steve was standing he slumped into him instantly, trusting Eddie to guide every step as they shuffled slowly down the sterile halls.

The showers were similar to the lab, sans cameras, but steamed up quickly. And Eddie wasted no time, stripping them down again, steadying him against the tiles as warm water washed over them both. Steve barely managed to keep his eyes open, head lolling to the side as Eddie worked soap over his shoulders, down his arms, careful and thorough.

He muttered under his breath the whole time- small things, grumbled jokes, little reassurances. “You’re lucky I adore you, Harrington. Dead weight like this and I’m still scrubbing your back. I should start charging.” He grumbled, but his hands were still steady, gentle but thorough, scrubbing away sweat, blood, and everything that was just them.

Steve hummed faintly, too tired to answer, too blissed out to care. Every time his knees buckled, Eddie was there, solid and steady, holding him up until he found his footing again. He washed his hair last, massaging shampoo with slow pressure, rinsing it carefully until it gleamed clean. Steve sagged boneless against him, pliant under every touch. Then he leaned back against the wall so Eddie could wash himself.

Once they were clean, Eddie dug into the locker they’d claimed as their own weeks ago. And to his relief, found a small stack of folded grey sweatpants. “Finally.” He muttered, snatching them up. “Clean, dry, soft. Perfect.” He turned back to Steve, grabbing the clean towel and rubbing it through his hair. He muttered soft praises the whole time he dried them both off, about how adorable he found Steve, about how good he’d been, how he just wants to lay in bed with him forever.

Then he pulled on his sweats, helping a still almost boneless Steve into his, the fabric a blessing against their chilling skin. Though, Eddie growled when he realized there were no shirts waiting with them.

“Of course. Clean pants, but no shirts. What the hell, Owens?” Eddie grumbled darkly, reaching down to snatch up their discarded, bloodied ones. “Guess we’re going back in these.” He gently pulled Steve’s ruined shirt back over his head, careful of the collar that dragged still damp. The fabric clinging uncomfortably but at least mostly dry now.

Then he yanked on his own with a grimace, muttering, “Feels like wearing cardboard reeking like rust.” Still, once dressed, Eddie helped guide him back through the halls, Steve still leaning heavily into him the whole way.

They slipped back into Owens’s office quietly, the heavy doors closing behind them with a muffled thud. Eddie led him straight to the mattress, lowering him down like he was precious cargo. Steve immediately curled in, turning onto his side to burrow against Eddie’s chest.

Eddie wrapped a protective arm around him, reaching to tug one of the blankets up and over them both. Steve was boneless, face pressed into Eddie’s dirtied shirt with a hum of contentment.

“You’re out of it, huh sweetheart?” Eddie murmured, brushing damp strands off his forehead. His fingers lingered, combing slowly through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Steve shivered, then burrowed closer, one hand sliding under Eddie’s shirt to rest over his stomach.

Eddie smiled down at him, eyes soft. His arm tightened around Steve, tugging the blanket a little higher. His hand never stilled- smoothing over his temple, rubbing circles at the nape of his neck, combing tenderly through damp strands.

Steve was caught in that clingy in-between place, too tired to stay awake but unwilling to let go. Every time Eddie shifted, his fingers curled tighter, holding on. “Don’t go.” He mumbled faintly, barely audible as his tongue felt too heavy for words still.

“Not going anywhere.” Eddie whispered, angling down to kiss his hair. “You’re stuck with me, Harrington.”

He gave a soft, sleepy hum, finally relaxing, his breathing slowly evening out against Eddie’s chest. Eddie stayed awake, stroking his hair, letting himself bask in the warmth of Steve curled tight against him.

For the first time in weeks, they felt more free than caged.

---

He wiped his mouth slowly, bringing his blood soaked thumb to his lips to lick the last drop clean. Eddie sat against the wall, watching him with an almost feral grin as he licked his lips clean. “Fuckin’ beautiful.” Eddie growled, leaning up to catch him in a quick kiss.

“Mm.” He hummed into it, letting his hand reach out to tangle his fingers with Eddie’s. “Everyone’s gonna know what we’ve been up to.” He mumbled against the others lips, though he couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah well, I’m pretty sure they already know sweetheart.” He brought Steve’s hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it softly, eyes sparkling with warmth.

He tipped his head against the wall, eyes half-lidded, still buzzing with that bone-deep hum that lingered after feeding. His body was loose, warm, heavy in all the best ways. He let Eddie hold his hand close, thumb brushing idly over Eddie’s knuckles, savoring the closeness. “We’re a mess.” He whispered, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.

Eddie huffed a laugh, leaning close enough that their foreheads brushed. “Yeah, but we’re a good mess.” His hand slid up, brushing back Steve’s hair from his forehead before he leaned over to drop a kiss there. Then, with an exaggerated groan, he pushed himself upright, tugging Steve along with him. “C’mon, Stevie. We should get back before one of those kids sends a search party.”

He let himself be pulled up, swaying slightly on his feet before steadying against Eddie’s side. Their shoulders bumped, hips brushing as if neither of them could stand to leave even an inch of space between them. He leaned into it without hesitation, arms brushing as they started a slow walk to the door.

Eddie glanced down at himself and grimaced dramatically. “God, these shirts. Feels like I’m wrapped in crusted cardboard.” But he was smiling as he said it, eyes soft as they flicked over Steve’s collar where the dark stain stretched down his chest. “Still- makes you look kinda dangerous, I like it.”

He snorted softly, giving him a sidelong look. “You’ve got the same thing goin’ on, Munson. Don’t try to pretend it’s some hot fashion choice.”

“Pfft. Please. You could make a potato sack look like runway couture." Eddie said with a cocky grin, though the hand he moved to Steve’s back stayed gentle, steadying him as they stepped out into the hallway.

The walk back down the halls was unhurried, neither of them able- or willing- to pull too far apart, even as soldiers hurried past, giving them the occasional fearful glance. Their hands brushed once, twice, before Eddie gave in and laced them back together, holding on tight as if daring anyone to say something.

When they finally pushed through the doors into their makeshift room, the chatter cut off immediately. Every pair of eyes swung to them.

He blinked, pausing mid-step, and for a second the weight of all those gazes made his cheeks heat. Then Eddie gave a low, mocking whistle, throwing his free hand up in a dramatic wave. “At ease, soldiers. It’s just us.”

The tension broke with a laugh- Dustin’s, sharp and relieved- and suddenly everyone was talking again, voices rising in overlapping waves.

Wayne was the first to approach. He stood, moving through the gathering of people with two battered MRE packs in hand. “You’re just in time.” He said simply, pressing one into Eddie’s palm and the other into Steve’s. His eyes roamed over them, lingering on their darker collars, but didn’t comment. Just gave Steve’s shoulder a firm squeeze before retreating back toward the table.

They’d walked back to their beds, and Eddie tore open his immediately, glancing over to see Steve doing the same. “Well,” He muttered around a bite, “could be worse. At least they didn’t give us the veggie omelet.”

Robin appeared suddenly beside Steve, eyebrows climbing high as she gave him a once-over. “Wow. You look… Terrible.” She said with fake sweetness, though her eyes were crinkled with concern beneath the tease. “That’s not your blood, right?” She motioned toward his shirt.

He shrugged, mouth full. “Some of it,” he admitted after swallowing. He barely got the words out before Eddie made a mock-terrified face at Robin.

“Oh no,” Eddie stage whispered. “She’s onto us. Quick, Harrington, kiss me to distract her!”

Steve elbowed him, choking on a laugh. Robin groaned and waved them off, muttering, “You two are ridiculous.” Before returning to her seat at the foot of Nancy’s bed.

They had barely settled side by side when Hopper lumbered past, glancing at them with his usual gruff frown. “You two break anything in here, you’re cleaning it up yourself.” He muttered without stopping to talk to them.

Eddie called after him, grinning. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Chief!” Before leaning close to whisper in Steve’s ear, “Well.. Maybe just the desk.” He shoved his face into Eddie’s shoulder to smother a laugh, heat crawling up his neck.

Their food was halfway gone when Joyce came by to check on them, brushing a gentle hand over Steve’s arm. “You holding up, honey?” She asked softly, her voice low enough that it was meant just for him.

He blinked, caught off guard by the tenderness. “Uh.. Yeah. Getting there.” Eddie’s hand caught his, giving a gentle squeeze. Joyce looked to Eddie next who just nodded.

“Good.” Her gaze softened, and then she moved on, slipping back into the current of voices.

One by one, people passed by, came to check on them, to make sure they were still here. Jonathan asking quietly if they needed anything, Mike blurting out something awkward about “looking kind of like actual vampires now” earning himself an elbow from Lucas and a smirk from Eddie. Max giving Steve a small, approving nod like she understood more than she let on. Even Murray popped up long enough to mutter about “textbook trauma bonding behavior” before wandering off again, Wayne smacking the back of his head.

Through it all, he and Eddie stayed pressed into each other, hands brushing, shoulders leaning into one another. Every interruption came and went, but they always returned to that little pocket of space between them- soft and warm.

When Eleven drifted by after they’d all finished dinner, her eyes lingered on the blood at their collars, but she didn’t look afraid, nor did she ever smelt of it. “You are stronger now.” She simply said, then nodded once and walked away like it was a simple fact.

He blinked after her, bemused. Eddie just smiled crookedly, bumping his knee against Steve’s. “Guess that makes just the two of us, huh?” Eddie joked when it seemed like no one else would bother them.

It was quiet for a while. Just the two of them leaning into one another as they listened to the groups around them- hear Will’s happy laughter, Hopper’s deep grumbling, Wayne’s annoyance at Murray, even Nancy’s clipped tone at a joke Mike made.

But eventually, there was a quiet comment that cut through it all. A whispered, “Hey.” They looked up together and found Wayne watching them from across the room. The kids had moved into sprawled out clusters around the adults, voices rising and falling in half a dozen conversations. Wayne tipped his head toward the table, a silent invitation.

With a sigh, he stretched his legs before pushing himself up. He held out a hand to Eddie without a word, and he took it easily, letting himself be pulled to his feet. They stayed close as they crossed the room, his shoulder brushing Eddie’s arm, Eddie’s hand tapping twice against his wrist before he let go. They dropped into two empty chairs at the end of the table, leaning into each other like it was the most natural thing in the world.

For a moment, no one spoke. The low buzz of the lights the only sound. Until Hopper leaned back, chewing on the inside of his cheek, eyes roaming over the people gathered. Then, with a deep sigh, he straightened and dragged a hand over his beard.

“We’ve been here for over three weeks now,” Hopper started, voice carrying in the hush that followed. “And there hasn’t been a single sighting of One. Vecna. Whatever name you wanna give him.”

The words landed heavy, pulling murmurs from the table. Joyce shifting closer to Hopper, Jonathan leaning in to hear better, Nancy crossing her arms jaw tight. He glanced toward Eddie, who only raised a brow as if to say, here it comes.

“The Demogorgon and dogs presence is steady,” Hopper went on, tone grim. “Doesn’t seem to be going away. But.. They’re mostly keeping their distance, for now. And all of us?” His gaze swept over the table. “We’re all getting restless.”

A ripple of agreement circled, voices overlapping- Robin muttering a quiet yeah, no shit. Lucas sighing, Dustin shoving his hands into his pockets as if bracing for a fight.

“So..” Hopper cleared his throat, settling the matter with one heavy word. “I spoke to Owens earlier. He agrees we might as well head back. Get on with our lives. Either he will show up, or he doesn’t.. Eleven and Will will check in every few days using the tank, but there isn’t much else we can do right now.”

The room bristled. Protests rose immediately- Mike sat forward suddenly, Max scowled, Robin hissed through her teeth. Hopper lifted a hand, and the rising noise dropped.

“The rest of Hawkins is in the same boat as us. They’ve been holding their breaths, waiting for the big bad to show up. And now?” His hand dropped flat against the table. “Now they’re being told to go about their lives. Be more cautious than before, stay in groups, carrying a weapon if they can. Because monster sightings are up. They’re moving around town more freely. That’s our new reality.”

Steve exhaled slowly out his nose. He could feel Eddie’s knee bump against his under the table, a wordless nudge. His fingers itched to reach over, but the weight of so many eyes had him curling them into fists instead.

Nancy leaned forward, voice sharp. “So you’re saying what? We just.. Go home? Pretend it’s normal until it isn’t?”

“Not pretend,” Hopper corrected, eyes narrowing. “Adapt. Live our lives but stay ready.”

“But Hawkins isn’t safe.” Robin shot back. “If the numbers are rising-”

“Nothing’s safe.” Hopper cut her off. His tone wasn’t cruel, just matter of fact. “Hawkins hasn’t been safe in years. But we can’t stay locked in here forever.”

Joyce touched his arm, softening him, before looking around at the kids. “It means being careful. Watching each other’s backs. And yes- it means going back to school when it starts, or to work, or..” Her voice faltered as she glanced over at Eddie then Steve, both still in their blood-stained shirts. “..Or whatever normal looks like now.”

The table shifted uneasily. Will ducked his head, Eleven squeezed his hand. Jonathan pressed his lips together like he wanted to argue but didn’t know how.

Eddie finally broke the silence, his voice low but carrying. “So, basically, we wait. Hope the bastard shows his face before half the town loses theirs.” He flashed a humorless grin. “Great plan.”

A murmur of nervous laughter ripped around the table, but Wayne only gave him a steady look, one hand tapping idly against his water bottle. “Better than sittin’ ‘round til we rot.”

His grin faded, but Steve felt the twitch of his shoulder next to his. Eddie might not have liked it, but he wasn’t going to push Wayne on this one. Not here.

Steve leaned just enough for their arms to brush again. The noise at the table swelled again- questions, arguments, bits of planning- but through it all, Steve stayed pressed in close, Eddie’s warmth at his side the only thing keeping him focused.

“And..” Hopper spoke up again after the conversations began to calm. “The soldiers have now been fully informed about you two.” His gaze landed squarely on Steve and Eddie. “Besides making sure Brenner and his men don’t get near you, they’ve been given strict orders not to shoot you, no matter how much blood you’re covered in.”

The room fell quiet at that. He felt Eddie stiffen beside him, just enough that he pressed harder against him. He didn’t flinch, but his jaw ticked, hand flexed once against his thigh before stilling.

He exhaled slowly, biting back the instinctive bitterness that wanted to rise. Not to shoot you. The words were meant to reassure, but they still made his skin crawl. Like they’d been discussed in terms of threat before settling on allies. He dragged his eyes away from Hopper’s and down to a scratch on the table, focusing on the way Eddie’s knee nudged his under the metal.

Eddie’s voice came a second later, dry as sandpaper. “Gee, thanks, Chief. Nothing warms the heart like finding out we’ve been upgraded from potential target practice to try not to shoot on sight. Real confidence booster.”

Wayne gave a low grunt at Eddie’s sarcasm, and Robin let out a sharp snort before she clamped her mouth shut. Hopper didn’t rise to it, just gave him a pointed look. “It’s better than them thinking you’re working with the Upside Down. Better than them seeing you in the woods and shooting you.”

“Yeah.” Eddie muttered, shifting so his elbow rested against the back of Steve’s chair, fingers brushing against the base of his neck. “Guess it is.”

He tilted slightly toward the touch without thinking, and he felt Eddie’s claws barely slip out before retracting, gentled as he sent a calming reassurance through the bond, though he still felt uncertain.

Nancy cleared her throat then, breaking the building tension. “So, if we’re leaving.. Where do they go?” Her chin angled toward Steve and Eddie, her eyes fierce but not unkind. “You said the soldiers have their orders, but.. You two can’t just walk down Main Street yet. They haven’t put out a statement.”

That dragged the group back into a low swell of voices. Murray immediately laughed into some theory about “controlled exposure” and how they could perhaps reframe their existence as a public narrative- “cryptids with a cause” was muttered under his breath- but Joyce hushed him, clearly worried about them. Wayne once again smacked the back of his head. -Gonna give him brain damage.. Even if it’s deserved.-

“We’ll figure it out.” Hopper grunted, though it sounded more like a promise he hadn’t yet worked out the details for.

He blinked slowly, head turning just enough to meet Eddie’s eyes. He raised a brow. -So.. Do we get a vote on where we get stuffed away this time? Or are they gonna decide for us?-

Eddie’s lips twitched. ‘Careful, sweetheart. Say that out loud and Owens might stick us in a shoebox with air holes… Or Dustin more like.- He glanced at the kid before back at Steve.

His mouth almost broke into a smile before he caught himself. Dustin leaned across the table, eyes side. “But seriously, where are you two gonna go? Like- are you just gonna stay here, Wayne’s, your house, or?.. Are you gonna disappear back to wherever it is you live now?”

“We’ll figure it out.” He replied aloud, voice even but final. He didn’t elaborate, he didn’t have the energy to right now.

Eddie drummed his fingers once against the table, earning him a quick warning glance from Wayne. He rolled his eyes but stilled them, then slouched deeper into his chair, brushing his shoulder against Steve’s again.

Across the table, Max broke the quiet with her usual bluntness. “Well, as long as you two don’t like.. Eat anybody.” Her tone was half serious, half joking, but her eyes darted to Eleven, then to Hopper, as if checking if she’d gone too far.

Steve’s head shot up at that, mouth opening as if to make them remember he’d never hurt any of them ever. But Eddie’s hand came down lightly on his knee under the table, and answered instead, smirking just enough to show a hint of fang. “Don’t worry, little Red. I’d never waste a meal on someone who doesn’t even season their fries.”

That earned a ripple of laughter, even from Lucas, who shoved Max’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, you guys wouldn’t hurt us. We know.” She rolled her eyes, leaning into Lucas. “Because your booming ‘No’ when Owens volunteered us wasn’t enough, right?”

The room seemed to relax again, the background hum of planning resuming from the kids. Joyce was pressing Hopper about adding that permanent addition to the house, whatever that meant he wasn’t sure. Murray was already sketching out some convoluted cover story, and the kids had broken off into another side conversation about how to deal with what was left of their summer.

Through it all, Eddie leaned closer, muttering low enough for only Steve to catch. “So, what d’you think, sweetheart? Shoebox? Ooh maybe Owens could give us a dog crate instead.”

He huffed, finally allowing a ghost of a smile as his hand crept under the table, brushing over Eddie’s. He didn’t answer right away, just let the warmth of his hand settle into him. Then, quietly: “Long as it’s big enough for both of us.”

That got him a grin wide enough to split Eddie’s face. His hand squeezed his once, firm, before leaning back again, both of them content to fade into the noise of the group.

Notes:

The things I have planned for the new chapter.. I'm sorry. :)

Edited: 9/14 because I didn't realize my autocorrect made Hawkins into Hawkin's

Chapter 39: The Mirror Of Galadriel

Summary:

“Besides,” Eddie pulled back just enough to catch his eye again, “if I ever do push you off a cliff or something, you better well believe I’m falling right beside you. No way you’re leaving me to deal with all those kids alone.”

Notes:

There is no explicit sex in this chapter, though I thought about it.

Instead, there's some fully clothed grinding and implied sex.

Enjoy them being obsessed with each other!

His chest heaved, his legs burned as he pushed himself that much faster. -I’m almost there. Just hold on!-

The wind was the first thing- always the wind. It cut hard against his face, slicing across his cheeks, whipping through his hair in wild, singing gusts. Cold enough to bite. Cold enough to feel like it could flay him raw. But… Where was he?

The air was damp, heavy with the scent of water. Not clean, not fresh like rain, but mineral-rich, mossy- like rivers colliding with stone, water crashing somewhere close by. The tang of wet rock sat thick on his tongue; he’d tasted this before. Beneath it, the musk of familiar earth and leaves, rain-soaked and rotting. He could hear the faint rustle of branches overhead, brittle in the wind, and the sharp crunch of loose gravel shifting beneath his uncertain steps.

It was clearer this time. Sharper. The more the dream- and he knew he was dreaming now- repeated, the more he realized the place wasn’t just made up- it was somewhere. Familiar, maybe, though he could never quite place it when he woke up.

Was this.. Outside the lab?

The answer never came. Instead, the sound rose up again, pressing hard against his skull. Heartbeats. A dozen at first, then too many to count. Like multiple teams joining together. Pounding fast, frantic, all around him. Too loud. Too human. They beat against his ears like war drums, like a countdown to something inevitable. Surrounding. Closing in.

There was a hand in his. Strong, iron-tight, unrelenting. Familiar. He knew it before he looked, but still, his breath caught as he whipped his head to the side. Eddie. It was always Eddie, every time. And just as it was always Eddie, he could never change what came next.

The sight of his face made Steve’s stomach lurch. His skin was paler than normal, stretched tight, eyes wide and glassy, and his jaw was clenched so tight Steve thought he could hear the grind of teeth over the roar of hearts and boots. Scared didn’t fit, not really. This wasn’t just fear- it was something deeper, something plucked raw. Eddie looked downright terrified.

They stood together on jagged stone, a precipice that seemed sharper now than in his earlier dreams. The edge crumbled beneath their heels with every minuscule shift, rock breaking off and tumbling into the nothingness below.

And beyond them- around them- shadows pressed in. Blacker than night, thicker than fog, rippling like they were alive. Shapes stretched long, reaching, writhing, impossible to count. He couldn’t name them. He couldn’t define them. He could only feel them circling, waiting. On what. He had no idea.

Eddie’s grip tightened so fiercely he swore he felt bone bending, splintering. Pain lanced through his fingers, but he didn’t try to pull away; he never did. He couldn’t. Because no matter how hard he tried, nothing changed the ending. Eddie’s lips moved, his voice threading weakly beneath the cacophony, broken and sharp and far too soft for Steve to ever catch. He strained forward, desperate to finally hear, but the words slipped away before they ever reached him- like they always did.

Only one cut through. A word echoing, wrapped, drawn out like it came from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Sorry.”

And then- always then.

The pull. The violent, jarring yank backwards. His feet scraped uselessly against stone, pebbles scattering, before the ground itself was gone. He was falling. Air whipping past him, cold and unyielding, dragging him down.

His grip had been torn from Eddie’s. Nails scraping desperately across Eddie’s palm before their fingers ripped apart.

He tried to shout, because maybe this time would be different. Tried to scream Eddie’s name, but no sound ever came out. His throat worked, lungs burned, mouth opened wide in silent agony. Nothing but air rushed out, swallowed instantly by the wind.

Above him, Eddie’s face blurred, fading into the distance. But the eyes- he could still see the apology in them, carved deep, finally. Just before-

A crack split the air, right on time. Sharp, violently. A gunshot? A firework? Maybe it was one of the kids, maybe it was- He could never tell.

And then, as always, Eddie was gone.

Vanished.

Leaving only the needless plunge, the roaring dark rising up fast to meet him.

Is it like this because he dies? Because he always wakes up right as he-

---

Again- The nightmare came more frequently as of late. But the wind, it was still always the first thing he noticed. It carved at his face, icy and sharp at the speed he was running, tearing through his hair until his scalp ached. Bitter cold, too real for a dream.

The second thing was the smell. Thick, mineral-heavy water laced with moss and stone, wet earth clung to the back of his throat. Some nights the taste was stronger, copper-bright like blood had seeped into it. Other nights it was muted, more rainwater than rock. But always there. Always choking him.

Beneath his feet, loose gravel shifted, sometimes crunching sharply, sometimes sliding slick like the ground itself didn’t want to hold him. The dream sharpened more with every recurrence: the jagged edge, the way the rocks curved outward as though calling to him.

And the sound of water in the distance- it hadn’t always been there. At first, it was just a dull ripple, shapeless. Like someone had disturbed the surface. Now he could almost make out the rhythm of water rolling into rocks.

Was this.. Were they escaping the lab?

Then came the hearts. He knew what would come after. Dozens. Too many to count. They thundered around him, pressing in until the inside of his skull throbbed with their fearful rhythm. Some nights they beat faster, frantic. Other times, they slowed, dragging, like a predator waiting for the right moment. Too human. Too close. Always, always closing in.

And then the hand. Always the hand. Always on his left. It came iron-tight in his own, grounding him even as it threatened to crush.

Eddie.

Because it was never anyone else. It was always Eddie.

But the details shifted there too. Some nights, Eddie’s eyes were wide and wet, pure terror behind them. Other times, they were hollow, distant, like he’d already given up. Like back in his cell. Once- only once- Steve swore he saw blood smeared down Eddie’s jaw, dark against the pale skin, though he blinked and it was gone. He had been rather hungry that night. Had that influenced it?

The shadows pressed closer, thicker each time, darker than the forest they’d come from. Shapes stretched long, twisting. Sometimes they had edges- hands, mouths, gaping wider than they should. Other times, they were just in a suffocating blur, shifting too fast for him to follow. But they were always alive. Always circling.

Eddie’s grip clenched tighter most times. Words formed on his lips, broken fragments Steve could never piece together. Some nights, he thought he caught names. Others it sounded like warnings. And sometimes, faintest of all, a plea.

But always- always- the same word slipped through, warped and echoing, as if the shadows themselves carried it: “Sorry.”

Then the drop. Always sudden. Always violent, even if he knew to expect it. He was yanked backwards, feet skidding, ground gone beneath him.

He fell.

Every time, the air screamed past his ears, freezing cold, tearing breath from his chest. He could see nothing but where he once stood; everything else was shrouded in black. He always remembered the lingering warmth of Eddie’s palm, the way his nails dragged across them, sometimes both hands, sometimes just one, but always leaving scratches that never seemed to draw blood. Almost as if begging him not to do it.

And every time, he tried to scream. To shout Eddie’s name. To beg him not to let go. But no sound came. Not once. His lungs burned, throat raw, but the dream stole his voice every time.

Above him, Eddie’s face blurred with distance. Yet the apology in his eyes never changed. Not once.

And then- the crack.

Sharp, violent. Sometimes it was distant, muffled, like the world splitting in the distance. Other nights, it was so close his ears rang with it, chest rattling with the force. But he never knew what it was. Sometimes it sounded like a gunshot, sometimes a tree snapping. Or sometimes, it was something else entirely unknown.

But always after, Eddie was gone.

Always gone.

Vanished into the all consuming dark.

Leaving Steve with nothing but the endless plunge, the rush of air, and the black swallowing him whole.

Almost every night it happened. And almost every night it grew clearer, sharper, crueler- as though the dream wasn’t just haunting him. It was mocking him.

And every night he questions what that means. What does the dream mean? Why does he always wake up while falling? Is it his death? Is it Eddie’s? Both? But he doesn’t know. Because he always wakes up right as-

---

Steve jerked awake with a sharp gasp, chest heaving as he shot upright. For a moment, the remnants of the latest dream clung to him like ice down his spine- wind howling, the echo of the bang, Eddie slipping away. His throat scratched, dry and aching like he’d screamed, though no sound had escaped.

His eyes darted around the dim room, breathing in uneven bursts, searching for-

“Eddie?” His voice came hoarse.

The space beside Steve was empty, the sheets already cold. His stomach gave a quick twist- instincts screaming- but he brushed against the bond; it felt warm and steady. Eddie was close, his presence glowing in the back of his mind. Not distressed, not in danger. But content, warm. Awake.

The bond hummed with simple things- Eddie’s amusement at something around him, the dull thrum of his hunger, the comfort of home. And through it all, a scent carried up through the air confirming what he already knew: bacon frying, toast cooking, coffee brewing strong and bitter the way only Wayne seemed to enjoy.

He let out a long, shaky breath. Dragging a hand through his sweat-damp hair he sat there for a moment longer, breathing in the here and now, trying to calm his nerves. Dream or not, Eddie was safe. They both were.

Finally, with a deep sigh, he pushed himself out of bed. Moving with the heavy shuffle of someone still half-caught between sleep and memory. From Eddie’s dresser, he grabbed the well worn Hellfire sweatshirt, tugging it over his bare chest. The fabric still smelt of Eddie even after being washed, detergent, and the leather of the jacket next to it too. He pulled on a pair of his own clean jeans, then padded barefoot into the hall.

Wayne had been busy these past weeks since they’d left the lab, quietly putting touches of them into the house. Steve slowed as he passed the wall of photos, where a new frame had gone up just yesterday.

It’s soft blue frame with ‘Family’ across the corner catching his eye.

Jonathan had taken it during dinner at the Byers house just a few days after leaving the lab. Everyone had squeezed comfortably around the long table after Hopper was finally convinced to drag the extenders out of storage.

Steve was leaning into Eddie in that moment, eyes bright, mouth tilted in a grin that felt all too genuine and open for the moment. He remembered Eddie’s hand was resting on his knee under the table then.

Will and Eleven sat across from them. Will’s hands were captured mid-movement as he talked animatedly, Eleven’s mouth open mid-word as they both described what they’d seen in the tank that day- shadows, doors, fragments of what the Demogorgons were doing. The entire table had focused on them, even Hopper, who stopped eating, one hand braced against his jaw, eyes narrowed but listening.

Wayne had been caught with a soft smile, settled next to Eddie’s other side, face softened with a smile Steve had only caught a handful of times, but it always meant something when he did. Joyce was across from him with her youngests. Hopper and Jonathan had taken the ends of the table, one chair currently empty as he snapped the photo.

The image radiated warmth. For the first time in months- years, really- there had been no fear, no sadness, no lingering ache of those missing. Just food, conversation, and a kind of peace Steve hadn’t realized he craved until he had it. Not a single scent smelled of disgust as they’d drank blood filled cups. No scent of fear as they’d let their claws loose to tease and joke. No fear when Steve had been egged on to lift the pitcher of justice with his mind to pour Will another glass.

He lingered on the photo for another long moment, just smiling at the memory. Before he slowly pulled himself away, stepping into the bathroom. He washed up slowly, the water hot against his still- cold skin. His reflection in the mirror looked.. Comfortable. Hair a chaotic mess, sweatshirt swallowing his frame. The faint redness in his eyes the only visible trace of the nightmare, and even that was fading fast.

The quiet of Wayne’s house no longer felt heavy. It once again felt like a place he wanted to be. It was a comfort, the kind that came from creaking floorboards, the hum of the refrigerator, the voices drifting up from below. Even the silence felt safe now.

Outside of their little bubble though, the government’s carefully constructed story was already spreading, taking root in Hawkins the way most of their lies did- with whispers, then cautious acceptance. He’d sat and memorized the details with Eddie, though each time he thought of it, it made his chest squeeze uncomfortably.

Eddie had even pinned the newspaper they’d printed it in in his room. It was a cold read, but it amused Eddie, which was something Steve couldn’t bring himself to take away. It read:

‘In The Aftermath of Hawkins Greatest Trials’

By now, we are all aware of what has taken place. But what we do not know is the ending. But now, four years after the murders and earthquakes that shook our small town to its core. We have answers.

In the aftermath of the earthquakes, Steve Harrington, critically injured protecting his friends, was transported not to the overrun hospital but to the Hawkins Lab, where doctors got to work providing immediate treatment.

According to our sources, it was there that he began the long process of recovery, adjusting to the reality of the life he would now have to live. Officials chose to reiterate their story of his initial prolonged absence: That Mr Harrington’s condition required ongoing observation at the Lab due to his injuries.

But now we know what else has happened. Apparently what we were not told. Was that both Mr Harrington and Edward Munson had survived the fight with Jason Carver.

Sources that were on scene at the time confirmed that a search and recovery team discovered Munson half-buried in the wreckage of the Creel House. Gravely wounded, he had managed to crawl partway to freedom before collapsing. His injuries were so severe they required immediate surgery, and so he too was taken to the Hawkins Lab. From there he was placed into a medically induced coma.

Search teams still scouring the debris reported something troubling: no body belonging to Jason Carver was ever found or recovered. While authorities initially assumed he had perished, there was quiet acknowledgement of another possibility- that he had escaped. At the time, few believed Carver would resurface so they did not pursue him further.

However, that turned out not to be the case.

Multiple eye witness sources confirm that Carver infiltrated the Hawkins Lab not but a few weeks after the earthquakes. From there he breached Munson’s recovery room and kidnapped him.

Once, a still comatose Munson was taken- where we were unable to confirm- Carver turned his attention to Steve Harrington. The very first time Harrington had been left home alone after recovering, Carver struck. Harrington was abducted and, alongside Munson, subjected to months of captivity- marked by torture and exposure to the very creatures and places that have now long haunted our town.*

That exposure, according to our sources- please note this writer has been unable to confirm due to not yet seeing either of the men- changed them both forever.

Carver’s downfall, sources claimed, came from his own arrogance. As Hawkins drew renewed federal attention, professional response teams were dispatched. They eventually located Carver and his base of operations and neutralized him, permanently.

It seems that after all this time Carver had been keeping Harrington and Munson locked up some distance from Hawkins in an underground storm shelter. Torturing them for his own sick amusement. But. After four long years, a rescue team found them, and brought both Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson back, alive. Though just barely, eyewitnesses confirm both men were starved, heavily injured, and clinging to one another.

To be honest, readers. I would be surprised if they weren’t. Four years kept locked up together would bring any one of us close, near death experiences or not. But I digress.

The recovery was treated as both urgent and delicate. Owing to their extended contact with the creatures around town, both boys were sedated immediately upon extraction. Doctors that gave their statements stressed that this precaution gave them both time to heal and to be observed, but to above all, ensure they posed no threat to Hawkins- or beyond.

For months, the two remained in the Hawkins Lab. Their conditions were described as fragile. Violent if separated, skittish, afraid of loud noises.

But dear readers fear not. The reports I was allowed to read over from the doctors reassured me that they did everything in their power to assess them both, stabilize them, and prepare them for reentry into society.

And finally, finally, as many of you may have heard by now around town. Harrington and Munson were announced as alive, safe. Changed in ways no one was fully able to explain- but not dangerous. Maybe a bit less human. But trustworthy.

But overall we cannot forget these two men were victims. They’ve suffered so much for so long. Munson was accused of murdering his close friend and then hunted by those who were supposed to protect him. Both men got gravely injured protecting their loved ones. Both suffered together.

But above all else my readers. We cannot make the same mistake we did before in assuming just because someone looks different than us they are a dangerous criminal.

So, please, if you see them on the street, do not harass them. Do not ask them what it was like. Nor make fun of them for things outside their control.

So to finally end it all. After murders, earthquakes, and missing persons. A four year chapter is coming to a close. And a happy one at that.

*Turn to page 5 on our continued report on the work combating monster attacks in town.
*Turn to page 8 for updated areas to avoid.
*Turn to page 8 for updated safety procedures.
*Turn to page 10 for updated report times and corresponding radio stations.

Steve had been almost at a loss for words reading it. They’d left out all the gory details and gave just the bare minimum, he nor Eddie thought anyone would buy it.

But they had. The town responded better than anyone dated to hope. Willing to accept almost anything after what they’d seen. And, according to Wayne, people at the grocery store had already stopped him to offer well wishes, to say they’d been praying for Eddie’s health.

Eddie had rolled his eyes when Wayne told them, muttering something about Hawkins’s selective memory, but Steve had seen the way his shoulders eased afterwards, a weight finally lifting. And Steve- well, he was still learning to breathe through it. To believe that peace like this could last, for any of them.

Steve made his way quietly down the stairs, bare feet finding the familiar creaks along the way. The smell of eggs and bacon guiding him as his eyes were half closed. The house finally felt lived in and warm. This was the kind of morning that felt almost impossible only weeks ago.

A slow smile crept across his lips when he spotted Wayne at the kitchen table, newspaper folded open, neatly in half, reading glasses perched on his nose. Steam curled from his mug, and he didn’t look up when Steve entered. Though one corner of his mouth twitched in quiet acknowledgement. Wayne was never big on greetings before he finished his first cup.

Eddie was at the stove, back to the, humming to himself. Something old, something he didn’t recognize, maybe another metal riff he’d softened when he thought no one was listening. Hips swaying as he worked the pan, curls bouncing with the movement, and Steve found himself watching far longer than he meant to. It was just, the picture of it- Eddie safe, alive, making breakfast in Wayne’s kitchen- settled something deep in his chest.

He drifted forward, hands tucked into his pockets, stopping first at Wayne’s side. Without words he leaned down and wrapped his arms briefly around the man’s shoulders, squeezing in a quiet ‘good morning’. Wayne gave a soft grunt, lowering the paper just enough to squeeze Steve’s arm back before he pulled away. No words needed.

He moved on, drawn to Eddie like a magnet. He slipped behind him, wrapping his arms loosely around Eddie’s waist, pressing close enough that his chest molded against his back. His chin came to rest on his boyfriend’s shoulder, breath warm against Eddie’s neck.

“Morning.” He rasped, voice heavy with the remnants of sleep.

Eddie’s entire body seemed to soften, like he’d been waiting for him. “Morning, sweetheart.” He twisted slightly, just enough to look at Steve. His brows pulled together when he got a good look, leaning in to press a kiss between Steve’s brows, lingering for a second. “Everything alright?”

He hummed low in his chest, eyes dropping to the pan. Scrambled eggs, fluffy and nearly done. “‘M fine. Just, y’know.. Same nightmare.” His voice cracked on the last word, too soft for Waye to catch over the rustle of his morning paper.

Eddie’s free hand slid up to squeeze his wrist where it wrapped around him, gentle. “I’m sorry.” His thumb brushed slowly across the inside of Steve’s wrist. “Breakfast’ll be ready in a minute if you wanna sit.”

He only hummed again, weight sinking heavier into Eddie’s back, refusing to move. His forehead brushed Eddie’s shoulder as he pulled back enough to get comfortable, letting himself rest there. The warmth of them, the smell of his shampoo faint under the scents of food, the easy way he moved around the kitchen- Steve wanted to soak it all in, to chase the lingering chill of the dream away.

These past weeks had been softer. Each day peeling back the layers of fear, each night letting their shoulders drop just a little more as the weight of secrecy finally lifted. They laughed easier. Ate meals without looking over their shoulders. Slept without wrenching the curtains shut- admittedly they still did that but now it was just to block out the sun, not in fear. The weight of hiding from the world was finally over.

Well.. Almost.

Brenner’s shadow still stretched long over everything, pointedly unspoken but ever-present.

The other didn’t walk about him or it either. Not out loud. Not around them. But every time the subject got too close, he felt Eddie tense just the same as he did, the bond pulling tight with shared unease. For now, they kept the peace by ignoring it. Pretending it wasn’t there.

Behind them, Wayne folded his paper clearing his throat. “Coffee’s fresh, Steve.” His voice was casual, but there was weight behind it, the kind that made it clear he’d already noticed the exhaustion in Steve’s eyes.

With a quiet sigh he loosened one arm from Eddie’s waist, reaching blindly back toward the counter for the mug Wayne always left set out for him, not that it did much, but it was something normal, a routine. -Which Doc claimed was something we need.- Though he didn’t let go of Eddie completely, wasn’t ready to.

Eddie grinned faintly, shaking the pan once more before turning off the burner. “Alright, breakfast of champions is ready. Eggs, bacon, toast- Wayne made the coffee, so prepare to have your soul burned straight outta your chest.”

Wayne snorted. “Don’t hear you complainin’ when you drink half the pot.”

Eddie laughed, and Steve felt it tumble through him, low and warm. He tightened his hold for just a second, pulling them closer together. Just to feel his warmth for a second longer. To remind himself this was real.

The dream could have him in the dark, forever falling. But here, in this kitchen, with Eddie’s laugh in his chest and Wayne’s quiet presence at the table. He could breathe again.

He didn’t let go. Not when Eddie plated up the eggs, or the bacon. Not when Wayne scraped his chair back to get the coffee pot and toast. He hovered behind him, chin still resting on Eddie’s shoulder, arms still loose around his waist. Eddie, for his part, didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He leaned back into Steve’s chest, shifting his weight just enough that Steve could carry some of it, a silent acknowledgement: I’m here. You’re here. We’re fine.

“Alright, Stevie-baby. You’re gonna have to let go if you want us to actually eat any of this.”

He grumbled low, breath warm against Eddie’s neck. “Don’t see why. Could just feed you from here.”

Eddie barked out a laugh, and Wayne chuckled into his coffee, shaking his head. “Boys.” He didn’t sound annoyed, though. If anything, his voice was softer than usual, like the sight of them tangled up like that did him some good.

Reluctantly, he peeled himself away, though not completely- his hand slid down to lace with Eddie’s, tugging him gently toward the table as he grabbed a plate. They sat side by side, knees bumping, shoulders brushing in the small space. He felt Eddie’s fingers squeeze once before releasing them to shovel eggs onto his toast.

Wayne watched them for a while as they settled into the meal. He wasn’t the kind of man to pry, not outright, but Steve felt his eyes on them- steady, quiet, like he was taking stock. Not just of their health, but of their happiness. It wasn’t judgemental. It was care, the one that went unsaid but was no less real in its silence.

Finally though, Wayne folded the paper back onto the table, plate half-finished, and cleared his throat. “So.. How you boys holdin’ up?” His gaze moved from Eddie to Steve, lingering for a second on the dark circles not yet healed under Steve’s eyes, then softening as it returned to Eddie’s wide-eyed, alert frame.

He hesitated, opening his mouth, but Eddie was, thankfully, quicker. “We’re good, old man. Better than we’ve been in a long time.” He nudged Steve under the table, his socked foot brushing his ankle. “Nightmares aside.”

Wayne nodded slowly, like that was about what he expected. He took another sip of coffee before setting the mug down with a quiet clink. “Well, I’m glad. You both deserve some peace. Just…” He paused, thumb rubbing at the side of his mug. “Just keep an eye out. Heard some talk on the radio las’ night.”

Eddie’s head tilted, wary. “What kind of talk?”

Wayne’s mouth pulled into a thin line. “Couple folks sayin’ they saw somethin’... Wrong.. Out near your old place, Steve. Sounded like out in the woods.” He shifted his paper further aside. “Could be nothin’, y’know how rumors run wild. But if there’s any truth to it.. Sounded an awful lot like those. Demogorgons.”

Eddie’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. He slowly let it down, grin dimming but not vanishing. “That’s… Not great.” He leaned back heavily, stretching his arms overhead before scrubbing both hands through his curls. “Guess we’ll steer clear of our honeymoon suite for a bit, huh, Stevie?”

He forced a small smile, though his chest felt tight again. “Yeah. Wasn’t on my list of approved vacation spots anyway.”

Wayne watched the exchange, eyes narrowing slightly, not in suspicion but concern. He leaned forward onto his elbows, voice coming steady. “I mean it. If you two head out that way- or anywhere- you be careful. If not for yourself than for me.. And not just because of whatever might crawl outta them woods.”

His gaze flickered briefly to their shoulders, still pressed together, at the edge of the table where he knew Steve’s hand was resting on Eddie’s knee under it. “I know you can take care o’ yourselves but… World’s not always kind to bots who get caught lookin’ at each other like you do. No matter what the paper says. And folks notice more than you think.”

The words landed gently, but they carried a heavy weight. Steve felt the tight grip return to his chest- old instincts, ones he’d always kept at the back of his mind. He ducked his head, but Eddie reached out like he’d known he would, curling his fingers around Steve’s wrist as a gentle presence.

“Don’t worry, old man.” Eddie’s voice was soft but sure. “We’ll be careful. I mean, I still got my reputation as the town freak to uphold anyway. Don’t think anyone’s gonna be shocked if I’m acting… Unconventional, ‘specially now.” His grin came back, sly and sharp, though it softened when his eyes flicked back toward Steve.

He snorted, shaking his head softly. “Yeah, that’s one way to put you.” He looked up at Wayne then, a faint smile tugging back at his lips despite the heaviness he felt weighing him down. “We’ll be alright. Promise.”

Wayne studied them for a long moment, before leaning back, nodding once, satisfied. “Good. That’s all I needed to hear.” He picked the newspaper back up, but not before Steve caught the quiet warmth in his eyes, the kind of pride Wayne didn’t wear on his sleeve but could never quite hide either.

Eddie bumped his knee again, and when he glanced over, he found a grin waiting- mischief and reassurance all tangled together. For the first time since he woke up, Steve felt his shoulders ease.

Breakfast wound down slowly, the three of them settling into the rhythm of clinking forks and the occasional rustle of paper. Wayne lingered, sipping at his coffee long after his plate was clean, but when Eddie started stacking dishes and Steve automatically followed to help, Wayne pushed back from the table with a grunt.

“I’ll be out in the garage.” He said, tugging on a light flannel. “Beemer needs some maintenance.” He clapped Eddie’s shoulder as he passed and let his hand rest on Steve’s arm just long enough for him to feel the warmth. Then he was gone, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

The kitchen fell quiet immediately, the air loosening around them. Eddie was half in the sink, sleeves shoved up as he rinsed plates, curls bouncing with each move. Steve leaned against the counter beside him, drying the first dish Eddie passed over. They worked like that for a few minutes, the silence companionable. Until he realized Eddie was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” He didn’t look up from the wet pan in his hand.

“Nothin’.” Eddie smirked, then tipped his head to one side. “Except you’ve been stickin’ to me like glue since you came downstairs. Which, don’t get me wrong, I love- barnacle is one of my favorite Steve Harrington modes- but…” His voice softened now. “You wanna tell me about it?”

He froze, towel hovering over the handle. His jaw tightened before he let out a slow, deep breath. “Same dream.. Again.”

Eddie set down the pan he’d been scrubbing, water still running. He turned, leaning a hip against the counter, arms folding across his chest. “The one on the rocks?”

“Yeah.” His voice was flat, but his eyes darted toward Eddie’s, then away again. “It’s getting.. Clearer, I guess. Every time. Like details are filling in that weren’t there before. It’s like.. It’s changing. I can hear things clearer. Smell things. Like it’s not just a dream anymore, it’s.. I don’t know. Real? Except, sometimes things are.. They change too much.” His hand tightened around the dish towel. “Except you-” His throat closed up, he couldn’t say it.

Eddie’s arms unfolded instantly, reaching out, fingers sliding over Steve’s wrists, stilling him from nearly ripping the towel. “Hey. Look at me.”

He did. Head lifting slowly.

“You said it yourself. It’s just a nightmare. That shit digs deep into our subconscious. Pulls from things we can’t even remember.” Eddie’s thumb brushed the inside of his wrists, calming. “I’m right here though. Flesh and blood, standing in front of you, makin’ eggs that are probably gonna give Wayne a heart attack with all the butter I put in them. I’m not gonna push you to your death, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere okay? You’re not losing me.”

He swallowed hard, something in his chest easing but not disappearing. “You were scared.. In the dream. Like.. Really scared. I think that’s… That’s what messed me up, every time. It’s.. Your fear.”

For once, Eddie didn’t try and joke it away. He leaned closer instead, pressing their foreheads together, curls brushing Steve’s cheek. His voice was quiet, almost serious enough to break. “‘Course I’m scared, sweetheart. Been scared a long damn time. Makes sense your subconscious would notice it too. But, now listen to me. I’ve never been scared of you. Never of us.”

Steve’s breath hitched, but slowly, he nodded, closing his eyes for a beat, soaking in the warmth that is Eddie- the scent of soap lingering on him, the faint smell of blood on his breath from earlier that morning. When he opened them again, Eddie was grinning, soft and crooked.

“Besides,” Eddie pulled back just enough to catch his eye again, “if I ever do push you off a cliff or something, you better well believe I’m falling right beside you. No way you’re leaving me to deal with all those kids alone.”

He barked out a laugh, startled, then shook his head. “You’re an idiot, Munson.”

“Mm, your idiot, Harrington.” Eddie winked, then nudged Steve toward the drying rack again. They finished the dishes quietly, the bond humming gently between them. When they were done, Eddie wrapped an arm around his waist gently, leading him over to the stairs. “C’mon. Upstairs with you darling. Gotta prove I’m not a figment of your subconscious or whatever.”

He let himself be pushed, but his hand found Eddie’s again, fingers lacing tight. He didn’t say it out loud, not sure he’d be able to finish the words without breaking down, but his grip said what he couldn’t: Don’t let go.

---

The rest of the morning slipped by in a haze of warmth and unhurried touches. Steve stretched out between Eddie’s legs, chest pressed tight to chest, the thrum of their quiet heartbeats syncing. Their mouths met often, sometimes in the slow brush of lips that barely lingered, other times in the deep heated kisses that stole Steve’s breath away.

Mostly though, it was gentle. Easy. Eddie’s fingers sliding beneath the hem of his shirt, warm palms smoothing lazily back up his back. His own hands wandering without thought- curling into the curls at Eddie’s nape, tracing along the sharp line of his jaw, skipping down over his ribs and hips like he couldn’t stop reminding himself that this was real. Their lips wandered too: the corners of smiles, the angle of a jaw, the soft slope of a throat, before always finding their way back to each other.

Every brush of touch and taste seemed to build on itself, leaning into a quiet rhythm that Steve never wanted to end. It was.. Comfortable. Intimate, but not frantic. The kind of closeness that filled the cracks inside him without demanding he explain them first.

He thought, fleetingly, that this was probably one of the best ways he’d ever spent a morning in his life. Then again- his lips tugged into a smile as Eddie’s thumb brushed soothing circles at his side- he realized he’d been thinking that exact same thing every morning he’d spent with Eddie.

His body felt light, loose, uncoiled in ways he didn’t recognize anymore. His mind was empty of the nightmare that usually lingered, quieted beneath the weight of Eddie’s warmth. And his chest- his chest was full in a way that shook him, the clarity of it almost frightening.

Because for the first time, Steve knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to say the words, the ones he’d had used against him before, the ones that had been shrugged off, returned with silence, thrown back in his face. Bullshit.

The ones that scared him almost as much as losing Eddie did.

He wanted to say them out loud, not just to himself, press them against Eddie’s lips between kisses, kiss them into skin in the morning sun with the smell of coffee still clinging faintly to their hair.

But he didn’t.

Not because he didn’t feel that. God, he felt them with every beat of his slow heart. But because the thought of messing this up- messing them up- tightened his throat until the words stayed locked inside.

They’d only been together for.. What? He did the math quickly in his head, chasing back through weeks of nights spent tangled up together, mornings like this one, little stolen glances across the training rooms. -Roughly four months now?- Just about. Give or take a few days, math wasn’t his strong suit. But it was four months of something that had changed everything.

He swallowed, pressing a softer kiss against Eddie’s lips like it could fill the space where the words ached to escape. Eddie hummed low in his chest, pulling him closer with one strong arm and tangling their legs tighter together, as if to say without words: I’ve got you. Always.

And maybe, he thought, maybe that was enough for right now.

---

Steve groaned awake from another nightmare, breath catching as if he’d just been dragged up from Lover’s Lake. Even after spending an entire day lounging around, just the two of them- soft touches, laughter muffled into shoulders- then the quiet night spent watching tv with Wayne. Hadn’t been enough to chase away the dreams.

He shifted with a soft huff, letting his head sink back down against Eddie’s chest, listening to the way his heartbeat slowly thudded beneath his ear, a calming rhythm. He let his gaze wander toward the curtains, where the faintest hint of gold threaded through the dark fabric, the first light of morning crawling into the room.

Talking with Doc yesterday helped. He’d said it made sense, that nightmares weren’t always random. They were threads, pulling fears together, weaving stories from the worst parts of the mind.

The hearts racing toward him- Doc thought those were his fear of being caught again, of being dragged back into the dark. The endless drop, Eddie’s hand being torn away- his fear of being pushed aside, left behind, of Eddie pushing him away. That one had Eddie nearly leaving bruises with how tight he’d held him.

But that sharp, echoing crack- God, he couldn’t even let himself think the word that went with it. He knew what it meant, but just brushing the thought made his chest ache, his throat tighten.

He distracted himself with movement, letting his fingers slowly walk across Eddie’s stomach in small, meandering patterns. Just enough to keep his hands busy, to stop the buzzing in his head from taking over. Eddie stirred faintly under his touch, shifting but not waking, curls tickling Steve’s forehead where they brushed down.

Last night, they’d called Nancy, Robin, and Jonathan. Eddie had dubbed their plan “The Grand Big Kids Get Together,” the name making Robin laugh so hard she snorted through the phone.

The plan was simple: head to his old house, get drunk, maybe smoke for the first time since they’d been turned, just… Be for a night. Steve did also want to show them all the work he’d been putting in- repairs, fresh paint, all the new furniture, showing them he’d been making it more of a home.

And because nothing could ever be simple with them, they’d also called Owens. Told him about the potential Demogorgon activity in the woods near his place.

Owens had promised to send a team out there, to keep watch on the area. Precaution, he said, nothing more. But when they’d mentioned the party, Owens had gone quiet, before agreeing to station another unit nearby- insurance. For a handful of kids who hadn’t been kids for a long time.

That of course, spiraled into a tense, awkward conversation. Steve had to ask if they could get some of the “drunk blood” he’d been given once before- something that still made him blush, remembering the heat of it sliding down his throat, how much he’d hated admitting afterward how good it felt.. How he hardly remembers breaking into Wayne’s kitchen.

Owens’s voice had been careful when he left them with the promise of “I’ll see what I can do. But, I’d like to try something else, if you’re willing.. I’ll have it delivered at the agreed time.” Then he’d hung up, leaving nothing but questions in his wake. Typical Owens, cryptic on a good day.

Steve let out a heavy sigh, slowly tracing a pattern along Eddie’s ribs. The Hellfire logo, his mind always brought him back there. He felt like he’d be sick the more he thought about it, nerves curling like barbed wire. He was supposed to be looking forward to tonight- his friends, his boyfriend, showing them both off- but all he could feel was pressure.

Hosting. Being “on” around everyone. Pretending like he wasn’t one step away from breaking under the weight of everything. Even if Eddie would be right there beside him, the thought made his eyes burn, tears threatening from feeling overwhelmed with it all. He wouldn’t be able to actually relax tonight.

He buried his face against Eddie’s chest, breathing him in. Subtle leather, shampoo Eddie kept stealing from him. It was grounding, it was comfort, but it wasn’t enough to stop the way his stomach churned.

And still, Eddie’s heartbeat kept slow and steady beneath his ear. A reminder. A tether.

Eddie stirred beneath him with the slow, reluctant kind of movement that meant he was clawing his way out of sleep. Steve felt the faintest brush at the edge of the bond first- a gentle poke, like someone caressing his cheek. Just enough to say hey, I’m here, are you?

A long hum followed, warm and scratchy with sleep, vibrating through Eddie’s chest right under his ear. He lifted his head just slightly, watching as Eddie’s lashes fluttered before his eyes cracked open, dark and bleary. He blinked once, twice, adjusting to the thin stripe of sunlight spilling through the curtains.

Then his hand moved- slow, uncoordinated at first, but purposeful. Fingers brushing across Steve’s temple, pushing the mess of hair from his eyes. The touch lingered a second longer than necessary, thumb stroking softly over his brow. Eddie’s voice came out rough, gravelly from sleep.

“Mm… What’s wrong, babe?”

He hesitated, chin coming to rest against Eddie’s chest. His eyes shifted down, tracing the faint freckles scattered across Eddie’s collarbone, focused on the way he slowly rose with Eddie’s breathing. When he finally looked back up and their eyes met, he knew he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.

“‘M just…” His mouth twisted, like he wasn’t really sure he wanted to say it. But looking at Eddie- still soft, still a little foggy, waking and immediately wanting to comfort him- made it easier somehow. “I’m nervous.. About tonight. Hosting, y’know?”

Eddie blinked slowly, like his brain was still catching up, then the corner of his mouth tugged upward. He lifted his free hand and, with two fingers, rapped twice against Steve’s forehead. A gentle tap-tap motion, like pushing a button.

He frowned lightly at the gesture, but Eddie only smiled wider, sleepily. “You think too much.” His voice was quiet but certain, threaded with affection. “There’s no need to play the perfect host, or any of that crap that’s flowing through your pretty little head.”

His lips parted ready to argue, but Eddie tapped his forehead again, just a little firmer this time.

“They’re coming over to hang out. To laugh, get drunk, maybe get high, and crash wherever they land. That’s it.” His words were quiet but sure, falling into the space between them. “No big grand gestures, no special skills needed. Just you, Stevie. That’s all anybody’s showing up for.”

He let out a soft huff, a mix between a laugh and a sigh, like he wanted to argue but didn’t quite have the energy for it. His brows pinches, uncertainty still flickering there.

Eddie’s fingers tapped against his forehead again- tap tap- with just enough playful insistence to make him roll his eyes.

“Understand?” Eddie asked, drawing the word out slow, teasing, but also earnest.

For a beat, he only looked up at him, mouth pressing thin, caught between embarrassment and fondness. Then, slowly, he nodded, leaning back down, cheek pressing against Eddie’s chest until his ear was right back over his heart.

“Yeah,” he murmured finally, quiet but clear. “I get it.”

“Good.” Eddie’s arms shifted to curl a little tighter around him, one hand coming to rest at the back of his head, fingers sifting lazily through his hair. “Because it’s too early for thought to be forming. Go back to sleep Stevie.” His chest rose and fell slowly again, a soft hum reverberating like he was already half drifting back into sleep, but still unwilling to let go.

The coil of nerves slowly eased from Steve’s chest. Just a little, as he wiggled down to get comfortable, letting his eyes slide shut. “Yeah.. Okay.”

---

But throughout the rest of the morning Steve’s nerves had only grown and grown, prickling under his skin like static that wouldn’t shake loose. Not even the time Wayne had dropped them off at his old house- muttering something about “better not break into the house again, got a key for a reason” before heading off to his shift at the plant.

But that had been over an hour ago, and he was vibrating with restless energy now. It was just starting to become mid afternoon, the sun slanting through the curtains, and he tried to focus on the dust motes drifting lazily in the air, but it didn’t stop the fidgeting.

He and Eddie had already dragged out pillows and blankets, tossing them onto the couches and the soft carpet to make the space more comfortable for later. It should have felt cozy, homey. Instead, Steve’s fingers kept finding the loose threads on his sleeve, plucking and twisting, his breaths coming quicker than normal. Not panicked. Just wound tight- nervous in a way that had his stomach rolling again.

That was when Eddie made a sound, breaking the silence they’d fallen into. A deep, guttural growl from deep in his chest that vibrated through the room and froze him where he stood.

Before he could blink, he was being shoved back against the wall, the thump echoing through the frame of the house. Eddie loomed over him, chest pressing lightly into his, arms bracketing on either side of his head. Caged in. Eddie’s eyes were wild- hungry, sharp… Like a man starved.

“Baby. Stevie. Sweetheart.” Eddie rasped, voice low and rough as gravel, his breath ghosting hot across his lips. “I’m very close- and I mean very close- to losing my patience.”

Steve’s pulse spiked.

“You’ve been acting like you’re waiting for an execution, not a party. That.” Eddie popped the t sharply, teeth flashing. “Is. E-” His voice cracked into a hiss, stretching the single letter. “-nough.” He broke the word in two, pressed their noses together, his forehead hard against Steve’s. His eyes burned.

“I’ve had enough of it. You need to relax. And either you calm down and realize there’s nothing to be worried about..” Eddie’s voice dropped into a dangerous purr. “Or I’ll make your head go empty until you can’t find a single thing in that pretty little mind of yours.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, chest jerking as air caught in his throat. A small, high whine slipped free despite how hard he tried to bite it back. “E… Eddie. You can’t just-”

He didn’t get to finish.

Eddie surged forward, crushing their mouths together in a bruising kiss that knocked the air from his lungs. The force of it made his head spin, his back arch off the wall as Eddie’s teeth caught his bottom lip and bit down, hard enough to sting. Copper bloomed across his tongue when the skin split for a moment before healing, but Eddie didn’t let him pull away- didn’t give him the chance.

Instead, he shoved his tongue into Steve’s mouth, rough, claiming.

He moaned, muffled and desperate, gripping at Eddie’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His knees felt weak, his chest feeling lighter with each greedy pull between them.

As soon as he tore his mouth away, Eddie moved down, teeth scraping along his jaw, dragging sharp over sensitive skin. He bit down again, just shy of cruel, enough to make Steve whimper and tilt his head back, offering more.

And Steve- God, he responded. Body arching, shuddering, his fingers clawing at Eddie’s sides as though he’d fall apart without the touch. Each scrape of teeth, every drag of Eddie’s tongue left him unraveling, breathless, shaking apart piece by piece in Eddie’s hands.

Just as suddenly as it had begun to crest into something heavier, Eddie pulled back. Just enough to make his eyes fly open, to leave his lips swollen and parted, breath ragged. Eddie stared down at him, pupils blown wide and dark, mouth still glistening.

“Calmed down yet?” Eddie all but growled between his teeth, voice thick and heavy, each word vibrating through Steve’s chest.

After taking a second to register the words, he shook his head slowly, lips trembling, pupils wide with want and anticipation. “N-No.” He whispered, though his hips betrayed him, jerking forward as though to close the distance, to get more.

But Eddie was faster.

His hands shot down like lightning, clamping tight over Steve’s hips and slamming them back against the wall before he could reach him. Steve let out a choked off sound, a mix of frustration and a plea.

Eddie looked away for only a second, eyes locking on the clock hanging crooked above the entryway. He stared, jaw working, weighing something silently. Then, with a single firm nod, he turned back, eyes feral, lips curling into something between a smirk and a snarl.

“You’ll get exactly what you need.” He promised, voice low and heavy, a growl meant for him to feel as much as hear.

And then he moved.

Strong arms slid under Steve’s thighs, hauling him up in one smooth motion that made Steve’s stomach drop. His gasp turned into a breathless moan as his legs instinctively wrapped around Eddie’s waist. Eddie’s grip was iron, hands locked at the curve of his hips, holding him in place as though he weighed nothing at all.

The world blurred around them as Eddie carried him down the hall, steps heavy, purposeful. Past his fathers old office, past a room he’d taken painstaking care in decorating the door now closed and waiting. He clung to Eddie, arms wrapped tight over his shoulders, heart hammering so loud he could feel it echo through his teeth.

Eddie didn’t slow until he reached a guest room at the end of the hall- door cracked half-open, sheets pulled clean and tight over a bed no one had ever slept in. He kicked the door wider, twisting them sideways to fit through the frame, and stepped inside without missing a beat.

Eddie didn’t bother with care. He prowled straight into the room, air charged with his low, vibrating growl, and then he tossed Steve down onto the bed like we weighed less than air.

Steve hit the mattress with a startled gasp, the unused sheets rumbling beneath him, his head bouncing lightly against a pillow.

“Eds-” His voice came shaky, too fast, head still too full.

But Eddie was already moving. He stalked forward with that predator’s grace, knees sinking into the mattress, shoulders tight, hair wild, eyes glowing like molten metal in the low light. He crawled up the bed, caging Steve in with his arms planted firm on either side of his head, looming over him.

“Gonna empty that pretty little head of y’ers.” Eddie promised, voice a rough rumble. “One way or another. Understood?”

Steve’s chest shuddered with a breath- half protest, half surrender- but it was stolen before it could form. Eddie crashed down into him with a kiss that stole air from his lungs. Fierce, consuming, all tongue and teeth, until he was clutching at Eddie’s shoulders, fingers digging into his shirt like he was drowning.

And then Eddie was moving again- fast, relentless. His mouth tore away to press against Steve’s cheeks, quick rough little kisses that made laughter bubble up breathlessly against his will. His nose, his jaw, a line of heat, claiming. Every touch was fast, forceful, designed to leave no space for thought.

Then he dipped lower, lips dragging over the strong line of Steve’s throat until he found the crook of his neck. He inhaled there, a long, deep breath, growling so low that Steve could feel it reverberate through his own chest. The sound made his toes curl, his breath hitch, his body arch closer without meaning to.

The growl deepened, turned darker, hungrier. And then Eddie let his fangs drop. The faint sharp scrape against tender skin sent a lightning-bolt jolt through Steve. The sound he let out was high, broken, keening- his back bowing off the bed, hips jerking, hands fisting tight into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie dragged his fangs lightly across the column of Steve’s throat, letting lines that seared like fire scorch into sensitive skin, they disappeared as quickly as they came. He did it again, slower this time, savoring in the shivers it pulled from Steve, the way his blunt nails scratched helplessly over Eddie’s scalp. And the way the bond sizzled between them as if the air itself had short-circuited.

“Mine.” Eddie rumbled, and before Steve would whine out a reply, he pressed his fangs down- not deep, not enough to drink, just enough to pierce not puncture. A sting, then a rush, twin spots of heat beading as tiny pinpricks of blood rose to the surface.

His mind went white. Nothing but a wave of sensation, the heavy throb of blood, the bond singing loud and incessant between them. Every thought, every little worry, every ghost of his nightmare burned away, leaving only Eddie’s growl, Eddie’s claim, -Eddie-.

He gasped out something wordless, eyes rolling back, lips falling open as he clung tighter, the world narrowing to nothing but the scratch of fangs and the hot rush of being marked, owned, emptied.

Eddie didn’t push his fangs any further. Didn’t try to drink. Because this wasn’t about hunger, it was about Steve. About stripping away every tight coil of tension that was eating him alive for days. Slowly, his fangs pulled back, leaving only the slow ooze of blood welling, which he licked away with deliberate care, tongue broad and slow, sealing the wounds as he hummed low in his throat.

Steve let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a sob. His arms went slack, sliding through Eddie’s hair as his chest heaved up into the weight above him. The fight finally bled out, all that nervous energy dissolving until he was nothing but pliant, trembling limbs beneath Eddie’s hands.

“Yeah,” Eddie muttered against his skin, voice wicked and satisfied, a smirk curling at his lips as they pressed to the hollow of Steve’s throat. “Thats it, sweetheart. That’s what I want.”

His head lolled against the pillow, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. His fingers twitched where they’d slid down Eddie’s back, like they were trying to remember what they’d meant to hold onto.

Eddie grinned wider into his skin, inhaling the dizzying scent of his Stevie undone like this- warmth, salt, the heady tang of blood. He shifted, pressing his chest firmly to Steve’s, hips slotting down against his without thought.

The jolt of contact pulled a breathless whine from Steve’s throat, high and desperate. His legs tightened instinctively around Eddie’s waist, dragging him closer, grinding them together with a shuddering weak arch of his back.

“O-Oh, fuck.” His voice cracked, the sound raw, startled at his own desperation.

Eddie laughed into his neck, low and wicked, before dragging his teeth- blunt now- up along Steve’s jaw. “There’s my sweet boy.” He rasped, thrusting down slow and firm enough that Steve’s head tipped back, lips parting on another whimper. “That’s it. Don’t think, baby. Just feel.”

Steve nodded frantically, though the motion was jerky, almost dazed, eyes fluttering closed as another broken sound tore from his throat. He was trembling, no longer from fear or anxiety- every line of him shook from the overload of feelings, from how thoroughly Eddie could take him apart with a few simple touches.

Each grind, every slow drag of heat against him, left him feeling looser, almost boneless, his body slowly surrendering to the rhythm Eddie set. His hands finally remembered they could move, sliding around to fist into Eddie’s shirt, not to push him away but to pull him closer, hold him there, keep him moving.

Eddie smirked again, biting lightly at Steve’s ear just to hear the sharp gasp it tore out of him. “Good boy,” he murmured, voice gone gavel thick. “Look at you- practically melting for me. Can’t even hold yourself together, can you?”

He could only shake his head, helpless, head empty. The wordless noises that left him were almost answering for him.

And Eddie- he drank in every sound, every twitch, every desperate grind into him. His wicked grin softening only slightly, more awe than mocking as he kept him right there- pinned, trembling, but finally calm, finally clear, finally his.

Suddenly, Eddie picked up the pace, hips rolling faster, pressing harder, the rhythm grinding into something hungrier. Every push dragged another sharp breathless sound out of Steve until his voice gave up entirely.

Steve’s mouth opened, jaw slack, throat working soundlessly as the sensations rolled over him too fast to keep up. His claws- he could never fully control them at times like these- slipped free and dug straight through the cotton of Eddie’s shirt. The fabric stretched and split under his grip, puncturing skin as his hand clamped down.

The sting didn’t register to Eddie; if anything, the sound of it tearing only spurred him on. A low, deep guttural growl rumbled out of his chest as he surged down again, capturing Steve’s mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger, desperate and consuming. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was claiming.

He whimpered into it, body arching up unrestrained. But Eddie pushed his weight down, pressing him flat back down. His hips jerked erratically like he couldn’t decide whether to meet Eddie’s thrusts or just let himself drown in them.

And then- he fell apart.

His entire body went taut, legs trembling as they kicked out trying to find purchase, yanking harder on the shirt in front of him. His claws sunk deeper as his head was thrown back into the pillow was a strangled gasp that never fully made it into sound. His body shook through it, all control ripped away, mind stripped blank in the overwhelming white-hot rush that tore through him.

The scent hit the room instantly- sharp, heady, thick. Steve, undone, laid bare in every sense. It rolled over Eddie like a blanket, flooding his senses until his own control snapped tight around the edges. His fangs ached, dropping again, desperate to sink into the pulse hammering so sweetly beneath Steve’s neck. He hovered there, teeth bared against the pale throat, breath harsh as he fought down the urge.

Instead, his hand came up, wrapping firmly around Steve’s throat- not squeezing, not cutting off air, just holding. Owning. His thumb tracing the soft skin beneath Steve’s chin, stroking slowly even as the rest of him moved rough and fast, chasing his own pleasure through the lingering tremors of Steve’s release.

Steve’s body answered without permission, still trembling, still in the throes of pleasure, every drag of Eddie’s hips sending a new never ending wave shuddering through him. He keened, broken and helpless, nails raking as Eddie rolled his hips faster, harder, deep growls vibrating against his skin with every ragged press of lips and teeth to his jaw, his neck, the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie.” Eddie rasped, voice so low it was almost lost in the noises still slipping free from Steve. His pace faltered only once, body tensing, before he snapped forward again, burying his face against Steve’s throat like he could fuse them together. His growling broke into something rougher, more desperate, as he drove himself over the edge, the room becoming thick with the mingling scents of them both.

Through it all, his grip never left Steve’s throat, thumb still stroking beneath his chin- shakily, but gentle. A tether against the feral edge threatening to pull him under again.

Steve shook beneath him, spent and blissed, the last of his whimpers spilling weakly from his lips. And Eddie- Eddie pressed his mouth tight against the pulse fluttering under his fangs, eyes squeezed shut as he held himself there, fighting down the bite he still ached for, clinging instead to the feeling of Steve completely undone beneath him.

---

He smiled weakly up at Eddie, laying boneless, eyes barely open as a warm washcloth ran over his now bare skin. “Mm.” He hummed as Eddie moved up to dab it lightly over his bloodied neck, the urge to bite having been too strong to ignore.

“Mm- ‘else ‘ce.” He mumbled, lips feeling too heavy to properly form words, tongue sluggish as if it didn’t quite belong to him.

Eddie let out a rough chuckle, one of those low, chest-deep sounds that vibrated through the bond. Leaning down, Eddie pressed a soft kiss into his sweat-damp hair. “You’re lucky I can feel how good you feel, sweetheart. Else I’d have no idea what you just tried to say.” His voice was still rough, but there was a warmth in it. He dragged the cloth gently over Steve’s chest in careful strokes, as though reverence alone could coax away every still healing mark. “You feelin’ good, Stevie? No more pesky thoughts holding you down?... It wasn’t too much was it?”

“Nu-uh.” Steve managed a small weak shake of his head, lashes heavy, barely parting enough to watch Eddie through slits. His entire body felt like taffy, stretched and softened into nothing but trust. “Mm.. Was nice… Like when you.. Bite me.” His words slurred together, muffled as he rubbed his cheek into the pillow, enjoying the feel against his skin. “‘S nice. Feel nice.”

Something soft and unguarded passed over Eddie’s face, his sharp grin slipping into something gentler. He leaned down to press a kiss into Steve’s other cheek, lingering there, just breathing him in. “Glad you hear.” His thumb brushed the edge of Steve’s jaw, calloused and tender, steady and slow. “It’s gonna be a while before anyone shows up. How about you take a little nap, yeah?”

He hummed in agreement, the sound barely audible, like a cat’s purr rumbling low. His eyes finally surrendered, too heavy to hold open. “M, ‘kay. Not… Too long. Wake me?” His voice cracked at the end, but the plea was clear even in its softness.

“Yeah, baby. I’ll wake you.”

Another soft kiss followed, this one pressed into the crown of his head, lips lingering in his hair. Eddie’s free hand smoothed down his back, following the curve of his spine with lazy affection. He gave a small puff of breath, a sigh more than anything, and melted further into the sheets.

Eddie stayed where he was for a moment longer, washcloth resting idle in his hand as he watched Steve’s lashes flutter, his breath already evening out. The sight tugged at something deep in his chest, softer and sharper than anything that had just happened. He brushed the damp edge of the cloth down Steve’s arm, gentle as a breeze, wiping away the sheen of sweat that still clung to his skin.

“Good boy.” Eddie murmured under his breath, not really intending for Steve to hear it, though his lips quirked when Steve made a faint noise that could’ve been an exhausted hum.

The washcloth dipped back into the bowl of water Eddie has grabbed from the adjoining bathroom, steam long gone but still warm enough to soothe. He wrung it out carefully, not letting the sound of dripping water disturb the quiet, then folded it neatly and pressed it to Steve’s chest again.

He moved slowly, reverently, following every line of him as though memorizing it all over again- the slope of Steve’s shoulder, the faint rise and fall of his ribs, the dip of his stomach. Lower and lower, leaving not an inch untouched.

Steve twitched faintly at the touch of his thigh, not in protest, but almost curling toward it. His mouth moved while his eyes stayed closed, words heavy and slurred. “Mm. ‘Eels… ‘Od.”

Eddie smiled softly, as he bent down to gently kiss the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Yeah, I know sweetheart. Just get some rest and let me get you clean.”

But there was no answer, and by the time the cloth had made its last pass, he’d stopped leaning into it, sinking into a content rest, pliant and utterly spent. Eddie set the washcloth aside, wiped his damp palms on another towel, then brought it all back to the bathroom.

Eddie was quiet as he came back over, pulling the blankets gently over Steve’s bare body, tucking them close at his side. He reached up and gently pushed some hair from Steve’s forehead, leaning down to place another soft kiss there.

He lingered at the edge of the bed for a beat, just watching- the barely there rhythm of Steve’s breathing, getting slower as he fell deeper into sleep, the slack softness of his mouth, the rough healing bites across his neck already fading into nothing. That part still made Eddie’s chest ache- how Steve begged for it, leaned into it, how his mouth would turn sinful until he got his wish. How Steve gave him every ounce of trust he had.

Unwilling to be apart any longer, he slid back onto the bed, careful not to jostle him, and settled on his side, watching. He slipped an arm under Steve’s pillow, drawing him close so Steve’s cheek pressed against his chest again. Steve shifted unconsciously, chasing the warmth, a sigh pressing against Eddie’s shred open shirt.

“Yeah, there you go.” Eddie whispered, resting his chin on Steve’s hair. He stroked lazy patterns down his back with blunt nails, feeling every muscle loose and unguarded beneath his touch. “Head empty. Nothing to worry about now.”

Steve made a faint noise- a mix between a hum and a whine- that trailed back off into slow, even breathing. Eddie tightened his hold just a little, a protective curl of his body around Steve’s, as if trying to ward off any potential nightmares.

The room had gone quiet except for them- Steve’s soft breathing, Eddie’s slowing to match his, hand never stopping its gentle rhythm over Steve’s back. The tick of the old clock down the hall, the distant creak of the house settling, it was peaceful.

“You’re safe, Stevie.” He murmured against his hair. “Got you. Always got you.” As if in answer, Steve burrowed closer into his chest, boneless and utterly at peace. Eddie let out a soft sigh, content to keep watch, to keep Steve safe from his own mind.

---

“C’mon baby, gonna need to open those pretty eyes of yours soon.” Eddie’s soft voice cut through the haze of sleep.

“Mm.” He groaned, burying his face stubbornly against the solid warmth of… Eddie’s chest? His lashes fluttered, heavy but finally lifting just enough to squint up at him. “How long was I-” His voice was rough as he broke off with a yawn so wide it popped his jaw, making Eddie chuckle.

“Just a little over two hours.” Eddie’s fingers threaded gently through Steve’s hair, slow and soothing. “But I thought we could use a shower and clean up a bit before everyone gets here.”

He blinked blearily, brain working to catch up to the words. “Two.. Hours?” He repeated, sounding somewhere between dazed and faintly horrified.

“Relax, Sleeping Beauty.” Eddie teased, brushing his thumb along Steve’s cheekbone. “Still got plenty of time. Just wanted some extra time to hold you hostage is all.” He dipped forward to steal a quick kiss, lips feather-light compared to earlier.

That finally earned him a small huff of laughter. “Mm. Fine. Shower sounds good.” He let Eddie coax him upright, limbs loose and heavy, body still humming with that sated afterglow.

They moved slowly, together, Eddie taking most of his weight as they moved down the hall then up the stairs, not bothering to put any clothes on. Their shower was quick- at least compared to their usual habit of Steve dropping to his knees or Eddie lingering under the hot spray until the water ran cold.

Eddie was efficient this time, running soapy hands over Steve’s shoulders, chest, down his arms, while Steve tipped his head back and let the water comb through his hair. Their touches were gentle but familiar, washing away the sweat and blood and anything that had been missed with the washcloth. No games, no tension, just quiet care.

By the time they stepped out, steam rolling out around them, Steve felt clearer, more himself. Eddie tossed him a towel, then tugged his curls back with another, wringing water out before hanging it up, sauntering back into the room to tug on a clean band tee and a pair of black jeans.

He followed suit, drying his hair before going back into his bedroom to dig for something comfortable. He settled on an old dark green sweater and a pair of light sweatpants. It felt strange, almost indulgent, to be wearing comfortable clothes and be able to relax, knowing they weren’t about to have to fight for their lives with the soldiers patrolling nearby.

After dressing they, together, padded back down to the living room. He took stock of the pillows they’d thrown around, blankets draped haphazardly from when they’d been trying to set up earlier.

He ran a hand through his still-damp hair and set to work, folding blankets neatly over the back of the couches, plumping pillows back into something that looked inviting instead of chaotic. Eddie went to the kitchen, pulling out chips and different snacks before coming back to set them on the coffee table with a lazy whistle. But he always kept an eye on Steve, making sure he didn’t start to fall back into his head.

By the time they’d finished the room looked nearly as comfortable as Steve planned it to be, not perfect, but homey, just like he’d wanted. So now he moved around to prop open certain doors and lock others, not wanting them to see the unfinished rooms until he was ready.

Then he came upon the guest room again, hand stilling on the knob. Curiosity tugged at him, and with a faint groan he pushed it open.

The sight that greeted him had him pinching the bridge of his nose muttering, “Jesus Christ.” The sheets were rumpled and ripped beyond saving, the pillows half off the bed, two of them looking shredded by claws though he hoped it was just their cases. The metallic tang of blood he could still practically taste hung in the air even after Eddie had cleaned them up. But the overwhelming smell of sex of them was thick in the back of his throat.

The space was a mess. A sharp contrast to the rest of the house they’d just finished getting into shape.

He stood there for all of three seconds before deciding it wasn’t worth the mental energy. He pulled the door shut with a decisive click and locked it, pressing the key into his pocket. “Future us problem.” He muttered under his breath, turning on his heels.

In the kitchen, Eddie was leaning against the counter, drying his hands on a dish towel. He raised a brow at Steve’s expression, smirk tugging at his lips. “What, don’t like my redecorating in there?”

“Don’t even start.” He shot back, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. He gulped down half before adding, with a sight. “We’re pretending that room doesn’t exist until further notice.”

Eddie laughed, low but pleased, and pushed off the counter to meet him at the sink. He plucked the glass from Steve’s hand to finish the rest himself, then set it aside with a quiet clink. “Fair enough. Let the mystery room stay mysterious to our esteemed guests.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled faintly, tension easing from his shoulders as Eddie looped an arm casually around his waist.

They wound up ordering pizzas- their first interaction back with the town hearts hammering as they did- that arrived just before everyone else did.

When the driver showed up with eight boxes, he froze seeing the both of them standing there, side by side in the doorway. Steve braced himself for a flicker of unease or the scent of disgust, but it never came. The guy blinked once, twice, then shook his head quickly as if to clear it.

But it wasn’t fear they saw in his eyes. It was recognition- something heavier, kinder.

He waved his hand when Eddie tried reaching for his wallet, refusing the money outright. “No, no- it’s on me.” He insisted, voice rough with sincerity. “I got a little brother who’s crazy about D&D. He was ten then, could’ve just as easily been him Carver went after back then.” He shifted the stack of boxes in his arms, meeting both their eyes in turn. “You two… You’re the Heroes of Hawkins. Don’t forget it.”

And with that, he pressed the pizzas into Steve’s arms and walked off before either of them could manage more than a stunned, “Uh- thanks?”

Steve stood there dumbly with four boxes balanced against his chest, Eddie taking the other half. They stared at each other, wide-eyed as the door shut, until Eddie snorted, almost disbelieving. “Heroes of Hawkins? Us?”

He blinked, shook his head, then let out a laugh that felt a little too shaky. “What the hell just happened?”

They were still dazed when the knock came at the front door. Eddie, still grinning, went to answer it. He swung the door wide and dipped into an over-the-top bow, curls bouncing as he swept his arm out theatrically. “My ladies,” he intones with mock gravity, “please do come into Stevie’s humble abode.”

Nancy’s laugh slipped out, soft and genuine, her hand coming to cover her smile. Robin only rolled her eyes, muttering, “Dumbass”, but she was smiling as she brushed past him, already making a beeline for Steve. She flung her arms around him in a hug so tight it startled a laugh out of him, free hand curling around her back to squeeze as gently as he could in return.

Behind them, headlights cut across the window. Jonathan’s car pulling up the driveway just as the door was closing. Eddie threw it open again seconds later, same dramatic bow, this time with a flourishing gesture toward the entryway. Jonathan grinned faintly, hoisting his bag higher on his shoulder as he stepped inside. “You don’t have to roll out the red carpet just for me, man.”

“Munson.” Eddie quipped, shutting the door with his hip. “And I would if we had one.”

Steve ushered them toward the living room, moving the pizza boxes neatly on the coffee table as he pointed things out. The new paint, newly hung curtains, the carpet Wayne did. His voice grew more confident as he spoke, pride slowly bleeding through the nerves. By the time Robin sank into one of the couches with a low whistle- “Well damn, Steve, this place doesn’t even look close to that museum anymore.”- Steve’s smile had widened into something easy and bright.

“I’ll give you all a full tour after we eat.” He promised, sliding the boxes open.

Which, of course, was exactly what they did. Plates were passed around, boxes pushed around until everyone had theirs. Jonathan took his own, quietly thanking Steve for remembering he liked half mushrooms. Nancy took another, enjoying her extra pepperoni with a pleased hum. Robin also had her own, which she was currently picking the black olives off a slice and piling them onto another.

He and Eddie shared a box between them, hands brushing when they both reached for a slice at the same time. The remaining boxes were pushed neatly to the side for later, the smell of melted cheese and happiness filling the air.

Between bites, Steve told them about the delivery driver- the awkward moment, the strange but heartfelt thanks. How he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Robin, mid-chew, shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Not surprised. More than half this town owes you both an apology. ‘Specially you Munson.”

Jonathan nodded in quiet agreement, pulling a string of cheese off another slice. It was Nancy who leaned forward, voice thoughtful. “A lot of people have been.. Rethinking things, especially after the newest story. You were blamed for something that wasn’t your fault, Eddie. And everyone knows it now. They’ve seen the fallout, the ‘truth’ about Carver. People don’t forget things like that. They feel guilty.”

Eddie snorted, biting into another slice, but he didn’t argue. Steve watched him out of the corner of his eyes, catching the way Eddie’s shoulders eased a fraction, like Nancy’s words weren’t just facts but a kind of absolution.

Conversation began to scatter, as it always did with them.

Robin launching into some story about work, Jonathan quietly asking about the renovations again. Nancy pressing Eddie for details about their bond. And through it all, Steve found himself breathing easier, soaking in the warmth of the moment- their laughter, the faint rustle of paper plates, the scent of pizzas, and the sharp but steady thrum of Eddie at his side.

---

The delivery from Owens came right after dinner, hand delivered by several soldiers who promised to keep sharp eyes on the area. They didn’t smell of lies or fear, and that helped ease both his and Eddie’s shoulders, just a little.

The soldiers moved with efficiency, setting down box after box into the kitchen until the island was covered in stacked cardboard. It would’ve been intimidating if it wasn’t so absurd- Eddie counted under his breath and let out a low whistle, muttering something about Owens running his own underground Costco.

Once the last of the men left, the house fell into a quiet hush again as they stood off to the side, looking almost comical in their surprise. “We.. Just asked for a little.” Steve mumbled, leaning against the counter, eyeing the pile warily, while Eddie prowled forward with thinly veiled curiosity.

It was then that Robin, sharp-eyed as ever, noticed the folded piece of paper taped to one of the boxes. “Uh, Steve? Think that one’s yours.”

He walked over to see what she was talking about, brows furrowing as he reached up and peeled the note free, fingers tugging at the tape before nervously opening the paper. “Great. Homework.” He muttered, but his voice softened as he started to read it aloud.

“Steve, as requested, in the boxes I’ve gone ahead and labeled as One and Two is the ‘Drunk Blood’ as you put it. However, I have also taken the liberty of securing other methods of which I am hoping can aid in your een- end-...” He stumbled over the word, cheeks heating when Eddie gave him a crooked grin. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Hoping can aid in you.. Endaver.. To lead a normal life.”

Robin was already hiding a laugh behind her hand. Not at his stumble, but as she remembered a joke he made about ‘a normal life’.

He shot her a glare before hurrying on. “In boxes Three and Four you will find some very- he underlined it here guys- hard liquor, most certainly not legal to be brewed or distributed by humans, but the lab has never quite operated under the law, so why bother with legalities for this?”

“Now we’re talking.” Eddie cut in, already prying open box Three. He pulled out one of the multiple mason jars filled with something that looked like water, but even closed it smelled sharp enough to strip paint. His nose wrinkled, but his eyes lit up. “Moonshine. Mad scientist moonshine.”

Steve scanned the letter again. “He underlined this next part several times. Says, and I quote: ‘I cannot stress this enough. That you do not let any human have more than a shot at a time. It is incredibly strong and too much may very likely kill someone. So please, do be careful’.”

“Cool, so this is how the famous, King Steve’s, parties evolved into death traps.” Robin deadpanned, though her eyes crinkled with her barely contained laugh, sliding a box open just to peak.

Eddie snorted, putting the jaw back down with exaggerated care. “Relax, Buckley. We’ll keep the human-killer hooch away from you.”

Steve continued, ignoring them as his eyes scanned back to the paper. “Boxes Five and Six contain a mixture that I thought may work for you. It is essentially, regular blood and normal alcohol mixed together. There is a bit more to it to try and make sure it works but that isn’t something I wish to write down, if you’d like to see me afterward I can disclose all of it to you both.”

Eddie’s brows arched. “Vampire cocktails.. Knew the guy was on our side.”

He shook his head, but pressed on. “Boxes Seven and Eight contain… Uh…” He squinted, reading over the line twice. “Oh…” He glanced up at Eddie before quickly continuing. “Boxes Seven and Eight contain what I can only assume you’d dub, ‘High Blood’. As you said you are uncertain if marijuana-” Eddie snickered here. “-would affect either of you, I thought it best to have some options just in case.”

“Wait, wait-” Robin leaned forward, eyes wide. “Are you telling me, Owens.. Cooked up drinkable vampire weed? That’s a thing now?!”

“Apparently.” He muttered, flipping the page.

The letter was running out of space, Owen’s handwriting squeezing tighter near the end. “Now, boxes Nine and Ten just contain an assortment of regular, human-safe alcohol as a gift to you all. It also had, what I believe to be an appropriate amount of marijuana- based on several sources suggestions- for three humans and an estimated amount on two vampires consumptions, to get you all quite high on, just in case.” His voice faltered when Eddie cracked open box Ten and a heavy, thick scent rolled out, filling the kitchen instantly.

Robin wrinkled her nose, waving a hand in front of her face. “Jesus, you could get high just standing near that thing, how much did he think we’d smoke?”

He opened and closed his mouth, before forcing himself to finish the letter, scent lingering to him and Eddie even after it dissipated for the others. “Um.. Clearly labeled in there, I have included something of, I suppose it’s my own creation really…”

He scanned the rest of the letter. “Basically he says it had all the components that normally get a human high, but very concentrated. Said it’ll get a normal human almost incredibly high, if it works, and it may just work like normal on us.. Says he doesn’t know if it will work, but he thinks it’s worth testing.”

“He says… Uh..” He skimmed the rest of the letter, then sighed. “He apologizes for the sheer number of what he’s sent but he doesn’t expect us to finish it all and wishes to see how some of his ‘creations’ last over time… Then he apologizes saying the papers running out he wishes he could include more… Let me know your thoughts on whatever you’re willing to try. The best, Dr. Sam Owens.”

Silence settled over them.

The letter fluttered shut as he folded it carefully, setting it on the counter just to have something to do. The kitchen island was a fortress of boxes, stacked like bricks, the air thick with overlapping scents- sharp liquor, the tang of iron, weed, paper, and the left over gun oil of soldiers.

“Well,” Eddie finally drawled out, leaning back on his heels with his arms crossed. “I don’t know about you guys, but I think Santa Claus just put us all on the naughty list.”

Robin barked out a laugh. Nancy, who’d been silent until now, shook her head slowly, lips pressed together like she couldn’t quite decide if she was horrified or impressed. Jonathan let out a low whistle, mumbling out, “Guess I don’t need to run back to my car now.”

Steve dragged a hand down his face. “Owens just turned my kitchen into a pharmacy. What the hell are we supposed to do with all this?”

“Test it.” Eddie said immediately, grin sharp. “We test the hell out of it. All of it.”

“Not tonight.” He shot back, too quickly, chest tight with the thought of what could happen. Too many options. Too many risks. And too many eyes on him.

Robin flopped against the counter, snagging a breadstick from a pizza box. “So let me get this straight. We’ve got: drunk blood, high blood, vampire hooch, bloody liquor, both superweed and regular, and enough snacks for the literal army outside? And you don’t want to test it all tonight? I mean.. We had a lot of fun testing the drunk blood. Imagine what we can do now!”

That earned her a chorus of snorts and chuckles, tension easing just a little.

But Steve’s gaze lingered on the boxes- the carefully labeled lids, the weight of Owens’s words pressing in on him. Every single carton represented choice. Control. A chance of something close to normal, even if it came bottled, jarred, or shrink-wrapped.

And for the first time in years, he let himself believe maybe, just maybe, normal was something they could have. It looked different from everyone else’s. Wine became blood. Whiskey became moonshine. Something new for them. But normal.

“Alright.” He finally decided, nodding to himself. “Fuck it. Let’s test it out.”

---

“‘S nice.” Eddie murmured, lips wrapped around the end of a joint. He took a long drag, holding it before slowly exhaling in a lazy breath. Smoke curled up toward the ceiling, hazy ribbons that softened the room’s edges. Sprawled out on the far couch, he looked perfectly at home, arms loose, one behind his head, content.

Steve, however, was anything but still. Draped across Eddie, his body shifting constantly, restless in a way the haze couldn’t quite smother. His cheek rubbed against Eddie’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded and dreamy as his fingers wandered in slow, unsteady steps across Eddie’s chest. “Mhm,” he muttered, voice low and almost slurring. “Owens makes nice things. Good things.”

On the middle couch, Robin was slouched against Nancy, knees pulled up, shoulders loose. Their third joint glowed faintly between them, the ember flaring bright whenever one of them took a hit. They’d been locked in a giggle-loop for the last fifteen minutes, each fresh puff apparently making their “math” more hilarious.

“Okay-” Robin giggled out another laugh, nearly dropping the joint into Nancy’s lap. “So if one of ours equals… Like.. Half of theirs? Or maybe.. A quarter? Then, technically, we’re had- what- twelve? No, wait.. Don’t look at me like that, Wheeler! I’m mathing!”

Nancy giggled helplessly, the sound uncharacteristically light. She leaned her head back against the couch cushion, eyes glassy with amusement as she caught the joint before Robin dropped it again. “You’re insane.. And wrong.. So wrong.” She murmured, but her grin gave her away.

Jonathan was angled, leaning against the armrest of the middle as well, close to Steve and Eddie. His head tilted over the back of the couch, staring up. His voice, when it came, was slow, every word stretched like taffy. “Gotta give it to him.” He said, raising his own smoke lazily in salute toward the kitchen before taking another hit. He exhaled slow, watching the smoke drift before he continued. “Owens sent some good stuff.”

“Yeah he did!” Robin nearly shouted, vibrating with enthusiasm before promptly toppling sideways into Nancy’s shoulder, sending both of them into another round of laughter.

Eddie let out a low, genuine laugh of his own. “You guys are hopeless.” He drawled, voice warm, smoke-roughened.

Steve didn’t laugh. He only hummed, distracted, rubbing his cheek into Eddie’s shoulder like a cat marking its territory. His fingers had traveled lower now, brushing over the soft dip of Eddie’s stomach, teasing at the hem of his shirt before sneaking under it. He toyed at the edge of Eddie’s jeans, touch lingering just shy of inappropriate.

To anyone else, it looked casual. Just Steve being loving with his boyfriend. But Eddie felt his giddiness through the bond with every tiny twitch. He turned his head slightly, voice pitched low so no one else could hear. “What’cha doing over there, Stevie?”

Steve’s lips curved lazily, though his eyes stayed heavy-lidded, looking down at his hand. “Mm.. Touchin’ you.” He mumbled just as quiet, the words drawn out in a slow, almost childlike cadence. His index finger snaked just under the waistband of the jeans, wiggling there like he was testing how far he could go.

Eddie hidden softly through his teeth, hand darting down to cover Steve’s. “Sweetheart…” His voice came out both a growl and a laugh at once. “As much as I love how insatiable you are sometimes, we’re in plain view of our friends.”

He grumbled into Eddie’s shoulder, words muffled, unintelligible, but his frustration was clear. He pressed in closer, lips grazing Eddie’s shirt in a pout.

“What was that?” Eddie asked softly, leaning down enough for his curls to brush Steve’s cheek.

“Just wanna touch you.” He finally admitted, voice husky with smoke and want. His fingers tried to wiggle under Eddie’s palm, but the hand held firm. “Eddieee.” He whined.

Eddie’s chest shook with a quiet laugh, but this one was softer, almost pleased. He turned his head, pressing a quick kiss into Steve’s hairline. “You’re killing me, Harrington. Absolutely killing me.”

He hummed, the sound vibrating against Eddie’s chest as he nestled in closer, clearly not intending to stop. “Already dead… Told you.”

“That you did, sweetheart.”

On the other couch, Robin broke into another fit of giggles, Nancy’s soft laughter rising alongside it. Jonathan shifted, crunching on another Dorito, blissfully relaxed.

None of them seemed to notice Steve’s wandering hand- or maybe they just didn’t care.

And Eddie, for all his warnings, couldn’t bring himself to shove Steve away. Instead, he stroked his thumb gently over the back of Steve’s hand, keeping him mostly in check while letting him cling as close as he wanted.

He was humming gently against Eddie’s chest, fingers twitching restlessly under the waistband. It was like his body didn’t know how to be still anymore, every nerve humming like someone had lit a slow fuse in his blood. The weed didn’t calm him the way it did Eddie or Jonathan. It made him needy. Loose-limbed, clingy, desperate in a way he wasn’t even trying to hide.

Or maybe he was always this way and tried his best not to show it, afraid he’d be too much.

Eddie could feel it now. Every wiggle of Steve’s hips, every glide of his fingers skating far lower than he should’ve allowed. His patience was holding by a thread, and the only thing keeping him from flipping Steve back against the couch and giving their friends a show was the fact that- well- Robin was still cackling about fractions two feet away.

But Steve was slippery when he wanted something.

Without warning, he pushed up onto his elbows, blinking slow like it took all his focus just to sit upright. Eddie tilted his head, watching him with narrowed eyes. “Stevie. Don’t you-”

Too late. He shifted and swung a leg across, moving to straddle Eddie’s lap with all the grace of a tipsy cat. Eddie’s breath hitched, hands instinctively gripping Steve’s thighs to steady him.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie muttered under his breath, trying not to notice how perfectly Steve’s weight settled down against him.

He didn’t give a response, eyes locking on the joint burning low between Eddie’s fingers. He leaned forward, cheek brushing Eddie’s as he dipped in, lips wrapping soft around the end and one of his fingers. Eddie’s breath caught again at the intimacy of it.

He sucked in slowly, eyes sliding shut. The end flared bright. Then he held it, chest expanding as smoke filled his lungs. Then, instead of pulling away, he leaned forward again, closer, until his lips ghosted against Eddie’s.

Eddie’s eyes widened just as he exhaled, the smoke leaving his lungs only to spill into Eddie’s mouth in a lazy, purposeful kiss. The burn, the sweetness of it, mixed with the taste of Steve.

When they finally broke apart, Eddie was blinking rapidly, trying to ignore the pleasure curling low in his gut. Steve smiled down at him- soft at first, sleepy, sweet. Then it shifted. Wicked. His hands came up, cupping Eddie’s jaw in both palms, and he leaned in again, this time the kiss was deep, hungry.

But it started slow, quickly turning into a heavy pull that demanded Eddie’s full attention. Steve pressed close, tongue teasing, lips parting. His entire body seeming to sigh into Eddie’s, loose, needy, and warm.

They’d started to forget where they were, who they were around. Until, of course, Robin’s voice cut through, sharp and delighted. “Woooo!” She howled, clapping her hands together. “Get it, Steve!”

Nancy laughed next, cheeks pink, calling out, “About time!”

Jonathan, who had been reclined peacefully, cracked one eye open just in time to see Steve rolling his hips down into Eddie. He let out a low whistle of his own, voice dry and amused as he reached over to pluck the joint dipping out of Eddie’s fingers. “Guess we know who’s having the most fun tonight.”

Eddie groaned into Steve’s mouth, breaking the kiss just long enough to flip them all off without lifting his hands as he moved them to Steve’s thighs. “Mind your businesses!” He growled, though his grin betrayed him.

Steve, meanwhile, was far too high to feel embarrassed. Instead, he leaned into it, lips dragging back over Eddie’s with a pleased hum. He rolled his hips again, slow and deliberate, grinding down and back into a rhythm that made Eddie bite Steve’s lip to hold back his groan.

“Oh, you’re evil.” Eddie muttered against his lips, licking over the bite.

“Mm.” He hummed, leaning in to try and drag the kiss deeper, hands threading into Eddie's hair. He was clinging tightly, pressing closer, every motion telegraphing just how badly he wanted, he needed.

Eddie gave in for a moment, kissing him back just as hard, mouths clashing wet and hungry. His chest rumbled with a growl, deep enough for Steve to shiver as it vibrated through him. But then. Eddie remembered- their friends were still there, watching them.

“Shit.” He hissed. He pulled back, breathing hard, hands clamping down on Steve’s hips before he could grind back down. “Stevie.” He whispered, voice heavy with want and smoke. “Careful. I’m about two seconds from not giving a damn that we’ve got an audience.”

Steve’s eyes were blown wide, pupils swallowing hazel, lips red and kiss-swollen. He looked at Eddie like he’d just been handed the universe and wasn’t sure if he wanted to bite it or worship it.

“Don’t care.” He mumbled, leaning in again. His entire being screamed with want down through the bond. His mind hazy, the weed pushing away his inhibitions.

Eddie chuckled, forehead dropping briefly to Steve’s shoulder. He took several deep breaths as he tried to get control. Slowly, he leaned back up, lips brushing Steve’s ear as he whispered, “The problem, sweetheart. Is, no one gets to see you like that except for me.” He growled low, claws coming out to prick at Steve’s sides briefly before he slowly let them retract.

Steve only whines in reply, nuzzling against him, letting his hands drop to grip Eddie’s shoulders as he tries his best to grind back down.

And Eddie- caught between wanting to see Steve like that again today, but hearing the laughter from beside them- had to wrestle down the urge to just let him. He eventually managed to get Steve to calm down, sliding him down just a bit to rest comfortably on his shoulder.

Time passed in a haze of smoke and laughter, the joints burning down to nubs, until eventually all that was left were the mellow echoes of their highs as no one moved to roll anymore. The buzz softened, tapering into a languid, heavy warmth that made moving feel like wading through syrup.

At some point, Robin had announced they needed “snacks of destiny”, and Nancy had dutifully followed her into the kitchen. They’d returned armed with the rest of the snacks, candy, more chips, and the unmistakable glint of bottles clinking together.

By then, Steve had finally peeled himself off Eddie’s lap, though he kept reaching for him like gravity refused to let him drift too far off.

Now, the group had shifted down on to the floor in front of the couches, and the impressive spread of alcohol. Bottles of the normal stuff- beer, whiskey, rum- clustered loosely near Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan.

But directly in front of him and Eddie sat the small lineup that could probably burn a hole in the carpet: a few cloudy mason jars of clear moonshine, a dark bottle filled with what he and Robin had originally dubbed “Drunk Blood”- a mixture Eddie had been grinning about since pulling the cork- and a tall glass decanter of blood mixed liquor that gleamed almost jewel-bright under the light.

Nancy and Robin were leaning back against the coffee table, legs stretched forward and a bag of M&Ms propped between them. They popped candies into their mouths between sips of their beers, giggling like schoolgirls sharing secrets no one else could possibly understand.

Jonathan, calmer, slower, nursed a whisky glass with an easy smile, his back to the couch and posture relaxed, as though the floor were the most comfortable place in the world. Eddie mirrored him on the other side of Steve, close enough that their knees touched.

And Steve… Steve was somewhere else entirely.

He’d picked up one of the mason jars of moonshine with a skeptical squint at first, sniffing at the rim. But when he finally tipped it back and let the liquor burn down his throat, entire body shivering before relaxing. The sigh that slipped from his lips had been soft, almost startled. “Shit… This is..good.” He sounded bewildered, like the jar had tricked him somehow, and immediately went in for another swallow.

Eddie, meanwhile, had claimed the drunk blood. His lips stained faint red. He hummed in satisfaction, shoulders easing, head tilting back against the couch as he swallowed. “God, that’s good. Can see why you broke into Wayne’s… Remind me to send Owens a thank you card. Or a mixtape. He deserves a mixtape.”

He hummed distractedly in reply, because now the alcohol wasn’t just good- it had him feeling warm all over. Not the sluggish heat of the weed, but something more sparking, in his chest, spilling out into his limbs. It tugged at him, made him restless again, made him need.

And so the touching began again.

At first it was just his foot sneaking over Eddie’s thigh, toes digging into his jeans like he wanted to remind him, hey, I’m here. Then it was his hand sliding lazily under Eddie’s shirt, fingertips tracing slow circles over his stomach, not thinking about anything more- just needing the contact.

But that wasn’t enough.

After a while of trying to sit still like that, having several more drinks, he let his hand wander back to himself, sliding into his hair threading through the strands like he didn’t quite know what else to do with his hand. Then he wandered back down, tugging at the hem of his own shirt and resting over the soft plane of his stomach, rubbing back and forth with a pleased hum, unable to sit still.

Eddie gave him a look- both amused and fond- and muttered something under his breath that he’d ignored entirely. Because he’d realized Jonathan was sitting right there on his other side, heartbeat louder than his own and warm, and suddenly, Steve was leaning into him too, cheek resting against his arm like he belonged there.

One hand wrapped itself around Jonathan’s wrist before slipping down to tangle with his fingers. Jonathan startled at first, blinking down at him, but when Steve didn’t let go, his lips curled into a quiet smile.

“Drunk Steve.. Always needs to be warm.” Jonathan murmured as he shifted just enough so their hands fit better together. Steve sighed like he’d been waiting for that all night, a sound so content it made Eddie shake his head with a grin.

But he wasn’t done. He shifted forward, tugging Eddie in until he was pressed tight between them both, Eddie on one side, Jonathan on the other. His feet moved stubbornly, stretched out across Eddie’s lap, heels nudging against his hip, just so Eddie knew he wasn’t going anywhere. His fingers squeezed Jonathan’s hand lightly.

It wasn't until Robin moved to get more comfortable, shifting to sprawl across the plush carpet, that he moved again, remembering she was there. He moved one foot off Eddie, stretching in a lazy movement as he pressed it against her ankle.

Robin snorted, glanced down, and then- grinning- hooked her leg around his, pressing her shin firmly against his foot in solidarity. “Look at you, Dingus. Center of the universe.”

“Mm. Just want.” He murmured, eyes half-lidded but his smile dreamy. “Need all of you close. That’s all.” At that, Nancy moved closer, her leg gently pressing into his next to Robin’s.

Eddie leaned over, taking another sip before looking down at him like he couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or kiss him senseless. “Don’t think Bucklet’s-” Robin grumbled at the name. “-into that, sweetheart.” He whispered, reaching up to gently card his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“Not horny.” His barely audible reply came quick, slurred only by drink, brow furrowed like he needed Eddie to understand. “Not like before.. Just… Wanna feel you. All of you.” His free hand slid up Eddie’s side again, under his shirt, palm flat against his ribs.

Nancy, sipping from her bottle, tilted her head giggling. “You’re like a cat. One of those clingy ones that lays on everyone until they can’t breathe.”

“Yeah, but he’s our cat.” Robin said around a mouthful of M&Ms, tossing a few into Steve’s lap. “Group mascot.”

He blinked down at the candies, then lazily picked one up and popped it into his mouth, not moving from where he was half-pinned between Eddie and Jonathan. “Better than ‘King Steve’.” He mumbled, chewing. “Way better.”

Eddie’s hand came back up, letting his fingers slip into his hair again, scratching lightly at his scalp, and Steve melted like butter against the both of them. His grip on Jonathan tightening, his foot pressing firmer toward Robin and Nancy, leg rubbing slowly over Eddie’s. The glow of the liquor made his cheeks faintly pink, eyelids heavy, body restless except for each point of contact pressing against him.

And none of them seemed to mind. Like they knew exactly what he needed.

The night carried on.

The room was glowing with that special kind of warmth that only came from too much alcohol, too many friends, and no reason to hold back. The music Robin had dug out of Steve’s shelves thumped softly from the little stereo in the corner- a mixtape Will had made for him. Abba bleeding into Bowie, then into something Robin had insisted was “perfect party fuel” even though nobody could walk straight anymore.

Robin was the first one up, yanking Steve upright with her, hands tugging at his wrists until he stumbled to his feet with a confused laugh. “Come on, Harrington. If I’m dancing, you’re dancing. No excuses.”

“Rooobbie.” He whined in an almost mock protest as he let her pull him into the middle of the room, words coming slightly slurred. “You know I can’t d’nce sober. What makes you think.. Think I’m any better now?”

“Exactly why I need you!” She shot back, already swaying to the beat, uncoordinated but grinning.

And God, they were a sight. Both of them moving with absolutely no rhythm, tripping into each other, laughing so hard they couldn’t catch their breath. Steve bent low, exaggerating a bow before twirling her out clumsily, nearly sending them both into the couch. Robin shrieked, giggled, and shoved him back into place.

Somewhere, between the spins and their half-sung, off-key harmonizing, Steve clutched Robin by the shoulders, leaning down close like he had something very important to tell her. “Robin. Robbie. Robs. You know something?”

She blinked up at him, face flushed from alcohol and laughter. “I know lots of things, dingus.”

“Mm. True. But you know. I love you.” He said it with the kind of serious intensity that made the others glance over, only to immediately laugh at the sight of Steve swaying on his feet like a weathervane in the wind. “Like, love you. So much. Don’t forget it.”

Robin’s grin lit up into something real and happy as she shoved at his chest. “I love you too, dingus. And don’t you forget it! Like.. Ever.”

He pressed his forehead to hers for a long second, smiling crooked and glassy-eyed, before they both collapsed back down into the circle the other had made. Eddie caught him as he dropped, steadying him with an arm around his shoulders.

The drinks kept flowing. Eddie traded the blood for a swig of moonshine, coughing on the first sip before breaking into a wide grin. “Hot damn. Burns like hell for a second, but… Kinda tasty?” He took another sip just to prove his point, shoulders shaking as he exhaled through the sting.

Steve, emboldened by his boyfriend's trial, reached for the blood liquor mix and tipped it back. The flavor hit him immediately- sweet, rich, almost decadent. His eyes widened and then narrowed like he was trying to puzzle it out. “Holy shit.. It’s like… Like wine. Expensive wine. But better like… Like.. Desert in a bottle. Oh my God, it’s amazing.” He kept sipping until Eddie tugged the glass out of his hand with a chuckle, stealing some for himself.

The room was alive with laughter, with warmth. Nancy leaned into Robin’s side, the two of them sharing more candy like kids at a sleepover. Jonathan sat cross-legged, his smile loose and dopey as he nursed a new whiskey. Eddie sprawled comfortably, shoulders brushing Steve’s, lips pink from the drink. And Steve- Steve was in his element, drunk and soft and brimming with affection he couldn’t contain.

He turned toward Eddie, his grin boyish and unguarded. “You’re the best boyfriend. You know that?”

Eddie arched a brow, smirking. “Yeah? That so?”

He whipped his head around toward the rest of their group, eyes wide with conviction. “No, really. He is. He’s the best. Like- look at him! He’s sweet and kind and funny and- God, he’s just so fucking good.” His voice cracked a little on the word, and he hiccuped before prattling forward anyway.

Robin cackled, used to this even when he was sober, tossing an M&M at his head. “Boys are gross. But I’ll just take your word for it.”

Jonathan just sipped his drink, eyebrows raised, that soft little smile never leaving his face. He looked almost charmed, listening to Steve wax poetics about Eddie like the whole world needed to know.

Nancy? Nancy was trying. She was biting her lip, pressing her fist against her mouth, shoulders trembling with barely contained laughter.

Steve, oblivious, plowed ahead. “Like- he’s so sweet all the time. And he takes care of me, y’know? And-” His voice dropped lower, leaning forward looking far too serious. “-he fe-feels so fucking good when we fuck.”

Nancy choked on her drink, doubling over into Robin’s side as laughter shook through her. Robin groaned, dragging a hand down her face but grinning anyway. “Oh my God, Steve. Again with this?” She muttered.

“Mmmhm.” He hummed, nodding enthusiastically, clearly not catching the horror on Eddie’s face. “He’s just.. He’s so big and he fills-”

That was as far as he got before Eddie lunged forward and captured his mouth in a hard, desperate kiss.

The room erupted again. Robin wolf-whistled immediately. Nancy wheezed with laughter against her side. Jonathan even chuckled low into his drink, shaking his head with a smile.

He blinked up at Eddie when they parted, lips swollen, eyes wide and dazed. A slow, dopey grin spread across his face. “Eddie?” He said it like it was the happiest surprise of his life. “Heeey, baby.”

Then he folded forward into Eddie’s chest, arms wrapping around his waist, chin tipped up so he could keep looking up at him with those soft, adoring eyes. Eddie sighed, carding a hand through his hair, muttering something about “motor mouth Harrington.”

But Steve didn’t care. He was grinning too wide, heart too full, too drunk to hold anything back.

The circle folded back into itself after that- music humming in the background, joints being rolled again and passed around, bottles traded from hands to hand, everyone even trying a shot of the moonshine, to their immediate regret.

They sprawled across the carpet, Robin and Nancy sharing whispered jokes, Jonathan chuckling at their antics, occasionally joining in with them, Eddie stretching out with Steve practically plastered against him.

The air was thick with smoke, laughter, and the undeniable comfort of a night where, just for once, they didn’t have to worry about a thing. Where they could get drunk, stupid, and high together, tell too much, laugh too loud, and know that in the morning they’d still have each other.

And Steve, half-draped across Eddie’s lap with a drink in one hand and Eddie’s shirt fisted in the other, could imagine anything better.

The night eventually started to slowly mellow out, like a song fading out at the end of a record. The wild laughter softened into breathy chuckles, the haze of smoke hanging low but no one cared enough to wave it away, and the room warm with bodies and half-mumbled conversations.

Now, Robin was giggling into Nancy’s shoulder at something Jonathan had said, whispering something that had both girls shaking quietly with laughter. Jonathan was stretched out on his side, a lazy grin tugging at his lips as he half-listened to them, half-watched Steve toy with Eddie’s rings. Eddie was propped against the couch, one arm slung around Steve’s waist, thumb brushing slow, unconscious circles against Steve’s hip.

Steve, drunk, loose, and content, kept pressing his nose into Eddie’s shirt like he could get drunk on the scent. Every so often he’d mutter something under his breath meant just for Eddie- about how much he loved his kisses, about how safe it felt to have him in his head sometimes, about how he never thought he’d get someone who made the world feel this easy.

Eddie would only huff out a soft laugh, dipping down to kiss the corner of his head, not bothering to point out that Steve was saying all this loud enough he could barely hear himself think.

Eventually, a loud, ungraceful yawn broke the spell- Jonathan, stretching like a cat before blinking heavily at the others. That set off a chair reaction: Nancy stifled one behind her hand, Robin whined through hers, Steve tried to swallow his but ended up popping his jaw anyway.

“All right.” Eddie groaned, rubbing his face. “If we don’t move now, we’re all gonna wake up in these exact positions, and I don’t wanna hear about your backs.”

That got everyone stumbling to their feet in a clumsy herd. They bumped into each other, half laughing, half grumbling as they gathered bottles, stacked empty boxes, and shoved the worst of the mess into the kitchen.

Robin dropped a stack of cups twice before Nancy finally recused them from her. Steve tripped over the corner of the island and nearly took Eddie down with him, both of them laughing too hard to finish organizing the leftover food. Jonathan moved with steady patience, herding them along until the living room was at least manageable again.

When it was done, he swayed toward the stairs, staring up at them with glassy eyes. He tipped his head back, lips parting like he was calculating the distance.

After a long pause, he hooks his head. “Nope. Not happening.”

Instead, he staggered to the hall closet, tugging out every blanket and pillow he could get his hands on, several falling onto the floor. He dropped the first armful in the middle of the living room and grinned like he’d solved some kind of problem. “Together’s better.”

No one argued. Robin and Nancy were already practically on the floor, leaning against each other with heavy eyes. Jonathan dropped the couch cushions down to add to the growing nest, and Eddie helped Steve drag the coffee table out of the way.

In minutes they had a makeshift bed sprawled across the carpet, a patchwork of blankets and pillows that felt absurdly perfect.

Eddie claimed the far end away from the entryway, stretching out on his back. Steve immediately crawled over and curled himself against Eddie’s chest, one hand splayed against his ribs, ear pressed over his faint heartbeat. Eddie kissed his temple and pulled a blanket high over them both.

Jonathan settled in next to them, lying close on Steve’s other side. Steve had reached for him without thinking, pulling Jonathan’s hand over his hip and holding it there. He mumbled something about, “so you don’t feel left out,” his voice slurred and soft. Jonathan only smiled in response, but squeezed his hand once letting Steve keep it.

Robin and Nancy tucked beside one another a little further down, but not too far that Steve complained, already half-asleep. Every so often one of them would wake up just enough to finish a punchline or mutter something that had the other snickering before they drifted again.

Steve, meanwhile, couldn’t stop shifting- touching Eddie’s hair, running his fingers up his own stomach under his shirt, squeezing Jonathan’s hand, stretching his toes until they brushed Eddie’s thigh.

At one point, Robin rolled in her sleep and her leg flopped close enough that Steve, putting it over Jonathan’s leg, nudged his foot against hers. Without even opening her eyes, she nudged back, and he grinned into Eddie’s chest like it was the best thing that had happened all night.

The room was dim, the stereo finally silent. Until Robin, eyes barely open, mumbled something about “needing noise.” She crawled over Jonathan’s leg with all the face of a newborn deer and managed to get to the TV. Static filled the air for a moment before she found some random late-night return and crawled back, dropping down next to Nancy, already dozing again.

He barely noticed the screen, having Eddie’s hand in his now, lifting it to his lips every few minutes to press sloppy, tender kisses over the knuckles. “Perfect.” He whispered against them, not really caring if Eddie heard the words or not. “Love your kisses. Love when you’re in my head.. Gonna stay with you ‘ever.” His words melted together, a drunken stream of honesty without a filter.

Eddie only smiled in the dark, caring his free hand lazily through Steve’s hair. “Gonna stay with you forever too, sweetheart.”

And with the TV humming low, the smell of weed still lingering, and all of them tangled together in a heap of blankets, the night finally quieted- just laughter trailing off into soft breaths, warmth pressed in on all sides, and the knowledge that for once, none of them had to be anywhere but here.

---

The living room still reeked of weed and spilled booze to the two vampires in the room, but was faint for everyone else when Eddie finally stirred, head pounding but chest warm. He groaned low, dragging a hand over his face before cracking open one eye. The nest of blankets was half-collapsed, bodies sprawled in every direction, sunlight spilling across the carpet in narrow beams.

“Fuck me.” Eddie rasped, voice hoarse, even though the grin tugging at his mouth betrayed him. He rolled onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes. “I need to send Owens a goddamn gift basket.”

From the kitchen, Steve’s muffled hum of agreement floated back. He was slumped forward at the counter, cheek pressed flat against the cool marble, hair sticking up in chaotic tufts. “Mm. Yeah. B’st idea y’ever had.” He mumbled, barely lifting his head.

Robin was next to him, looking about three degrees from death. Her elbow was propped on the counter as she held her forehead in her palm. She cracked open the child-proof cap of a pill bottle with more effort than usual, dry-swallowed two, then immediately reached for her glass of water. She made a face as the liquid hit her stomach, pressing the chilled cup to her temple groaning. “Shhh.” She whispered sharply, glaring weakly at the both of them. “Too loud. We’re not allowed to talk about gift baskets before noon.”

Nancy shuffled in next, eyes barely open. She leaned heavily against the counter opposite Steve, her loose sweater hanging off one shoulder. With a deep sigh, she wrapped both hands around her glass of water and sipped slowly, each swallow deliberate, like she was teaching her body how to function again. Her hair was mussed, cheeks flushed in a way that only came after laughing too much and drinking far too late.

The only one who looked remotely alive was Jonathan. His face was pale but calm, hair hanging in his eyes as he worked steadily at the stove. A skillet sizzled with bacon, the warm savory smell cutting through the haze of last night’s mix of smoke, sugar, and booze. Next to it, he had a plan filled with thick slices of french toast, edges crisping golden brown. Another pan, crowded with sausages, hissed quietly in the background.

Steve groaned softly into the marble counter, turning his head just enough to peek blearily at Jonathan. “Why’re you, like… Functioning?”

Jonathan gave the smallest shrug, flipping the bacon with practiced ease. “Didn’t drink as much as you guys.” He said simply, voice kept low. He glanced back over his shoulder, smiling faintly. “Someone had to keep an eye on you, make sure you didn’t sneak off again.”

Eddie dragged himself into the kitchen then, rubbing at his eyes as he plopped onto a stool beside Steve. His hair was a tangled disaster, curls knotted and flattened on the side, but he didn’t care. He leaned forward, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder, eyes half-closed. “M’not sending Owens a basket,” he muttered. “I’m sending him a whole ass fruit arrangement. Like.. One of those ridiculous ones with skewers shaped like flowers. Maybe a balloon. Or twelve… Didn’t even know we could get hungover.”

He snorted weakly, shoulders shaking as he shifted to nudge his cheek against Eddie’s. “You’re ridiculous.” He hummed softly. “And unfortunately we can, depending on how much we have is usually how long it’ll last. Think it might.. I dunno. Couple hours? Maybe three? Dunno, we drank a lot.”

“Mmm.” Eddie nuzzled against him, then winced when Robin made another loud shhh, clutching her water like it was holy.

The kitchen was quiet except for the low hum of the stove and the occasional clink of utensils. Nancy, still propped against the counter, finally cracked her eyes open to glance toward Jonathan. “You’re making enough for all of us, right?”

Jonathan gave another small smile, turning back to flip the french toast onto a plate. “Already on it.”

The smell of cinnamon and butter made the kitchen warm and comforting, softening the edges of everyone’s headaches. Eddie let out a dramatic groan that turned into a chuckle. “Good, I love you, Byers. If I wasn’t already happily taken, I’d propose right here, right now.”

That earned him a small laugh from everyone, even through the pain, and a muttered, “You’d better now,” from Steve, though he didn’t move from under Eddie’s chin.

The morning settled around them peacefully- quiet, slow, and heavy with the happiness of the night before. The clatter of plates, the smell of breakfast, and the soft hungover laughter stitched them back together piece by piece.

And earlier than predicted- he and Eddie’s hangover only lasted an hour. Though he never did get to give them that promised tour.

---

Steve sat comfortably in his father’s old recliner- the one he’d passed on to Wayne during his renovations. It felt too new compared to everything else, not as soft and worn down by age, as his father never once sat in it.

Everyone was here except Eddie.

The hum of conversations filling the living room, voices overlapping, a rhythm of laughter, low murmurs, and the occasional sharp bark of Hopper’s voice from the kitchen.

Eddie had left earlier with soft kisses against Steve’s forehead, hand squeezing his shoulder before pulling away. He’d promised to try and be back by lunch, grinning faint as he’d said it, but his eyes had carried a weight- the kind that made Steve want to reach across the bond, hold on, and not let him leave again. But he couldn’t. So Eddie had gone, heading back out of town to the cabin to talk to Doc. About what, he had no idea, but it was apparently something that couldn’t wait.

Jonathan sat in Wayne’s favorite recliner next to him, legs stretched long, one ankle balanced over his knee. They weren’t talking much- just dipping in and out of quiet conversation whenever something caught their attention. It was easy. Comfortable. Steve was grateful for it, grateful that they’d settled into friendship without all the rough edges it used to carry. Jonathan’s calm presence kept the noise of the room from feeling overwhelming.

Across the room, Nancy was tucked into a corner with Robin, Joyce, and Murray, their heads bent together, voices low but firm. He caught bits and pieces when he let himself focus- something about soldier rotations shifting again, just in case the monsters figured out patterns. Joyce looked tired but determined, Robin gesturing too much with her hands, Murray making snide comments here and there, and Nancy, ever Nancy, was steady and sharp-eyed, already thinking five steps ahead.

At the kitchen table, Wayne and Hopper sat opposite each other. Their voices carried more easily, low rumbles that occasionally cut loud in his ears. They were talking about One. Or rather, the lack of him- no sightings, no sounds, no hints. Just silence. It sat heavy over each of them. He sat like a shadow, unspoken but present.

On the loveseat, Erica and Max leaned toward each other, arms crossed, shoulders brushing as they whispered back and forth. Their expressions were a mix of conspiratorial and bored, but his hearing betrayed him now. He caught their words easily, whether he wanted to or not- school coming sooner than later, the awkwardness of walking back into hallways patrolled by armed guards, the reality of living in a town where monsters weren’t bedtime stories anymore.

Will, Eleven, and Mike occupied one of the couches. Their conversation was a shifting, restless thing, bouncing from movies to music to plans they’d never finish talking through. Mike was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, trying to sound decisive. Will’s soft voice occasionally cut in, redirecting or smoothing things over. El, sitting beside Will, nodded along, her quiet gaze sharper than her quiet words suggested.

And against the far wall, Lucas and Dustin stood like sentries. Both had their eyes darting toward the door now and again, Dustin’s more obvious than Lucas. They’d been talking since they got here- about vampire biology, of course- Dustin’s endless questions delivered rapid-fire, a notepad pulled out as if this were a science lecture and not a casual hangout. He’d been one of the first to show up, immediately grilling Steve about how their party was. The disappointment in his voice at not being invited had been loud enough to make Lucas elbow him in the ribs, but Dustin hadn’t exactly let it go.

It was… -Nice-, Steve thought, letting his head fall back against the recliner. Nice in a way he hadn’t remembered being in a long time. The noise, the overlapping voices, the domesticity of it all- it no longer felt overwhelming, but welcoming. He let himself listen, let the sounds settle into him, even joined in when Jonathan leaned toward him to ask something.

All that was missing was Eddie.

His chest gave a little twist at the thought. He could reach for him- stretch through the bond, try and let himself feel Eddie, hear him- but he didn’t. He curled his fingers around the armrest instead, grounding himself in the leather beneath his hands. He didn’t want to be clingy, didn’t want to smother Eddie with the fact that he could hardly last half a day without him. Eddie had gone to take care of something important, and Steve told himself he could wait.

But God, he missed him. Missed the weight of him pressed against his side, the way Eddie’s laughter filled the gasps in a room, the way his presence eased everything sharp inside Steve. Without him here, the space felt unfinished, like the picture was missing a corner.

He swallowed down the urge, kept his face carefully neutral as Jonathan asked him another questions. He answered, voice steady, though his thoughts kept drifting back, always, to the cabin, to the bond, to Eddie.

When they were too far apart, the bond thinned. It was still there- still alive- but muffled, like trying to listen through thick cement. He couldn’t feel him, couldn’t hear him, unless it was something big, something sharp, strong enough to cut across the distance. Unless one of them shouted through the void. So for now, there was nothing.

Quiet. Empty. Lonely.

Still humming faintly with life, but silent all the same.

He hated every second of it.

By the time lunch came, tension sat heavy in his shoulders. His fork scraped across his plate, the food tasting like cardboard no matter how good Joyce’s cooking smelled. He chewed mechanically, muscles tight, letting conversations flow around him.

Joyce was laughing at something Hopper said, Erica was rolling her eyes at Dustin, Max was swiping grapes from Nancy’s plate, and all of it blurred into background noise. He ate in silence, body present but his mind.. Stretched thin, reaching for someone who wasn’t able to hear him.

He held out longer than he thought he could before finally caving. -I miss you.- He sent gently, the words pulling from his chest before he could stop them.

Nothing.

No flicker of warmth. No low pleased hum. No quiet laugh sent back to him. Just his own words echoing in the emptiness of his head, bouncing back hollow. The bond was there, yes, still humming with life, but it was quiet.

By the time the sun started sinking, his leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. Lunch had bled into afternoon, afternoon into the early stretch of evening, and still no sign of Eddie. No crunch of gravel outside, no creak of the front door, no sudden flare of warmth through the bond.

He wanted to call. Wanted to get in the car he hasn’t driven in years and race out to the cabin and demand answers, demand Eddie come back. But Wayne’s voice kept echoing in his head: give him time son. It’s just something he needs to do, on his own for now.

Wayne hadn’t looked worried when he first said it. But now, hours later, as shadows stretched long across the walls and dinner crept closer than lunch, even Wayne’s face had tightened. He tried to hide it- tried to keep his hands steady around a mug of coffee, his words calm- but Steve could see it. Could smell the shift in his scent, hear the way his heartbeat faster.

That was worse than being lied to.

His claws itched to slide free, the urge to do something rattling under his skin. Instead, he curled his hands into fists, nails biting into his palms, and forced them to stay blunt. His eyes stayed locked on the door, watching it, willing it to open. Any second, Eddie would push through, wild hair and easy grin, and the bond would light back up again. Warm. Bright.

Any second now.

But the door stayed closed.

The bond stayed silent.

And Steve sat in his father’s old recliner, shoulders hunched, hands clenched tight enough to ache, waiting.

-Any second now. C’mon Eddie… Any second now.-

The door didn’t open. No sudden flare of warmth igniting across the bond.

Until suddenly.

Images slammed into his mind like a movie reel played too fast.

Leaves scattering, branches whipping past, ground cracking under a pair of boots, the sharp wheeze of something tearing the air. Flashes so quick, so raw, his mind couldn’t keep hold of one before the next played past. It all came too fast for him to focus on, to understand what they meant.

And then it hit him.

It was intense, crushing, suffocating. Fear. It poured through the bond like a damn breaking. Knocking the air from his lungs, his body jerking upright in the recliner, spine ramrod straight, breath rasping sharp and loud.

“Eddie?” His voice cracked on the name, eyes wide, pupils blown.

The fear on his face- mirrored perfectly in Wayne’s- was enough to silence the entire room. Chairs scraped. Wayne pushed up from the table. Hopper’s voice breaking low but taut, “Steve?” Just his name, quietly asked, but it was enough to let the panic bleed through to everyone else.

Noise swelled- questions being yelled over one another, voices overlapping, panic rising. But he didn’t hear them. Couldn’t. His focus narrowed until the room around him was nothing but background static.

-What’s going on? Where are you?.. Eddie?!...-

-Where are you?!- The words tore through the bond, frantic and.. Scared.

Eddie was unable to focus enough to answer all of his panicked yelling. So his reply came in shards, choked by panic, the bond fraying around the edges. ‘Near the quarry.’

That was all Steve needed.

He shot out of the recliner so fast it nearly toppled over, chest heaving as he stumbled for his shoes. Fingers fumbling with laces, one shoe on, the other slamming him against the wall as he forced it over his foot.

“He’s in trouble!” His voice broke, raw, as he yanked the second lace tight. “Somethings chasing him- to the quarry!” He managed to push out the last part as he foot slammed into the floor.

The room erupted. But he ignored the panicked questions, shouts, protests, wall denting as he surged away from it. Hopper’s barked “Wait!”, Jonathan calling “Car, Steve, the car-”

Too slow. They were all too damn slow. They’d just weigh him down, keep him from getting there. He had to get to him. He had to.

By the time they lunged for him, he was already at the door. He ripped it open so fast the hinges shrieked, the sound lost to the snap of air as he bolted down the porch and into the woods. The last thing he caught- whether he heard it or ignored it, he couldn’t tell- was Eddie’s voice, ragged and desperate shouting through the bond: ‘Don’t come! Stay away!’

He didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

The forest blurred. Trees became streaks of brown and green, the underbrush shredded under his shoes. Animals he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to rushed out of his way. Branches whipped his face and shoulders, but he barely felt them. His chest burned, lungs trying to pull in huge gulps of air, so he stopped breathing.

Still, he pushed himself harder.

He crashed into several trees, bark exploding under the impact. Stumbled, tightened himself, pushed forward again. Questions fired off through the bond, rapid and sharp: Where is he? Is he hurt? Eddie?!

He doesn’t get much in return, only splintered and panicked half answers of, Stay away. Quarry. Stay away. ‘Steve! Stay away!’

But he can’t. Wouldn’t he-

Shoes skidded against dirt creating thick lines, body lurching forward as he tripped over himself, blinking rapidly. He froze. The world spun around him. The woods stretched silent for half a second too long, and then- He realized something.

The wrongness in the air. The heavy, electric pull in his gut. His stomach dropped, eyes going wide as dread crawled up his spine.

It’s happening.

A strangled noise ripped from him, a mix between a sob and a growl, before he hurled himself forward again, shoes creating a crater with his need to get to him. Faster this time. Harder. Pushing every muscle to its limit. His body screamed, legs burned, but none of it mattered.

He hadn’t trained this hard with Doc, hadn't bled and broken bones beside Eddie, just to be too late. He wouldn’t. He was going to get there. He had to get there.

-No no no no no. Please please please please please.- It rattled through his head, wild and frantic as he pushed that much faster, just a little mo-

Eddie!

He could hear it now. His heartbeat! The familiar rhythm, uneven and panicked, hammering far too fast for even a human, somewhere not far ahead. Steve’s body snapped toward it, veering hard through the trees, shoes digging deep furrows into the dirt as he tore across the ground, chasing that sound with everything in him. -Hold on! I’m almost there!-

‘No!’

He ignored it, pushing forward.

He slammed into Eddie on accident, unable to slow down enough to run alongside him. They went tumbling down through leaves and dirt, but Eddie pushes up instantly, hauling Steve up quickly, shoving him forward. His hand clamped around Steve’s wrist, forcing him into motion.

Running in a direction he knew all too well.

“You idiot!” Eddie hissed, the sound both a snarl and a plea, as they crashed through the trees. Their pace was slowing, both of them staggering with exhaustion. “I told you not to come!”

“And I told you-” He gasps, chest tearing in breath again. “-it’s you and me! I didn’t in the lab, I’m not fucking leaving you now!” He gripped Eddie’s hand hard, his palm slick, just hoping. Praying the universe, anyone would hear him and not take this from him too. “What the hell even is it?” He tried to focus, to tune his senses outward, tried to feel what was after them now.

But all he caught was Eddie’s heartbeat. Frenzied, thunderous. And the shift of the air behind them- huge, lumbering. Not the clean speed of a predator but something heavier. A truck? Machinery? Plowing through the woods like the trees weren’t even there.

Then- sharp. Fast. Something suddenly split the air. Instinct screamed and he yanked Eddie down. But he was slowed by exhaustion. A bullet tore white-hot into his shoulder. His vision exploding with stars.

“Fuck!” The word ripped raw from his throat as he crumpled, but Eddie dragged him upright, babbling, “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I know! But we gotta move! Steve- we have to go!” Another shot cracked and buried itself in a tree, showering them with bark.

Every step became punishment, feet becoming that much heavier. The bullet sat lodged, grinding against muscle and bone, slowing his healing. His arm hung heavy, useless due to pain, blood hot and sticky rolling down his back.

“Stevie…” Eddie’s voice wavered. He sounded.. Scared. “I said not to come.”

Steve glanced over, forcing a crooked smile, even as spots crawled at the edges of his vision. “I know.. It’s just a bullet, Eds. I’ve.. We’ve had worse. We just.. Gotta keep going. Hold out a little. I.. I told the others- they’ll call Owens, and someone will-”

Another shot rang out, slamming too close to his ribs, forcing a scream to tear from his throat. His knees buckled. He hadn’t even felt the wind shift this time. Hadn’t heard it either. Something was wrong- his senses blunted, distorted, like something was-..

He staggered forward, dragging his feet, pushing himself just one fast step after the other, knowing the truth in his bones: they’d never make it. They’d never-

The trees broke as their feet skidded through the ground sending rocks flying. Empty air stretched ahead of them as they slid to a halt at the edge. A cliff. -No. No no no.- He reeled back as Eddie’s arm wrenched him away from the drop. Cold dread filled his stomach. He hadn’t even smelled the water below. Hasn’t heard the rush. Or smelt the woods give way. Why? What’s going on? Why couldn’t he-

His eyes found Eddie’s. The terror meeting his was worse than the bullets. “Eddie..” He whispered, hands shaking as he reached them both up to take the one still over his stomach. He tried not to let the pain show, but he knew he was failing at the terrified look on Eddie’s face.

“Steve..” Was the whispered reply as Eddie suddenly whipped around to look at the treeline. Steve followed much slower, hissing as his wounds pulled tight with movement.

Engines growled. A.. Military?.. Camo SUV nosed through a large gap, tires chewing up soil. Large groups of men spilled from the trees in formation, their weapons snapping up. Too many. Too close. Far closer than he’d thought they were. Or maybe.. They’d just stood there too long, staring at one another. The sun did seem to be almost set now.

Shadows stretched as he looked around, it turned every man into their own silhouette of death.

Then the passenger door swung wide.

“No.” Eddie breathed, eyes wide. His entire body seemed to shrink as the man emerged- a towering slab of muscle, armor, guns and knives strapped to him like second skin. His eyes were flat, his smile cruel.

“Eddie?” Steve weakly rasped, hands gripping him as tight as he could.

“He was… He’s from..” Eddie glanced over, fear written on every inch of him as he squeezed Steve’s hands. “He was in charge of keeping me in line at the lab.” He finally whispered, turning back to watch as the man came to the edge of the woods.

The man kicked a rock, his smirk spreading. “Hello, mutt… Time to come home. Boys.”

Red lasers suddenly painted their chests.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, looking at Eddie and he clenched his hands as tight as he could, it was just a weak squeeze. Eddie looked back, eyes wide. “Stevie… Stevie, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have-”

“Go get them! We’re running out of time.. Move!” The man barked.

Eddie cut himself off, free hand coming up almost reverently to cup Steve’s face. He lunged forward, crashing their mouths together. The world narrowed to the heat, the desperate press of lips. Boots crunched through dirt and rock closer now.

When Eddie pulled away, his hand was trembling, tears were gathered in his eyes threatening to spill. His thumb traced Steve’s cheekbone like he was memorizing him. He raised Steve’s clenched hands up, kissing his knuckles. Almost a prayer as the boots grew closer.

Eddie looked over at them from the corner of his eye, they were too close. Then he seemed to weigh something. ‘I’ll always protect you, sweetheart. I’m not gonna let you die there.’ The thought brushed through his mind.

Steve’s throat work. His heart hammered. “Eds-”

But before he could finish. Eddie gave him one more soft kiss, then slowly dropped his hands. “I’m so sorry, Stevie.”

The world seemed to move in slow motion.

Eddie’s hand pressed against his chest. The shove came hard. Final. Pushing him backwards with force. The men were lunging forward, hurried to get closer as if to stop him. But it was too late.

His claws tore out in panic, catching Eddie’s wrist, his palm, scraping against skin before gravity ripped them apart. His stomach dropped into nothing as he went flying backward away from the rocks, away from the men. Away from Eddie.

Wind roared, tearing the scream from his throat but nothing came, leaving his mouth open in silence. He’s flung back into open air. Lungs burning as he tried to do anything, shout, scream, nothing. He was too weak to even beg his powers to work.

Above him, growing further and further by the second, Eddie’s face blurred as tears whipped from his eyes with the freezing wind. His eyes- Eddie’s eyes- carved with terror and an apology so deep it looked like it might shatter him.

He could see it clear as day, just before-

What he begged never would come true. Happened.

It was like time sped up again.

A loud resounding crack split the air. Deafening. And Eddie dropped down, out of sight.

He could hear the crackle of a radio as he plummeted down. Men shouting about multiple vans incoming, about pulling out, about having at least one of them and it had to be enough. Shouting that they needed to go. Boot stomped, orders cracked too far for him to hear now, engines roared to life.

And Steve fell. Body twisting, pain blooming everywhere. His back slammed into something below. The impact ripped what breath he had left from him. He couldn’t even scream as his vision tunneled.

Black swallowed him whole.

Notes:

I'm sorry guys. :)

Let me know your thoughts so far!

9/22 Edit: Fixed Eddie's thought at the end, forgot to make it small.

Chapter 40: What Am I Without You?

Summary:

He closed his eyes and centered on the single thought that cut through all else: Eddie.

Notes:

Sorry if you're squeamish at the start.. I tried to tone it down.

At first, there was nothing.

No dark, no light. Not even the soft ache of silence. Just… Nothing.

He might have been floating, but there was no sense of up or down, no breath to chase, no weight to anchor him down. The thought of a body felt foreign, like something he’d once borrowed and misplaced. If this was movement, it was the kind that asked nothing of him and gave nothing back- a slow, endless drift through a space too deep to measure.

Time- if it dared exist here- stretched until it lost its name.

No sound. No heartbeat. Not even the ghost of air moving past skin.

For a while- minutes, hours, a lifetime- he thought maybe this was what dying meant. Not pain. Not even peace. Maybe this was all that waited: just a silence so whole it erased the very idea of silence.

He tried to move. His limbs- if they existed- did not answer.

He tried to think, and that was worse. Each thought slipped away before it finished, dissolving like ink in water. Fragments of words drifted and vanished before he could catch them. All that remained was the faintest whisper of self- thin, frayed, like an echo in a room long abandoned.

Is this it?

His own voice- if it was his- came back thin and distant, warped, as though spoken through miles of glass.

Is this where I.. Is this it for me?

No answer.

Not even the familiar hum of the bond that should have been there. Just a hollow pit where it once lived.

He should have panicked. He didn’t. He should have felt pain. But none came. Even fear seemed too heavy for this place.

Eddie….?

The name drifted out of him like a breath he no longer remembered taking. It barely sounded like a word.

Nothing answered.

No warmth. No brush of thought. Only the endless, soft pressure of nothing folding closer around him.

Steve.

He tried again, slower this time, as if shaping the words might call himself back. But the name rolled through the void and came back distorted, warped like a record played backwards.

Steve.

Who are you when there’s no one left to hear it?

A flicker- thin as a cracked reflection. Maybe a memory. Maybe a dream.
Hands on his face. A push. Eddie’s eyes wide and pleading. The images wavered like light on black water, then broke apart before he could reach for them.

The absence swallowed him whole again.

He floated.

Waited.

Listened to the nothingness around him.

How long… Has it been?

Am I.. Dead?

And then- somewhere distant, maybe far, maybe inside the hollow of his own chest- something small began to tap.

A beat.

One.

Then another.

Quiet. Fragile. His.

He latched onto it with a hunger that would have startled him, if he could. The sound was faint, as if it traveled from another world, but it was real. A pulse. A heartbeat. Slow. Dull. Steady.

Proof.

The only proof that maybe he was still here. Wherever here was.

The endless darkness -the void- pressed closer, thick and jealous, trying to smother the sound. To steal it back. But he clung to it anyway, counting each thud like knots in a rope.

I’m still here.

The words were nothing but thought, yet they still tasted like defiance.

I’m… Steve Harrington. And I’m still here.

The beat quickened- just lightly- enough to remind him of weight, of blood, of the body waiting somewhere beyond this endless dark. Enough to hurt.

The void trembled.

But the sound faltered, thinning like a candle sitting in heavy wind. Each thus slid farther apart until the rhythm slipped beneath the surface, lost in the vast black. He reached- if reaching was even possible- but his fingers, if he still had fingers, closed on nothing.

Silence again.
No sound. No pulse. Only the endless hush.

The drift resumed.

Sometimes it felt like falling, a slow, endless drop that never gained speed.
Other times it felt like floating, weightless, like a leaf turning lazy circles in still air.
There was no cold. No heat. No edges.
Only the soft, soundless pressure of nowhere brushing against what might have once been skin.

Still here. He tried to hold the thought, but it fluttered apart before he could finish it.

Faces flicked at the edges of awareness- washed-out memories that refused to settle.

A crooked grin ..Robin.
A frantic gesture ..Dustin!
The way sunlight once cut across the Byers living room.

They drifted by like fish in the dark water, vanishing before he could grab hold.

Was that real? The question echoed, thin and metallic.

Was any of it? His voice came back wrong- stretched, hollow.

Even his own name sounded foreign when he tried it again. Steve… Harrington. Letters with no weight.

Sometimes- maybe only in the cracks between nothings- he thought he heard something. A shuffle. A breath. A low, mechanical thrum like engines buried miles beneath the earth. But each time he strained to listen, it receded until he wasn’t sure it had ever existed.

Loneliness should have hurt.

But here, loneliness was only another texture- smooth, quiet, almost gentle. It seeped into him until he couldn’t tell where the void ended and he began.

He tried to picture Eddie. Just the outline of a smile, the warmth that used to hum deep in his chest.

For a heartbeat- if heartbeats still counted- he felt it: a flash of brown eyes, the scrape of a laugh. Then it dissolves like smoke caught in a slow wind.

Nothing.

The emptiness stretched again, infinite and patient.

He floated, weightless and unmoored. No hunger. No fear.

Only the silent drift of someone who might once have been Steve Harrington, waiting for a world that might never call him back.

---

At first, there was nothing. Just the same endless drift- soundless, shapeless, infinite.

Then- faint as a breath through concrete- something moved in the dark.

A sound.

A voice.

Or maybe, just a vibrating masquerading as one. Soft, warbled, the syllables bending until they were barely more than ripples in deep water. It pressed against the edge of his awareness like a fingertip against thin ice.

“...a…ke…up…”

His brow would have furrowed if he still had a face.

The sound was too distorted, almost as if it were underwater- a whisper dragged through the void. He tried to lean toward it. Or at least toward where he thought it came from- but the effort only scattered the faint pulse into nothing.

Silence swallowed it again.. Maybe he’d imagined it?

Then-

There-

Another ripple. Closer this time.

“...ee…ve…you…nee…d…to…”

The words twisted, broke apart, reformed wrong.

But the need cut through, low and urgent, a tremor passing through the void. So slight he thought it was just another memory trying to surface.

And then he felt it again.
Except it.. Wasn’t?
Not outside. It was.. Inside him.

A heartbeat. Thin and fragile, as if coming from miles away. A weak, distant thud, faint as a moth’s wings.

He clung to it instinctively, begging it not to go.

Another beat followed. Then another. Faster. Louder.

Until it filled the dark- a dull, thumping rhythm that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Too loud. Too close.

He would have flinched if the void hadn’t pinned him still.

The voice returned, clearer now. Not soft. But steady, neutral, almost flat.

“...Wake…Up…”

The command sliced through the dark like a wire drawn taut. His chest jolted.

And suddenly-

Sensation bled back into him in ragged pieces.

Fingers first. A distant tingling, pins of fire crawling under skin he wasn’t sure he still had. They twitched against something rough and uneven. Rock? It was.. Cold. And slick. He tried to curl them, but they felt too heavy, foreign, as if they belonged to someone else.

Another heartbeat hammered through him. The darkness seemed to thin around him.

Legs next. A dull, throbbing awareness of weight.

Then his back. Every inch of it blooming with an ache as though a thousand needles pressed into his muscles.

Still, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t even turn his head.

The voice surged closer, cutting sharp through the roar of blood in his ears. “Steve. Wake. Up.”

Louder now. Too loud.

Then-

Pain detonated.

It didn’t start in a single place. It burst everywhere all at once. A white-hot flood tearing through nerves he’d forgotten belonged to him.

It was indescribable, raw and absolute. Every inch of him set ablaze.

His throat convulsed on instinct- a silent scream clawing its way up- but no sound escaped him. Each breath, or the memory of breath, felt like glass shards dragging down his windpipe.

Wake up.

The command struck like a gunshot.

His eyes snapped open.

Light- real, brutal light- punched into them, searing after so long in darkness.

The world lurched into focus in violent fragments; jagged grey rocks inches from his face; a smear of black-red blood dark and slick, a sky washed in fading blue and iron clouds.

The metallic stink of his own blood hit next- thick, coppery, overwhelming.

Water sloshed somewhere closer- then closer. Cold spray licking across his right side.

He gasped. The first real breath felt like knives tearing down his throat. His chest seized against it, ribs screaming.

He lay twisted across a bed of uneven, sharp rocks at… The bottom of the quarry.

His left leg wouldn’t move. His right arm hardly responded. Blood clung warm and sticky to his hairline. More pooled beneath his shoulder and hips. Each shallow inhale dragged the scent of wet stone and iron across his tongue.

A faint wave rolled in with the wind and broke against his hip. The water’s chill cutting through the feverish heat of blood and pain, shocking, undeniable.

Sound returned all at once. The slow lap of water. The faint hiss of wind skimming across the pit. The weak, but frantic, uneven drum of his heart- real and ragged.

Steve tried to move and intense agony ripped through him, sharp enough to blot out the quarry walls in black spots. His jaw locked on a strangled groan that barely made it past scorched vocal cords.

He blinked hard, forcing the sky back into focus through the pain.

Empty.

No Eddie. No armed men. No heartbeats but his own. No voices. Nothing. Just the hollow rasp of his own breathing.

Only the imposing wall of the quarry rising above him like cold stone sentinels.

The voice was gone now too. No warning. No comfort.

Just the echo of its final command- Wake up- and the brutal certainty that he had.

How long have I been here?

The thought scraped through his skull like broken glass.
The last thing he remembered- running. Eddie. A shove. Endless falling.

His worst nightmare turned reality.

The sun had been setting. When Eddie.. His chest constricted until it felt like he might crack in half. He forced his eyes shut, willing his breathing to slow before panic could take hold.

The sun had been setting when Eddie.. When.. The sun had been setting. And now it was.. Rising?

A pale glare burned against his eyelids. Morning.

The sun was rising.

His stomach dropped. How long had he been lying down here? Hours? An entire night? Days? Long enough for the moon to climb and die. Long enough for Eddie- No. He cut the thought off with a sharp inhale that scraped his throat raw. Did the others rush out here and find it empty? Did they think that they were-...

The air smelled of damp stone and iron- heavy and metallic. Blood. His blood. It coated his tongue with every shallow breath.

He forced his eyes back open, glaring against the harsh light. The sky overhead blazed an anemic gold, streaked with soft violet where the quarry walls caught the light. He slowly forced himself to sit up, and immediately regretted it.

Intense blinding pain flared through him, vision going black. He clamped his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe through it. Forcing in each painful breath until his vision stopped swimming.

He slowly opened his eyes again when the world seemed to stay still, and cataloged the wreckage that was his body.

Right arm. He hadn’t noticed it before now. Hanging at an unnatural angle, shoulder dropped low. -Great.-
Left shoulder. He could still feel the bullet wound sluggishly bleeding, each movement or flex of his arm sending pain radiating through him.
Left leg. -Christ- Twisted at a sickening angle beneath torn denim. The bone bulged against skin stretched too tight, it made his stomach lurch.
His back. A painful bullet he could still feel lodged under his- he leaned forward, biting down on his lip hard to suppress a scream- under his ribs on the.. Right.

A thin whine broke from his throat before he could stop it. Even that hurt.

“Fucking.. Great.” He rasped, voice a ragged scrape of sound. The words dissolved into a cough that tasted of copper and grit. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat as another lull of water rose over him, taking the time to gather what little strength he had.

He knew what had to come next.

Reset the shoulder. Rebreak the leg. Or bleed out waiting. -Nothing to do but fix it. Over and done with. I’ve reset bones before, plenty of times. Accidents happen . Just need to.. To..-

His good hand trembled violently as he slid it across his chest toward the dislocated joint. Each inch of movement sent fresh spikes of agony through the bullet wound.

His breath hitched in pain. “One..” He whispered through clenched teeth. “Two..” His fingers found the joint, slick and coated with dried blood from the cutting rocks. “Three-”

He shoved upward.

A wet, grinding pop cracked through the silence. Pain detonated down his arm like a lightning strike.

A guttural snarl tore for his still healing throat before he could choke it back, raw and animalistic, echoing off the quarry walls. His vision went blinding white; for a moment the quarry disappeared entirely. He thought he might black out completely.

But he rode it out- lungs dragging in thin, shaky gasps until the world edged back into focus, heart thudding like a drum in his chest.

“Okay,” he croaked when he could finally breathe again, the word shredding to nothing. “Okay.. It’s fine. I can.. Do this… I can do this.”

His eyes dropped down to his mangled leg.

The sight turned his stomach, a sound rising in his throat- somewhere between a whine and a growl- that he swallowed before it could escape. A pale, wrong shape jutting against mottled flesh. The thought of touching it made a shiver roll through his sweat-soaked skin.

He flexed his newly-set arm, testing it. Pain radiated like lightning through the still swollen joint, but it held. His healing was slowly kicking in, slower than it should be. -Good enough.-

There was no other choice.

He slid shaking fingers toward the break, the smell or blood sharpening with every inch. The skin was slick with sweat and blood and the world tilted, a grey haze crawling at the edge of his vision.

He gently, though he wanted to scream with each touch, pressed his leg down against the jagged stone for leverage.

“Just one more.” He muttered. “Fast. Don’t think. Make sure it’s clean. Remember what Doc said. Just-”

He braced- heart hammering in his chest, jaw clenching until it ached- muscles coiling tight, and shoved.

The snap was wet and sickening, like a branch splintering under a heavy weight.
Pain exploded, white and all encompassing. For a heartbeat there was nothing but blinding light and the roar of blood in his ears.

The scream tore from him raw and guttural, echoing against the quarry walls before he clamped it down with both blood-slick hands.

His body bowed forward, trembling violently as the pain tore through him. Spots burst across his vision, bright and blooming, pulsing. He sucked frantic breaths through clenched teeth, throat rasping raw. His stomach lurched, threatening to empty itself onto his lap.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. Not yet.

The mantra beat in time with his racing heart. Somewhere beyond the ringing in his ears, water lapped lazily against stone, a slow, indifferent rhythm. The morning smelled of limestone and blood, of life going on without him. The world kept moving while Steve Harrington fought, tooth and nail, to stay in it.

The world didn’t so much fade as collapse inward, the quarry walls folding into a heavy, suffocating dark. His heartbeat was the last thing to leave him- slow, thick, like someone drumming from inside his ribs.

He passed out.

Wake up.

He came back to the strong metallic taste of blood and the soft drip of water somewhere behind him.

A groan scraped from his throat before his eyes opened, rough and dry as sandpaper. Sound felt distant, muffled, as though he were underwater again. For a few sluggish seconds, he wasn’t sure if he’d moved at all.

Then the pain found him- sharp, immediate, undeniable.

His leg. A deep, angry throb pulsed from the break, each beat of his heart sending electric shocks down the limb. The skin around it felt swollen, tight, mottled with heat and dampness where blood had soaked through his torn jeans. Every twitch of muscle felt like a live wire running through him.

His shoulder burned- a dull, grinding ache. The swelling seemed to have gone down while he was unconscious, leaving behind a bruising throb that pulsed in time with the bullets still sluggishly bleeding. He groaned at the warm stickiness he could feel coating his back, his torn shirt chilled and clinging to his skin.

But the bullet buried under his ribs was now his biggest problem, one he couldn’t do anything about. A cruel, constant knife-edge that flared with every breath, every tiny movement. Just inhaling sent sparks of fire radiating through his chest. But he couldn’t stop it, because at the moment he swore he needed to breathe.

His own heartbeat felt like an enemy now, thudding against his wounds, pushing more blood where it shouldn’t go.

For a long moment Steve simply laid there, letting the smell of earth and damp air settle around him. Rough, sharp stone against his back. The soft lap of water at his side. The world still moving on without him.

He couldn’t stay here.

Then a thought cut through the haze like a knife:

The lab could find him. A search team could come back and drag him in before he could warn anyone, before he could find Eddie. Or worse- well.. Only slightly worse- something else could.. A demogorgon might already be out here, drawn to the copper-sweet scent of his blood. It was a miracle one hadn’t found him already. The idea of its slick claws scraping down the rock, of its face blooming open around him, made his stomach tight in cold fear.

And Eddie-

Steve’s eyes snapped open wide, panic flaring. Eddie was still out there. Maybe hurt. Definitely captured. Or.. Or maybe he ran. Maybe he was bleeding out in some other hole in the ground. And every second he wasted here was another Eddie might not have.

A broken, breathless sound escaped his throat as he forced trembling hands against the wet rock. His fingers slipped on sweat and blood. He grit his teeth until his jaw ached, muscles screaming as he dragged himself upright inch by inch.

Each movement sent fresh lighting bolt waves of pain through his body- ribs grinding, shoulder screaming, leg burning white-hot. Tears welled but he swallowed the urge to sob.

Cry later. Move now.

His arms trembled violently as he dragged himself up, the quarry walls swimming in and out of focus. Each breath felt like broken glass grinding under his ribs. But he sucked in shallow gasps anyway, forcing himself through the pain, sweat running cold down his spine. -I’ve had worse.-

He tilted his head back. And froze.

In front of him.. The quarry wall stretched impossibly high, an imposing face of jagged rock streaked with morning light. The top was a distant blur against a pale, rising sky. Far, far beyond the reach of his shaking limbs. It looked insurmountable. A ridiculous thought to even attempt.

But there was no other way.

He closed his eyes and centered on the single thought that cut through all else: Eddie.

Eddie hurt. Eddie alone. Eddie waiting, for him.

His eyes opened with a sharp, predatory edge flickering in their depths. With a low, painful, shuddering breath, he knew what he had to do.

A faint prickling started in his fingertips, followed by a hard ache.

Claws slid free with a muted click, catching the morning light in a dull, deadly gleam. His hands shook, blood slicked their ends. He flexed once, feeling the stone bite back.

“Okay.” He rasped, voice shredded but steady enough to hear himself. I can do this… For Eddie.”

He reached up, every muscle quivering from exhaustion.

The first strike of claw into stone sent a sharp vibration through his injured arm. Pain flared, but the rock held. So he dragged his body up, forcing his legs to bear weight they had no business carrying right now.

He pulled.
Breathed.
Pulled again.

His still healing limbs screamed with every inch, a vicious tearing pain that threatened to send him careening back down. The pain from the bullets was just as bad, his stomach threatening to empty itself with each movement, shoulder searing in agony, ribs begging for relief.

He pulled.
Breathed.
Pulled again.

Again.
Claws into rock.
Pull.
Breathe.

The climb became a rhythm of suffering- stone splitting under claw, blood slicking the path below him. Each movement tore something- skin, muscle, bone- but he kept going. He had to. His thoughts married until there was nothing left but the grind of stone under claw and a single name pounding through his head.

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

Blood slicked the rocks, leaving a dark, wet trail where his body scraped into limestone. His breaths came in ragged bursts, each one threatening to send him sliding right back into the pit.

But the image of Eddie- laughing, alive, waiting- burned behind his eyes, driving him up.

Higher.
Higher still.

Because above the quarry wall, beyond the pain and blood and brutal dawn, Eddie was waiting.

And Steve Harrington refused to die at the bottom of this pit.

---

About halfway up- he couldn’t really be bothered to tell it was just rock after rock- Steve’s body finally began to betray him.

His claws scraped uselessly against the limestone, slipping through damp grit as his arms trembled violently beneath his own weight. Each muscle burned, each pull sending fresh sparks of pain screaming from his mangled shoulder and broken leg. His lungs dragged in air that felt too thin to matter, each breath a wet, rattling gasp that barely kept him conscious.

Steve pressed his forehead to the rock, desperate for the small mercy of its chill. The stone bled its cold into his overheated skin, a fleeting shock against the feverish tremor running through him. Pebbles broke loose beneath his boots, skittering down into the dark water below. The sound echoed like a countdown.

He clenched his eyes shut and held there, forehead grinding against the rock, the world reduced to the hammering of his pulse and the raw rasp of stone against claw. His breath shuddered out, a harsh, broken sound that almost- almost- became a sob. He swallowed it back, teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached.

Then it hit him.

Not a sound. Not a thought. Just.. Hollow.

At first it was just a flicker, a faint wrongness sliding cold beneath his ribs. Then it swelled, sudden and absolute, like a wave breaking over his spine and dragging everything with it.

He couldn’t feel Eddie.

The bond- their bond- wasn’t just faint. It wasn’t closed. It was gone.

It felt like someone had reached inside his chest and ripped out a piece of him, leaving nothing but raw, empty space. The quiet wasn’t distance. It wasn’t the familiar static of Eddie being too far away. It was nothing. Absolute, echoing nothing.

“No-” The word scraped from his throat, cracked and breathless. His claws dug deeper into the rock until stone dust cut into his palms. “No, no no…”

He reached for it instinctively, the way he always had. Pushed his mind toward the warm, electric thread that had always been there even when Eddie was miles away. But there was nothing to grasp. No tug, no hum. Only the vast, merciless void of where Eddie should have been.

His stomach turned to ice. The quarry tilted beneath him, the climb stretching suddenly higher, crueler. It was like those days in the lab before their eyes had met. There was a hole in his chest that he couldn’t fill. Except this time.. He knew what was missing.

Above him. Silence.

No footsteps crunching on gravel. No distant heartbeats waiting at the top. Just the slow drip of water and the sound of his own ragged breathing.

They were gone.

He was gone.

Eddie… Eddie was gone.

The thought landed like a physical blow, folding him against the stone. A sharp, animal noise broke out of him- somewhere between a sob and a snarl- before he bit it back. Tears blurred the sharp rocks just inches from his face, turning pale limestone into a smear of gray. His chest heaved, ribs screaming against the bullet with every desperate breath.

He wanted to believe he was wrong. That the bond was just buried under the pain and exhaustion, waiting for him to dig deep enough. But no matter how far he reached- mind, body, soul- there was nothing waiting for him. Nothing but the hollow ache of absence.

The man he loved- God, he’d never even said it- was gone.

And the world above the stone wall was empty.

---

The walls went on forever.

Steve’s claws scraped for purchase on stone, every gouge sending up tiny avalanches of grit that sung his eyes and rained into the black water below. His body was a ruin- arms trembling from the climb, ribs screaming with each breath, shoulder a pulsing knot of fire.

Blood slicked the rock beneath his fingers, fresh and tacky where the stones had reopened cuts that hadn’t had a chance to close. He could feel the feverish heat rolling off his skin, damp with sweat, weighed down in the summer air.

When he was finally able to see the top, the world above finally began to bleed through the ringing in his ears.

At first, just muffled murmurs- indistinct echoes carrying on the damp air. Hardly audible over the rasp of his breathing and the scrape of his claws. Then a sudden sharp voice broke through the static.

“...told you. They weren’t here last night. They’re not just gonna-”

Hopper.

Steve froze, every shredded muscle trembling as he clung to the rock. He forced himself to listen, heart pounding hard enough to shake the stone.

“They’re not just gonna be here-” Hopper’s voice rolled down the quarry like a low thunderclap, edged with frustration and fear.

And then- others. More voices, layered and desperate. Dustin’s frantic pitch. Robin’s sharp inhale. Lucas’s low, steady insistence. The kids. Hopper. Wayne.

-They’re here.-

Something fierce and aching surged through his exhausted body. He ground his teeth until his jaw burned and dragged himself upward. Claws bit deep into stone, muscles screaming as he hauled himself inch by inch.

Every movement was agony. His leg throbbed like a live wire. The bullet in his shoulder sent electric shocks down his arm every time he reached higher. His breath came out in ragged, wet gasps, echoing against the rock like an animal cornered.

But the voices were clearer now. Real. Waiting.

The lips of the quarry came into view- a thin slice of pale morning sky that felt impossibly far. He locked onto it like salvation and forced his ruined body to move.

His claws slipped. Pebbled skittered down the cliff in a cruel rattle. He snarled under his breath, shoved through the pain, and lunged upward one final time.

His hand slammed over the edge with a wet smack, claws biting into gritty stone. The jolt ripped a cry from his throat, a mix between a groan and a sob. He clung there, legs trembling violently beneath him, chest heaving in ragged bursts as he tried to haul himself up with the last of his fading strength.

Above, the voices cut sharper through the morning fog.

“Listen, kids,” Hopper’s voice, sharp and fraying, cracked across the quarry. “They’re not-”

A shout cut him off, ringing across the quarry like a gunshot. “There!” Someone- Dustin? Robin? Maybe it was Jonathan. He couldn’t tell.

Steve barely had time to register it before two pairs of strong hands latched under his armpits. The sudden upward yank wrenched his shoulders, sending a white-hot bolt of pain screaming through his body. A strangled, broken scream tore out of hm, echoing down the stone walls and through the surrounding woods.

“Careful- careful!” Hopper barked.

The hands dragged him up and over the edge. His boots scraping uselessly against the lips before his body finally cleared the rim, sprawling flat onto cold dirt and dew-slick pebbles. He lay there gasping, the earth spinning beneath him as every nerve in his body screamed.

Faces swam into view above him just before he clenched his eyes shut- blurred halos against the stabbing morning sky. Hopper crouched near his head, eyes scanning with a soldier's precision, hands soaked with blood- Steve’s blood. Joyce knelt just beyond him, one hand pressed to her mouth. Robin hovered a few feet back, hands fisted at her sides. Behind them, the kids clustered tight- Dustin, Will, Lucas, Mike, Erica, and Eleven- all wide-eyed and pale. Nancy stood with Jonathan and Max just behind them, tension written across every face.

Wayne knelt closest, weathered features drawn tight with fear, hands hovering inches from Steve’s torn body like he was afraid to hurt him further. “Steve?” His voice cracked, soft and almost pleading. “..Son?”

Steve forced his eyes open. The effort sent a fresh wave of pain through his ribs. He must look a mess. Covered in his own blood, clothes torn, soaked from the water below. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a wet, broken rasp.

The dam inside him finally broke. The chaos of the quarry- Dustin’s panicked shouting, Jonathan’s quick reassurance to Will- “he’s alive, he’s alive, it’s okay, he’s alive-, Nancy’s quiet, startled gasp- blurred into a dull roar.

He tried to get his body under control as every breath felt like a punishment. The pain wasn’t sharp anymore; but it was everywhere, a deep, throbbing ache that made him feel like one massive wound barely held together.

“Steve-” Robin started, voice trembling.

“The Lab,” he croaked finally, the words scraping his raw throat.

The quarry fell silent.

“They… They came after Eddie,” he forced out, breath hitching around every syllable. “Came.. Came after us.”

His chest seized, a violent tremor shaking him until Wayne’s steadying hand pressed lightly against his shoulder.

“They took him.” The confession cracked out of him, jagged and small. “The Lab. The-” He swallowed hard, throat burning. “The fucking Grey Room-” he spit the words out like a poison. “-the have him.”

A horrified gasp rippled through the group. Dustin made a strangled noise. Max whispered a sharp curse. Wayne’s palm trembled where he moved it to the side of Steve’s head. “Oh, kid..” He murmured, voice breaking. But Steve ignored them. This was more important.

“Eddie he… Shut up,” he suddenly rasped, the sound scraping his raw throat. “Listen!”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to hurt.

The rest of it tumbled out in a feverish rush. “Eddie he..” His jaw trembled as he tried to keep the words steady. “He pushed me. Over the edge to.. So they wouldn’t take me back. He-” His voice cracked, and the words dissolved into a sob he couldn’t swallow down.

The quarry blurred. His breath hitched and stuttered, body shaking uncontrollably. Hands were suddenly on him- Hopper’s firm grip checking wounds, Joyce whispering frantic reassurances, Wayne’s shaky fingers brushing dirt from his hair.

He whined softly, claws slowly retracting. “I.. My leg was.. I had to-” He sucked in a sharp breath at Joyce’s horrified gasp. “My arm too. It was.. And.. And I.. I had to set them back and..” His words dissolved into a trembling exhale. His other hand slowly reached up, shaking as he weakly reached to cover Wayne’s.

“Bullets,” he rasped suddenly, as if remembering where the pain was coming from. “Two. One in my s-shoulder and-” He winces, clutching weakly at Wayne’s hand. “The other in my back. Slowing my… Can’t heal… Need them out-” He sucked in a soft breath, trying to steady his voice. “I can’t heal all the way.” He whispered, the confessional tasting like iron and fear.

The group erupted again- voices overlapping in alarm- until Steve let out a low, almost involuntary growl that cut through them all.

“I can.. I can get them out.” He continued, voice low but steadier now. “I just… They’re in a bad spot. Could.. Use help.” He swallowed, throat scraping like sandpaper. “Wayne. Your truck had those.. Long tweezers. Should reach the one in my shoulder.”

He finally focused back on the people around him, meeting Hopper’s grim stare, then Wayne’s pale, stricken face. “The one on my back it’s.. Lodged under my ribs. Might be trickier.” He admitted, voice dropping to a hoarse murmur. But it has to come out. Both of them… Before they find me again.”

He looked back up, the sky about the quarry swimming around them. He missed the horrified look Wayne and Hopper shared. His breathing still came harsh and uneven, his gaze now settling slowly onto Wayne. “Please,” he whispered. “I can’t wait for them to heal around it. Not with Eddie… Not with Eddie still out there.”

Wayne’s jaw tightened as he stared down at Steve, at the sweat beading across his unusually pale, blood-streaked face. His free hand slid into the pocket of his own jacket, keys jingling softly as he yanked them free and tossed them toward Dustin without looking up.

“Truck. Glove box.” Wayne ordered, voice rough but even. “The blue pair. Now.”

Dustin caught the keys with a startled jerk, eyes wide and wet. “Got it!” He shouted, turning on his heels and sprinting into the trees towards the truck, sneakers scraping dirt.

Still crouched low, Hopper was already reaching into his own pocket. He snapped his keyring free and slapped it into Joyce’s palm. “Big med kit in the back of my truck.” He ordered, voice clipped but calm. “Red box. Under the green blanket. Quickly.”

Joyce didn’t hesitate, she was on her feet and vanishing into the trees before the last word left his mouth, springing after Dustin, it was quicker than taking the path.

The clearing quieted, leaving only the sound of Steve’s harsh, uneven breathing and the faint rustle of early morning wind through the trees. The others shifted instinctively, forming a loose, protective ring around him as if sheer presence could keep the world out.

Wayne eased down until he was sitting in the dirt beside him, his rough palm finding its way to the side of Steve’s sweat-damp hair. He began to card his fingers slowly through the tangled, blood mottled strands, brushing them back from his clammy forehead. “Easy, son. We’ve got you.” His voice was low, coaxing. “You hang on now. We’ll get you fixed right as rain.”

He gave the faintest nod, eyes glassy. He wasn’t sure if the words helped- his body was one giant nerve filled with pain, every throb of his shoulder and ribs a stark reminder of the bullets lodged inside- but he appreciated the effort. Appreciated the quiet, steady scrape of Wayne’s calloused fingers through his hair.

The others hovered nearly on top of one another, their faces pale and drawn. He caught fragments of their expressions through the blur of his vision: Robin’s hands fisted tight as her sides, Jonathan’s jaw clenched, Nancy pressing her lips together until they went white. He couldn’t bear to meet their eyes right now. It wasn’t to be rude; he simply couldn’t hold that much worry, that much fear, on top of his own.

Minutes blurred, each one stretching longer than the last. Then- Dustin crashed back through the brush face flushed with a pair of long blue tweezers, sliding down rock as he rushed over. Joyce close behind with a heavy red kit gripped tight against her chest.

Dustin skidded to a stop and thrust the tweezers toward Wayne. “Here-here!”

Wayne took them with a brief nod, rough fingers clamping around cold metal. “Good job, kid.”

Joyce dropped the box beside Hopper, flipping the latches with quick efficient motions. Hopper immediately dug through its contents, pulling free a pair of heavy-duty scissors, rolls of bandages, antiseptic spray, sealed wipes, and thick pads of gauze. Everyone backed up to give him room.

“Alright.” Hopper started, voice firm but measured as he glanced at Wayne. “Let’s get him upright. Nice and slow.”

Wayne shifted closer, lopping one arm under Steve’s neck and injured arm. Hopper slid his own hands under Steve’s back and other arm, careful of the wounds. Together they eased him forward. Steve let out a low, broken sound, teeth clenched tight as he bit back a scream, every muscle trembling as he leaned heavily against Wayne’s chest. He could barely keep himself sitting; Wayne’s solid frame was the only thing holding him up.

As they tipped him slightly forward, the ruined fabric of his shirt peeled away from his skin with a sickening tug. Wayne held him still while Hopper cut away the blood-stiffened shirt with a hiss of scissors. The fabric dropped from his skin with a wet, sucking sound that drew several shocked gasps from the group.

The damage was worse than they could’ve imagined, his back and sides a brutal map of gashes and torn flesh. Deep gashes crisscrossed his back from the harsh rock bed he landed on, bruises blooming black and purple across his ribs. Both bullet wounds leaked sluggish streams of dark red, the flesh around them angry and swollen.

Robin made a small, choked noise and covered her mouth. Dustin flinched backward a step despite himself. Nancy turned sharply, pressing a fist to her lips, while Jonathan muttered something sharp under his breath and looked away.

Hopper stayed focused, jaw set. He pulled a thick strip of leather from the med kit and held it up to Steve’s line of sight. “Bite down,” he instructed, voice low but firm. “I won’t lie. This is gonna hurt like hell.”

Steve looked down at it then up to Hopper’s worried stare. He managed a single, weary nod. Wayne helped him sit up a little more as he leaned forward to guide it between his teeth, and he bit down. Hard. He grimaced as the rough taste of hide hit his tongue.

Wayne tightened his grip, not holding both his shoulders firmly, locking Steve in place against his chest. Steve was too weak to fight out of it, not that he wanted to, and the pressure was comforting, a silent promise that Wayne would stay with him.

Hopper snapped on a pair of gloves with a quick tug, then took the tweezers from Wayne. “Alright, kid.” He was kneeling now. “First one’s gonna be the shoulder. Stay with me. You’re gonna feel pressure, then it’s gonna hurt, burn even. I need you breathing slow- don’t hold it.”

He managed a muffled grunt around the leather, sweat already slicking his brow.

Hopper leaned in, eyes narrowing as he examined the wound. The bullet sat deep, but visible. A dull metallic glint inside angry, inflamed, bloody flesh. “Okay.” Hopper muttered more to himself than anyone else. “Angle’s clean. Let’s get this out in one go.”

The cold metal tweezers against his torn skin made Steve’s entire body try and flinch away. Hopper steadied the shoulder with his free hand as Wayne kept a tight grip on him. Hopper began to work the bullet loose with slow, careful motions, twisting slightly as he tried to dislodge it from where his body had attempted to heal around it.

Pain flared white-hot, immediate and vicious. His entire frame arched involuntarily, a guttural scream tearing from his throat and into the leather clenched tight between his teeth. His claws shot back out and weakly flexed against Wayne’s arm. But Wayne held firm, muttering soft, calming words into his ear.

“Easy, son. I got you. I got you. Breathe, just breathe nice and slow. You’re alright, you’re tough as they come. Almost there.”

His breath came in sharp, wet gasps, every muscle shuddering as Hopper continued to narrate in a calm, even tone. “I’ve got it kid… Pulling steady… Almost free. Stay with me, Harrington. Don’t you check out on me.”

Another sharp rug sent straight agony slicing through his chest. His muffled scream vibrating against the leather. Wayne’s voice continued constant, quiet, and steady despite the tremor in his hands now. “That’s it, Steve. You’re alright. Just a little more. I’m right here.”

Finally, with a slick, wet, metallic scrape, the bullet slid free. Hopper held the small blood-covered slug up for a split second. Before dropping it onto a sterile pad. “Shoulder’s clear.” He announced. “Bleeding’s heavy but manageable. Antiseptic next.”

Steve sagged heavily into Wayne’s hold, body trembling uncontrollably, sweat and blood mingling down his back. Wayne’s hand brushed through his hair, slow and careful as Hopper reached for the spray.

“Round one’s almost done.” Hopper said quietly. His eyes landed on Wayne in a silent question, holding up the antiseptic spray. Wayne gave a single tight nod, his grip tightening back around Steve’s arms. He was firm but careful, a wall of strength for Steve to lean into.

Steve only weakly against the thick strip of leather, eyes half-lidded and glassy. The pain throbbed through his shoulder, but a single thought cut through the haze, unshaken. Eddie. Just gotta get through this. Find Eddie.

His back arched violently at the hiss of the spray. A strangled scream tore past the leather clamped between his teeth as he fell forward against Wayne’s chest, trembling like a leaf. His vision blurred, black edging into the corners, breath hitching in ragged, uneven pulls. The world tilted, spinning on a cruel axis.

Wayne tightened his hold, murmuring softly into Steve’s sweat-damp hair. “Easy now, son. You're alright. Breath for me- slow, slow. I’ve got you. You’re gonna be alright, you’re gonna be alright. Just a little bit more now.” His voice was hurried, but each word was a quiet tether dragging Steve back from the dizzying edge.

Hopper worked quickly, wiping away the old blood and new, sealing the shoulder with a neat layer of gauze and medical tape. “Shoulder’s patched, for now.” He announced, his tone even but rough with urgency. “Not pretty, but it’ll hold.”

A quiet whine escaped Steve’s clenched teeth, throat tight. Even through the haze he could feel it- his body’s strange healing, reluctantly starting to knit the damaged muscle, slower than usual, but there. A tiny mercy.

Wayne bent Steve forward slightly, shifting his weight to give Hopper a clear view of the wound just beneath his ribs. “Alright, son.” Wayne murmured, brushing a thumb against the back of Steve’s neck in slow, grounding circles, more for himself than Steve at this point. “One down. One to go. You just keep holdin’ on for me, you hear? Just one more.”

Hopper crouched lower, his shadow falling across the jagged tears at Steve’s side. Dried and fresh blood crusting in dark rings around the wound, sticky and warm. He grimaced. “Kid.. I’m not gonna lie to you.” Hopper started, voice blunt but not unkind. “This one’s deep. Looks like it lodged itself just under a rib. There’s some clotting that’s already started- body tried to close it up. That means I’ve gotta clean it first, remove any blockage, and it’s gonna hurt worse than the shoulder… A lot worse. But I’m gonna be as gentle as I can.”

Steve sucked in a shaky breath, the sound almost a sob. His forehead dropped against Wayne’s shoulder, the older man’s shirt soaking up sweat and blood. “Just… Do it.” He whispered, voice raw and barely audible. “Had worse.”

Wayne’s palm came up to cradle the back of his head, fingers combing gently through damp hair, but also keeping him still. “That’s it, son. Brave boy. I got you. Don’t you worry about a thing but breathin’ for me.”

If he’d focused long enough, he’d be able to smell the WorryFearPain rolling off Wayne in thick waves. But he could hardly focus on breathing.

Hopper snapped on a fresh pair of gloves and drew a clean wipe from his kit. “Gonna start with the surface.” He narrated steadily, his gravelly voice a constant undercurrent. “Cleaning away the dried blood so I can see what I’m dealing with. You’ll feel pressure, maybe a burn. I’ll try not to touch the wound itself. I need you not to hold your breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

The first cold swipe around the wound made Steve jolt violently, a strangled noise breaking against the leather. His claws dug weakly into Wayne’s sleeve, trembling with the effort not to pull away.

“Good, good.” Hopper added, dabbing carefully. “Almost clean. It doesn’t look like it touched your rib, from what I can tell, but the bullet’s sitting deep, just under the last one. You got real lucky there.. Tweezers should reach if I angle it right.”

Wayne also kept up his steady stream of quiet comfort, lips pressing against his hair. “You’re doin’ real good, Steve. Strongest damn kid I’ve ever seen. Just a little longer, alright? Got a whole team here makin’ sure you walk outta this.”

Hopper reached over for the tweezers he’d cleaned. “Going in,” he warned. “Small pinch at first. Then pressure. Then.. Tell me if it feels like I’m hitting bone.”

He gave the faintest nod, jaw clenched. He bit down hard to the leather as the cold tip of metal slid into the wound.

The first probe sent a shock of agony through his body. He let out a muffled cry, back arching despite Wayne’s tight hold. Hopper muttered under his breath, adjusting his angle. “Deep track… Got tissue swelling around it. Bullet’s wedged tight. Gotta work it loose kid, I’m sorry.”

The tweezers pressed deeper, metal scraping faint against his rib. His entire body jerked, a ragged, blood-curdling scream ripping free as the leather slipped from his teeth and fell into the dirt. His head snapped back toward Hopper, eyes wide and glassy with pain.

“Hold him!” Hopper barked.

Before anyone could move, Steve’s hips bucked violently, instinct driving him to twist away from the invasion of pain. Joyce lunged forward immediately, dropping to her knees to brace his hips with both arms. “I’ve got him! I’ve got him!” She cried, voice shaking.

Wayne tightened his grip, moving to hold around Steve’s check, pulling him in tight, one hand coming back up to hold Steve’s head to his shoulder. “Easy, kid, easy!” He said urgently, voice rough with emotion. “Don’t you go thrashin’ now. I got you. Just breathe, Steve. You’re gonna be alright.”

Several wounded sounds came from behind him as he sobbed into Wayne’s shoulder. Robin’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide and wet. Dustin took a step forward like he wanted to help, his knuckles white as he gripped the hem of his shirt. Even Mike stood rigid, tears streaking down his cheeks despite his desperate attempt to look unaffected.

Hopper’s voice cut through the noise, low but commanding. “Bullet’s deep. Almost got a grip. Don’t move, Harrington. I’m right on it.”

The tweezers scraped again, digging past stubborn muscle. His scream broke into a raw, keening sound, breath coming in short panicked bursts.

Wayne pressed his cheek against Steve’s temple, murmuring through each sound. “Stay with me, Steve. Please. You’re doin’ so damn good. Just a few more seconds. In and out, nice and slow. You’re okay. I promise you’re gonna be okay.”

“I’ve got it.” Hopper said suddenly, voice tight with concentration. “Tip of the slug- just need to free it from the ribs edge… Steady now…”

A final wet twist of the tweezers sent another shock of white-hot agony tearing through his side. His scream echoed through the quarry, raw and shattering, before breaking into a strangled sob as his fangs- uncontrolled, desperate- sank into Wayne’s shoulder. His claws flexed weakly against Wayne’s shirt, slick with sweat and old blood.

“Got it!” Hopper barked, triumph butting through the heavy air. He slowly eased the tweezers back, the distorted piece of lead slick and crimson at their tip, glistening in the light. It hit the sterile pad with a sharp clink, a small, ugly sound that felt deafening after so much pain.

Wayne hissed quietly at the bite but never flinched away, his grip staying firm. “It’s out, son. You did it. That’s the worst of it,” he murmured, voice keeping him focused. Steve sagged forward, trembling so hard his entire frame shuddered against Wayne’s chest. Hopper was already moving with brisk precision, pressing clean gauze to the wound and wiping away the mess of blood.

“It’s okay, it’s alright.” Wayne soothed, brushing sweat-matted hair back from Steve’s forehead. “Just breathe now. I got you. You didn’t hurt me, y’hear? I’m fine. No need to cry, son.”

The forest around the buzzed back in his ears suddenly, small, unsteady sounds- hushed breaths, muffled gasps, the faint rustle of leaves. The weight of what had just happened settling like heavy fog. But Wayne’s voice cut through it all, steady and constant. “That’s it, Steve. In and out. We’ve got you. We’ve all got you.”

Hopper leaned back slightly, inspecting the fresh bandage and the slow seep of blood before he covered it. His eyes narrowed, then widened in faint disbelief. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “You can actually see it.. Your skin’s pulling together. Not all that fast, but it’s still doing it… Damn. Weirdest thing I’ve seen since..” He gave a rough shake of his head, a quiet huff of admiration. “Kid, you’re built different.. Quite literally.”

He gave a soft, shaky whine against Wayne, breath catching in even gasps as he tried to calm himself. He could feel how deep his fangs had sunk in Wayne’s shoulder, and terror coiled sharp in his gut, he’d never bitten one of them before. His voice cracked on a whisper, lips muffled around skin. “I… I didn’ mean- W’yne, I didn’ me’n to-” His body shook as he held back another sob, the effort to pull his fangs back only making them ache.

Wayne tightened his hold, one hand rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades, careful of his injuries. “Shh. None of that now. You’re not hurting me. Not a scratch that’ll matter. Just breathe, let it pass. Just feels like a cat scratch is all so quit y’er worrying.”

Dustin, who had been frozen halfway between his friends and Steve, finally inched closer once Hopper finished taping the bandages. Hopper sat back on his heels and declared gruffly, “Alright, Harrington. You’ll live.” A faint edge of humor in his emotion-thick voice. It broke the tension like a weak but welcome crack in the storm.

Dustin scrubbed a hand at the corner of his eyes quickly before crouching near Steve. He peered at the place where his fangs were buried in Wayne’s shoulder, his voice coming small and teary but laced with wonder. “That’s.. That’s actually kinda cool,” he said, sniffling hard. “I’ve never seen you bite anyone before. It’s uh.. Like.. Terrifying, but also. Really. Really cool.”

Steve made a soft, broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, his breath still shaking too badly for words.

The rest of the group seemed to take that as their cue, the trance of fear slowly breaking apart, piece by piece. Mike scrubbed furiously at his eyes, pretending it was just the dust. Robin let out a long, shaky breath and finally dropped her hands from her mouth. Nancy placed a hand on Jonath’s arm, who looked almost as pale as Steve. Joyce exhaled a deep sigh, her shoulders finally dropping from their rigid tension as she slowly let go of Steve, standing up to give him some much needed space.

Hopper stayed focused, reaching for antiseptic wipes and clean gauze as he shifted behind Steve. “Not done yet,” he muttered, settling back into the calm rhythm of triage. “Gotta clean the rest of these cuts, don’t wanna see if you're capable of infections, even if your healing seems to be working now.”

He worked methodically, wiping away blood and dirt from the long slashes across Steve’s back, carefully checking for any hidden debris. The strange half-healed edges of wounds made him shake his head again. “It’s unreal,” he said quietly, more to himself than anyone. “Skin’s already knitting. But.. Better safe than sorry.”

Steve flinched and hissed softly with each careful swipe but didn’t fight it. Hopper palpated the set shoulder and gently tested the alignment of his leg, nodding with grim approval. “Already healing. Set clean too.” He muttered. “Don’t wanna know how you knew how to do it. Don’t need any more nightmares tonight.”

Through it all, Wayne still kept up his soothing murmur, keeping Steve’s focus on him, away from the scents of fear still clinging to the air- not that he knew that. “Almost done now. You’re doin’ just fine. If you wanna drink so your healing can-” He stopped at the broken sound Steve let out. “Or not. We can get you some blood when we’re back home. It’s alright.”

With a shuddering breath he managed, with visible effort, to retract his fangs. The slow slide of enamel back to blunt teeth left him trembling in exhaustion. Weakly, almost dazed, he turned his head and pressed a small, shaky kiss to Wayne’s shoulder where the bite marks welled faintly.

A tear slid down his cheek as he whispered, broken and raw, “‘M sorry.”

Wayne’s hand came back up to cradle the back of his head, thumb brushing through his sweat-matted hair. “No.” He said firmly, voice warm but certain. “Don’t you apologize. We’re both okay. You didn’t hurt me. You hear me?.. We’re okay.”

Steve let out a fragile, hiccuping breath, eyes finally fluttering shut as the sounds of his family- because that’s what they were- settled around him like a shield.

---

It took several long quiet moments before Steve could piece himself back together. He stayed pressed against Wayne the entire time, clinging with the stubborn grip of someone who hadn’t yet convinced himself he was safe. His heartbeat thundering sluggish and heavy against his ribs, each pulse slowing over time, but a reminder that he was still alive.

Slowly, almost unwillingly, he let his eyes blink open.

The sky above them had shifted from bruised gray to a soft amber glow, the first edge of the sun cresting over the tree line. For a second, he just stared at it- the pale light crashing in the mist rising from the quarry below- before his voice cracked between them.

“It was a trap.” He whispered.

The low murmur of conversation around him stopped as if someone had flipped a switch. Even the birds seemed to hold their breath. He turned his head, laying his cheek against Wayne’s shoulder, eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the clearing. He still couldn’t look at any of them.

“The Lab,” he continued, words tasting like old blood. “They wanted us both. But..” He faltered.

“Steve-” Joyce’s voice broke through softly, cautiously, but he cut her off quickly.

“Eddie said he wouldn’t let me die in that place he-” Steve sucked in a shaky breath, before he slowly forced it back out. “There were so many of them. And they all had guns pointed straight at us. I don’t.. I don’t know how to hell they got past the soldiers. Or-...”

His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as a thought flickered through. “Maybe I do.”

He pushed himself upright with a suddenness that startled the group, teeth clenching as pain flared sharp and hot through his still healing wounds. The motion sent a low groan crawling up his throat, but he swallowed it down, glaring at the ground as if sheer will could keep him from collapsing.

He scanned the circle of faces- tear streaked, pale, red eyes- and found only fear- not of but for him- and worry staring back. His own expression hardened to match the steel in his voice.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said firm, final. “They set a trap and I walked, ran, straight into it. But someone tipped them off- let them into Hawkins- even told them that vans were closing in. They grabbed Eddie and left me… He.. He pushed me off the edge to keep me safe.” He all but growled out the last word, jaw locking until the muscle there jumped.

Wayne’s hand came up to sit carefully on Steve’s shoulder. “But now..” His voice broke again as he raked a hand down his face, eyes screwing shut. “I can’t- God, I can’t feel him.. At all.”

The air around them seemed to thin. Robin made a small, involuntary sound, somewhere between a sob and a gasp as she’d heard all about their amazing bond from the both of them over late night phone calls. But Steve kept talking, desperate, voice rough.

“It’s like before everything.. Before the bond opened. There’s just-” He tapped the back of his skull with trembling fingers, frustrations vibrating through every word. “A pressure. Like there’s a door there, but it’s sealed. I can feel the space where he should be, but it’s.. Empty? Like a space that’s blocked off but it’s just- I don’t know what’s supposed to be built there yet.”

He groaned, scrubbing his hand down his face again. “I don’t know how to explain it!”

“I think we understand.” Wayne said softly, voice steady despite the tremor in his hand as he gave Steve’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, thumb rubbing slow circles into his skin as his boy trembled beneath the touch.

Steve gave a small, jerky nod, swallowing hard. “Okay,” he rasped, voice full of emotion, though nothing about him looked okay. His chest rose and fell in short, uneven bursts. “I need to.. I need those bullets.” He looked toward Hopper, sharp but worried. “I don’t know what happened back there, but in the Lab- when they were shooting at us- I could hear the bullets before they even left the barrel. These…”

He shook his head, anger flashing through exhaustion. “These I didn’t even hear when the gun fired. Didn’t even feel the air move.. I need to see them. To figure out what’s different. Why I couldn’t hear a damn thing. Not until one of ‘em buried itself into a tree next to my head.”

Hopper crouched nearby, the small bag he’d prepared to throw away tucked into his kit. His eyes went from Steve to the sealed plastic, then back again, jaw tightening around a grim frown. “You’ll get a look,” he nodded, almost like a promise. “But not until we get you cleaned up and at least a full cup of blood in you.”

He exhaled sharply, the breath rattling out of him like a punctured tire. Some of the fight seemed to drain out of him then, leaving his shoulders slumped and his head tipping back against Wayne’s chest, letting the older man’s warmth bleed through the child he still felt deep in his core.

Around them the quiet stretched again- thick, uneasy, heavy with the unspoken truth that Eddie had been taken by the people who had already shown just how far they’re willing to go.

He stayed there for another long moment, eyes half-lidded, listening to the soft rasp of Wayne’s breathing and the occasional shuffle of boots in the dirt. His own breathing was finally slowing from the frantic gasps to the barely there breaths.

Eventually he forced himself upright, every muscle complaining as he peeled away from Wayne’s chest. “Okay,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “We need to.. We should probably get going before the entire Upside Down’s worth of demo-creatures show up.” He braced a hand against the ground as he tried to push himself up.

But Hopper was faster, already moving around him. “Not so fast.” He gently slid a hand under Steve’s arm before he could topple. Steve let out a small, involuntary whine but didn’t fight it, leaning into Hopper, letting him take his weight.

Wayne rose right after them, staying a half-step away, close enough to catch Steve if he faltered, but not crowding him. Behind them, Joyce and Jonathan moved quickly, gathering the med kid and Steve’s shredded shirt with practiced efficiency before hurting to catch up. The woods felt heavier as they walked, shadows long and damp, the early-morning mist clinging to branches like spiderwebs.

When they finally broke through to the edge of the trees, the trucks and cars waited like silent sentries. Wayne opened the door to his pickup and spread a pair of worn blankets across the back seat at Steve’s insistence- “In case I bleed all over it.” He’d joked weakly. No one laughed.

Dustin all but sprinted to the passenger side, blocking Robin with a stubborn glare before she could argue. “I’m traveling with Steve. Non-negotiable.” Robin only huffed and rolled her eyes, circling to the back where she slid in beside Steve. He eased down onto the blankets with a stiff, tired grace, resting his head in Robin’s lap. Her fingers slipped automatically into his hair, combing gently through sweat-damp strands.

Steve barely registered the movement of the truck as Wayne started it. His eyes closed, mind turning inward, chasing the thread of connection he’d always felt at the back of his head, on the bond- or what he assumed was the bond. But there was nothing.

It was empty. No spark. No echo. Just an empty space and the hollow scrape of his own thoughts. No Eddie. Nothing.

He refused to think about how that made him feel, how it made his chest ache.

He couldn’t. Not right now.

By the time he opened his eyes again, the truck was slowing, crunching over leaves as they pulled up to Hopper’s cabin. The early morning sky was bleeding into soft grey, the air damp and sharp, fitting for how he felt right now.

With a tired sigh he pushed himself upright. His wounds were almost healed, a faint heat beneath his skin, but the effort still sent dull spikes of pain though his ribs. He ignored the protests around him as he swung his legs out of the truck, boots scraping against the step.

“Steve-” Robin started, but he was already moving, long strides carrying him toward the door. It was locked, but he didn’t bother waiting for Hopper to find the key. He pushed it open, the old wood groaning in protest.

Hopper jogged after him, keys still dangling uselessly from his hand. “You don’t ever listen, do you?” He muttered, but there was no real bite to it. He guided Steve to the recliner and pressed him down into it with a firm hand, before disappearing into the small kitchen. The smell of copper drifted back a minute later as Hopper began to heat a pot of blood on the stove.

One by one, the others filed inside. Dustin stood closest, bouncing nervously on his heels like he expected Steve to keel over any second. Robin perched on the arm of the couch, eyes sharp as she tracked every tiny movement. Jonathan hovered at Steve’s side, arms crossed, scanning him as if he’d collapse at any second. Nancy lingered near the door, jaw tight as if she was already planning the quickest way to hunt something, or someone down. Mike and Will slid wordlessly onto the couch, shoulders pressed together.

As everyone else piled in around them as they arrived the room filling with a comforting murmur of movement- shoes scuffing the floor, the soft hiss of Hopper setting the mug into Steve’s shaking hands. The scent of warm blood cutting through the pine-and-dust smell of the cabin. Everyone found either empty chairs or spots on the floor. Everyone except Eleven who stepped forward.

Steve blinked slowly, forcing his eyes to focus as the room settled around him in a quiet, nervous hush. The heat from the cabin’s stove should’ve felt comforting, but it only seemed to make the cold knot in his chest stand out sharper. Eleven’s small frame was tense where she stood in front of him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, searching his face like she was waiting for something- some sign that danger was still lurking just behind him.

Her voice, when it came, was soft. Almost swallowed by the creak of the settling cabin. “Papa?” She whispered. “Did… Did he come for you?”

The question cut through the low murmur of conversation he’d been focusing on, like a blade. Everyone went still. Robin’s hand froze where she’d been reaching toward Steve. Dustin’s nervous fidgeting stopped. Even Hopper, returning from the kitchen with a steaming mug in hand, paused for half a second before moving forward.

“No, kid.” Hopper said gruffly. “Not Brenner. Everyone here’s on the look out for ‘em. It wouldn’t be him.” He’d said it like he was waiting for Steve to argue and say it was, holding the mug out toward him, his tone softening. “Here. Drink this before you keel over on my favorite chair.”

Steve managed a tired huff, wrapping both hands around the mug. The ceramic was hot against his palms, the scent of copper-rich blood sharp and comforting. He took a cautious sip and nearly sagged with relief as warmth spread down his throat, igniting the slow, aching burn within him. His body was still a battlefield of pain, but the sharp edges were dulling with each swallow.

Wayne stepped over before the others could crowd any closer. “Alright, give the boy some room.” He drawled, waving everyone back with a gentle but firm motion. “He ain’t gonna heal with you lot all breathin’ down his neck.”

There was some shuffling, and a few reluctant steps back.

Wayne dragged a chair over from the kitchen table and set it beside Steve, settling down with the kind of patience only he could pull off. He stayed close enough for Steve to feel the quiet strength radiating off him, but not so close that it felt suffocating. It was exactly what he needed- presence without pressure.

He drained the first mug, the taste not even having time to settle on his tongue before Hopper appeared again, wordless, with a second mug already steaming. He accepted it with a faint nod of thanks and took a long sip. By the time he was halfway through, the tingling itch of his healing had kicked back in. He could feel the wounds from the rocks having stitched back together. The bullet holes knitting together, muscles pulling tight, bones strengthening. The soreness remained, but it was a distant echo now, now the raw agony of before.

It should have been reassuring.

Instead, it only made the weight in his chest feel heavier.

He stared down into the dark surface of the mug, voice barely above a whisper. “I tried,” he started, the words almost lost in the sea of voices. “I tried to use them.. My powers.. I tried to stop them, to… To protect us.” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep going. “Nothing happened. No matter how hard I pushed, nothing worked. It was like.. Like they were stuck.”

The confession landed heavily. Ripples of silence spread across the room. Dustin sucked in an almost inaudible breath. Robin’s jaw tightened. Jonathan’s fingers flexed on his knees. Eleven’s eyes softened, like she understood his pain, but her shoulders stayed stiff with something that looked a lot like fear.

Steve’s grip tightened on the mug until it threatened to shatter. “I’ve been able to feel it for months now, since that day at the lab.” He went on, voice low. “It’s there, under everything. Like a hum I can’t shut out. But when it mattered- when Eddie needed me- nothing. I tried until I thought my head would split open and still…” He let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Still nothing.”

Wayne leaned forward, one hand resting lightly on Steve’s knee. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t try.” He offered quietly.

He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow, shaky breath as the warmth of the blood and Wayne’s words settled over him. But the failure gnawed at him all the same. Somewhere out there, Eddie was in the hands of people who didn’t care who they killed or tortured- and he had been powerless to stop it.

He must have dozed off, exhausted from his injuries and the events of the last who knows how long dragging him under before he could even fight it.

He could’ve said he felt nice. If it wasn’t for the persistent chill in his bones.

It was the voices that reached him first, soft threads of conversation weaving through the fog in his head. Max’s worried tone floating somewhere to his left- something about infection and how fast it could spread if they weren’t careful. Erica’s sharper voice followed, a whispered, “dumbass” carrying just enough bite to make the corner of his mouth twitch. He wanted to snort. Yeah, okay- fair.

Most of it was harmless background noise, but one conversation cut through the haze, pulling him closer to the surface. Wayne and Hopper. Their voices were low, serious.

“-if the soldiers go after him they could-” Hopper’s gruff murmur.

“-because we don’t know exactly where they’re keeping-” Wayne’s tight response, careful, like he was choosing each word as if the wrong one might break something fragile.

Steve followed the sound like a lifeline, mind clawing toward consciousness. Each word sharpened his focus, the edges of their worry slicing through the lingering fog. He forced his eyes open, blinking hard as the cabin’s dim light stabbed at his eyes. Shapes slowly came into focus- the rough beams of the ceiling, the faint glow of the stove, the worried silhouettes of people he loved.

Every inch of his body screamed, not in pain exactly, but in restless urgency. Muscles tense, nerves alight. A low, primal drive surging through him, every instinct shrieking move, find him, get Eddie back. It wasn’t exactly pain- but it was close enough. A pull that settled deep in his chest and wouldn’t let go. But he shoved it down, locking it behind clenched teeth. No one else needed to see that- not yet.

The quiet around him shifted when they noticed his eyes were open. Conversations stuttered and stopped like a radio fading into static.

Wayne was the first to move, coming from the kitchen in three long strides. His calloused hand threaded gently through Steve’s hair, a warm welcomed touch. “You alright?” He asked quietly, eyes scanning him like he expected something to be wrong.

He nodded, the motion slow, heavy. “Yeah, just… Yeah.” His voice came hoarse as he shifted in the recliner, muscles stiff as he pushed himself slightly upright. “How long was I out?”

“Just about an hour.” Wayne answered, still closely watching him.

Hopper approached next, another steaming mug in his hand. “Drink.” He said simply, pressing it into Steve’s hands.

He wrapped his fingers around the ceramic, the warmth seeping into his chilled palms. “Thanks,” he murmured, bringing it to his lips and taking a careful sip. The rich metallic taste spread through him and he let out a quiet, pleased hum.

The room slowly settled back into a tense sort of quiet. Everyone retook their seats, but none of them really relaxed.

Wayne sat back in the chair beside him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving him, Steve could see the pain written clear as day across them. Hopper lingered close, arms crossed but jaw tight. He was doing his best to look unaffected but the subtle twitches on his face gave away how worried he was. Joyce hovered behind the couch, wringing her hands, gaze soft but worried, like she thought he might splinter apart if she blinked.

The kids… His chest squeezed at the sight of their faces. Max’s worried frown. Will and Mike sitting shoulder to shoulder, silent but pale. Dustin perched on the edge of the armchair, wide-eyed and restless, like he’d leap up at the first sign of trouble. The rest of them, they all looked…

They’d just gotten them both back, and now Eddie was gone again… He didn’t have a way to describe how they looked. Not sure one existed really.

He drained the mug, the last of the heat burning a trail down his throat, and set it carefully on the side table. Slowly he let his eyes sweep over each of them in turn.

“So…” His voice cut through the quiet, steady despite the weight pressing down on him. “Has anyone got a plan?”

Before the kids could jump in, Hopper lifted a hand, shaking his head. “Not really. We wanted you in the loop first. No decisions without you.”

He gave a low hum, nodding once. The restless energy coiled in his gut tightened, sharp and insistent. He straightened in the recliner, folding his arms across his chest, eyes sharpening with resolve. “Well then,” he said quietly, final and firm. “Let’s get to planning.”

---

Steve sat heavily in the recliner like a spring pulled too tight, jaw clenched until it throbbed. Every muscle buzzed with a restless charge that only sharpened as the minutes dragged by. The early morning should have been calming. Instead, it crawled over him like static.

The air itself felt wrong- too heavy, too thick.

The cabin was alive with noise- voices tangling and sparked across the room, an endless hum of planning and arguing that refused to fade into background noise. They overlapped, snapped, hissed against his nerves like live wires. Every word slid beneath his skin, too sharp to ignore.

Too many people.
Too loud.

He didn’t want to stay still. Every cell in his body was screaming to move, to do, to get Eddie back from wherever they’d taken him. Sitting felt wrong, it felt like suffocating in slow motion, lungs locked while the clock bled out.

Wayne, Hopper, Joyce, and Murray- who’d somehow just appeared, or maybe he’d been here the whole time, he doesn’t really care- clustered at the table, forming a rough half-circle he wanted to break apart with his bare hands.

Hopper stood with his arms crossed and a scowl carved deep into his face. A mountain of grim authority, voice low but heavy enough to grate in his ears, going over every fact they had- and more importantly, everything they didn’t.

Wayne leaned forward in his chair, elbows braced on his knees, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion carved deep into his face. When he spoke- rare but deliberate- every word carried weight. Even Murray shut up for a heartbeat when Wayne opened his mouth.

Joyce hovered just beyond Hopper’s shoulder, her soft, careful questions threading through with hard facts, soothing where she could. Her eyes kept flickering to Steve like she was waiting for a crack to appear, as if she expected him to break every time someone said lab or soldier.

Murray, of course, couldn’t stop himself. He leaned against the couch, arms folded, eyebrows lifted like he was waiting for someone to give him a reason to gloat. His eyes gleamed with that smug know-it-all confidence that just begged for a punch. Every snide comment, each dry quip- "government dogs”, “tinfoil ops”, “maybe we let the lab trip over its own incompetence first”- earned a sharp thwack to the back of the head from Wayne, who didn’t even look up as he did it. Murray grumbled, but the hits kept him in line. If only just.

“-we can’t assume they’ll keep him in the same place,” Hopper was in the middle of something, but Steve barely paid it much attention. “If the lab is operating in the same style as the rainbow room, they’ll move their subject after extraction.”

Subject.

The word detonated in Steve’s chest. His jaw locked so hard his teeth creaked.

“That’s Eddie,” Wayne snapped, voice a knifes edge. “Not a ‘subject’. It’s Eddie.”

The correction barely dulled the burn. His claws flexing against the leather.

But Hopper just nodded as in a silent apology, and pressed on. “The thing is, we don’t even know where that is, let alone the original location.”

Wayne grunted, a low, controlled sound. “Then we start with what we do know.. I know a guy, he had people on the inside. I’ll see if he can pull some strings.”

“That’s the guy who got them out, the one they live with, right?” Hopper asked, he knew better than to ask for more. “The second they catch whiff of a leak, they’ll lock it down again. Maybe move him again or even scrub house, if they haven’t already.”

Steve listened, forcing himself to focus on Hopper’s gravelly rundown of possibilities. But to be honest, he barely heard them. The words reached him, but they landed like pebbles on a frozen lake- dull thuds against the roaring inside his skull. Every mention of secondary site, every quiet subject, pulsed through his veins like acid.

-They’re too fucking sure of themselves that they can do whatever they want. Doubt they’d move locations.-

His hands tightened on the armrests, claws sliding through the leather with a faint snick. The chair creaked under the pressure. But maybe they were already experimenting -fucking probably-. Maybe they were already doing to Eddie, trying to break him, the same way they did Steve. His chest ached with the thought.

Across the room though, the kids were their own storm.

Dustin and Mike faced off nearly nose-to-nose, shouting plans over each other like it was just another Friday night campaign.

“We just need a diversion-”
“Yeah, but it had to be big- like fireworks big-”
“What if we fake a power surge? Get them to evacuate-”

His thoughts cut through their yelling like broken glass. -Won’t work. Generators. Too big a place. Too many failsafes. They’ll see it coming.-

Lucas tried to edge in with reason, drowned out by Erica’s dry barbs. “Oh sure, let’s all break into a top-secret lab. Maybe we can bring snacks too. I’ll pack juice boxes.”

Will murmured something about security systems. Max leaned forward, chin in hand, her good eye sharp but her voice flat. “They’ll expect that.” -Damn right they will.- She was the only one who sounded close to serious. But it barely slowed the chaos.

Nancy cut in every so often, sharp, more serious. “That won’t work.”
“Too risky.”
“They’ll probably have thermal sensors-”
Her words slid over the kids barely making a difference.

Jonathan even offered soft, hesitant counterpoints. “What if we.. Try the supply routes first? They have to have a loading bay or something?” But his tone lacked conviction, like he already knew no one was listening.

None of it was enough.

Robin, perched on the arm of the couch, ran a tense hand through her hair, throwing out ideas she shot down before anyone else could. “What if- just hear me out- we fake a medical transport? Hazmat suits, masks, the whole thing?” She grimaced as soon as the words left her mouth. “Okay, yeah, that’s dumb. Forget it.”

The noise rose, voices tripping over each other until it was a wall of sound- high pitched, frantic, wrong. None of them were hearing him. None of them understood what kind of place they were talking about. He had told them what the lab did. What they did to him to them.

-They don’t fucking understand! They’re already hurting him. Breaking him. Like they tried with me.-

The thought came jagged, nearly a snarl through him. His claws slid in then back out gouging the leather, a low growl coiling in his chest before he could stop it. The bond was gone, and with it Eddie’s warmth- leaving nothing but a raw, almost feral edge that pulsed with every lonely heartbeat.

His fangs itched to drop. Every shouted “plan” made the feeling worse. They were talking about Eddie like a puzzle to solve while he- Steve- could feel the clock bleeding out.

Wayne caught the movement, eyes flicking down to Steve’s hands, then back up to meet his eyes. He said nothing, but the faint crease between his brows spoke volumes. I see you. Breathe.

Steve didn’t breathe.
Couldn’t.

Hopper’s voice cracked through the air like a gunshot. “Enough.”

The room shuddered into silence. Even Murray straightened.

“This isn’t just some rescue mission,” Hopper started, tone heavy with the kind of authority that demanded attention. He looked over every one of them. “It’s an armed facility with kill orders on anyone who steps foot near it. You go in unprepared, you die. You treat this like a game, you die. Simple as that. And as much as I wanna stop you kids from coming, you’re adults. You can make your own choices. But you need to know that this isn’t a game, and you can’t act like they’ll hesitate for a second. Because they won’t.”

The kids stared, wide-eyed, but still not fully comprehending. Mike’s jaw tightened, but even he didn’t argue. Dustin shifted back, hands twitching at his sides. Will bit his lip. Max’s gaze sharpened, but she stayed silent too. Eleven even looked around, eyes full of something too old for a child, something close to understanding but not quite.

Steve barely saw them. Every word was true but useless. Talking wasn’t enough. Every second wasted was another second Eddie was--Don’t think it-.
-but the images came anyway.

His chest rumbled, a low, involuntary sound that made even Hopper flinch. His grip tightened again, claws sinking deeper, leather creaking in protest echoing in his ears. He knew every word Hopper said was the truth. But they didn’t get it. Didn’t understand that-

“Steve.”

Wayne’s voice but through the static. No orders. No questions. Just his name, a tether dragging him back.

He forced in a shaky breath that felt more like a snarl.

Joyce stepped closer, soft but firm. “We’ll get him back.” She said it like a promise. -You don’t know that.- “But we have to do it right. We can’t lose anyone else.”

He stared at her for a second before looking at Hopper, then Wayne. He didn’t trust his voice enough to speak so he gave a short, clipped nod. He was listening.. Barely.

Hopper exhaled hard through his nose and turned back to face the group. “We start with intel. No one moves until we know where they’ve got him. Everyone-” he stared down at the kids, “-sits tight until I say otherwise.”

The kids began to murmur again, softer now, but Steve only half listened to the conversations around him. His body thrummed with the need to move, to hunt. The growl in his chest settled to a dangerous hum.

Eddie was out there.
The bond was gone.
And Steve was running out of patience.

---

It wasn’t enough.

They weren’t doing enough.

The kids weren’t taking it seriously enough.

Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, and even Eleven were trying. But it wasn’t enough.

Murray was being a condescending asshole. Joyce was trying but she was also being far too sweet, too kind, too motherly to understand the gravity of the situation.

Only Wayne and Hopper were treating this as dangerously as it needed to be. But still. It. Wasn’t. Enough. They just didn’t fully understand.

They didn’t understand that these people thought he and Eddie were monsters. But that they themselves were the monsters. They weren’t understanding that these people shot first and asked questions never. They. Weren’t. Getting. It.

Steve had risen from the recliner half an hour ago. He couldn’t stay seated a moment longer. But now- now he was pacing, every step sharp and restless. His fingers continuously curled in and out as his claws flexed against his palms, the tips clicking faintly against his own skin. His fangs ached with a low, burning itch that made his jaw tighten until his teeth hurt. Something deep and feral kept whispering. Tear. Rip. Shred- like his instincts were clawing against their cage, desperate for an outlet.

Everyone kept talking like it was a sure thing. Like getting Eddie back was just a matter of time. “When we get him back,” “once we figure out where they are,” like Eddie wasn’t already in the jaws of the same nightmare they had just barely crawled out of. It was bullshit.

They didn’t know that. They didn’t even know if Eddie was-

But he knew what the lab was capable of. He knew exactly what The Grey Room was willing to do to keep Eddie there, to break him, to turn him into something that couldn’t come back. He could still smell the sharp sting of poison, still hear his own screaming when the lights went white-hot and the world went cold.

He knows.

At one point someone- he couldn’t be bothered to filter out who- had suggested having Owens try and call Brenner. Steve almost tore into them on the spot, but Wayne’s voice- quiet, flat, carrying a heavy weight- cut through first. “No. Owens and the rest of that lot stay out of it until we know who’s responsible, who told ‘em where Ed’s was gonna be.”

It shut the room up for a breath. But only just a second before the noise swelled back up, grating against his every nerve.

They. Kept. Talking.

Talking like they’d walk into the lab, grab Eddie, and walk out. Like it was a rescue mission in some Saturday morning cartoon. Like this was just another weird little crisis in Hawkins that would burn itself out if they made the right moves.

But Steve knew.

Knew it was more likely to win the lottery right now than to get Eddie back unscathed.

He knew the lab wasn’t a story. It wasn’t a game. It was teeth and wires and cold rooms where screams went nowhere.

And the kids- God, the kids.

They went right back to treating it like another campaign. Dustin’s voice rose over the others, pitching plans like dice rolls. Mike interrupted with half-baked tactics. Lucas and Erica argued over details like it was just another dungeon. Max sat back with her arms crossed, more serious but still too calm. Will’s eyes darted nervously, but he stayed quiet too, like he was waiting for someone to tell him what to do.

Eleven stood among them, her face pale and pinched, knowing but still just a child who couldn’t fully understand the kind of monsters they were dealing with.

They didn’t remember- didn’t feel- how close it had come to killing all of them last time. How easily Eddie had died in the Upside Down.

They’d had years to heal from it. To forget it. Steve and Eddie didn’t. They changed, sure. They adapted to their new normals. But they didn’t get to heal. Didn’t get to forget.

All they got was pain.

Steve’s claws slipped in, then immediately back out with a soft snikt before he even realized it. His pacing quickened, sharp turns back and forth like a caged animal. Every time someone said Eddie’s name like a promise- or “when we find him”- his chest tightened until it hurt and his fangs desperately itched to drop, the pressure in his jaw building with every heartbeat.

Still from the table, Hopper’s voice finally cut through the chaos that was his mind. Low, measured, a cop’s command. “Steve.” He stepped forward, palms out in front of him. “You need to calm down. We’re going to get Eddie back. We’ll figure this out-”

It was the wrong thing to say.

The words slammed into Steve like a spark in dry tinder.

His head snapped toward Hopper, eyes flashing, fingers clenching until claws bit into his own palms. “Calm down?” The growl that ripped out of his throat was low and sharp, more animal than human. “You think calm is gonna bring him back? They have him, Hop! They have him! You have no idea what they’ll-” His voice broke off in a rough snarl.

The room went still for a long second.

Then Mike -stupid, oblivious Mike- piped up from their little corner, his voice sharp with teenage impatience. “Dude, chill out. We can just have El find him, then we’ll get him back. It’s not-”

Steve spun so fast the air seemed to snap. One second he was glaring at Hopper, the next he was facing Mike Wheeler, eyes gone hard and bright like molten amber.

“No.” His voice came out in a rough, guttural growl. “She couldn’t find us before, and she won’t find him now!”

The room recoiled. Mike flinched, eyes wide. Dustin froze mid-breath. Eleven went still.

His own words rang in his ears like a gunshot. Too harsh. Too cruel. The anger tasted bitter in his mouth. He’d never meant to- to make them scared of him.

He forced a breath out through his nose, shoulders trembling. “Shit,” he muttered, softer now, the fight draining just enough to make space for guilt. He turned toward Eleven, forcing his claws to retract. “El. I-I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I know you tried. I didn’t-”

Eleven blinked quietly, eyes wide and solemn. “No. It is true.” Her voice came quiet, small, but steady. “I could not find you then. I do not believe I would find Eddie now… I am sorry.”

The admission landed like a knife.

Steve swallowed hard, but the guilt didn’t ease. He’d hurt her. He knew it. Even if she chose to forgive him, he’d still thrown the words like a weapon. It’s not her fault her powers didn’t work, his own didn’t and Eddie had been right there.

But, under the shame, the panic started to bleed in.

He couldn’t lose Eddie. Not again. Not after they’d finally started to build a life- quiet mornings, shared jokes, the sense that maybe, finally, they were allowed to be happy.

His breathing quickened before he’d even noticed. Shallow, sharp pulls of air that didn’t seem to reach his lungs. His chest felt too tight, his heart pounding a frantic, off-kilter rhythm. His claws twitched, wanting out again. The room seemed to tilt, voices muffled under the roar of his own pulse.

Wayne was on his feet now, moving closer with slow, careful steps, like approaching a wounded animal. Hopper followed, keeping his voice low as he tried to soothe down his rising panic. Joyce murmured something softer as well, but none of it registered.

All Steve could think- could feel- was Eddie’s absence. The bond that used to hum warm and alive between them was gone, and the silence felt like it was eating him alive from the inside out.

The world narrowed to a single, unbearable truth:

If they didn’t find Eddie, if the lab.. Got.. him first-

Steve wouldn’t survive it. Not this time. Not again.

Hopper marched over when Steve didn’t respond to any of them. And suddenly-

His head whipped to the side, cheek burning.

“Sorry, kid.” Hopper’s voice was soft as his hand came up, rough palm gently rubbing at Steve’s cheek with a careful pressure. “I needed you to come back to us.”

Steve blinked slowly, the world snapping back, sharp at the edges again. The sting against his cheek was grounding him more than words could right now, even as it faded. He leaned into the calloused hand almost without thinking.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, pressing his cheek a little more into the rough palm. The word was half apology, half long ingrained reflex.

Hopper gave his face a gentle pat before stepping back, letting the room breathe again.

For a long moment, nobody spoke.

The storm of overlapping voices that had filled the cabin only minutes ago had bled into a tense, heavy quiet. Dustin shifted awkwardly beside Mike, his sneakers squeaking faintly against the floorboards. Robin hovered near the couch, eyes flicking between Steve and Hopper, her hands twisting together like she wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out what without shattering the fragile calm.

Even Murray stayed quiet, though his jaw worked like he was holding back a dozen half baked theories and snide remarks.

Steve dragged in a slow breath, the air still tasting faint of sweat and blood, and turned away from all of them. His legs carried him to the far wall, where he braced his shoulder against the wood and tilted his head back. The wall was warm against the persistent chill in his bones. He let his claws out then retracted them several times, as he forced his breathing into something almost normal.

The group began to shift, like magnets slowly drawn together. Hopper moved to lean against the couch, Wayne pulling a chair back next to the recliner, a silent, watchful presence. Joyce murmured something about sitting, and chairs craped against the floor as the kids drifted closer, their previous excitement dulled to wary glances and nervous fidgets.

They merged into a single huddle, the earlier chaos burned down to a low simmer.

Plans began to slowly surface again, sharper now but still fragile. Hopper laid out what little intel they had, what Steve had been able to remember, his gravelly voice steady and clipped. Wayne added quiet, pointed observations, each one carrying the weight of experience. Joyce offered soft, practical suggestions, always circling back to keeping the kids safe and away from the danger, but knowing they’d still be there.

Murray couldn’t resist adding his theories about shadow agencies and hidden facilities, though each comment earned him a sharp smack to the back of the head from Wayne without so much as a glance.

Steve listened. At least, he tried.

Every word felt like it grated along the inside of his skull. The plans were too vague, the leads too thin, the certainty in their voices like sandpaper against raw skin.

-They don’t get it.-

The thoughts slid in like a knife.

-They don’t know what those bastards are capable of. They don’t know what it smells like when the lights burn hot and the metal table stays cold. They don’t know how fast a body breaks. How cold makes you forget your own name.-

Someone- Jonathan, maybe- suggested splitting into smaller groups to “cover more ground.” Steve’s claws twitched before he forced them down. -Cover more ground. Like they’re just going bird watching, not being hunted by people with machine guns and scalpels.-

Nancy floated an idea about using the press to flush out leads. Murray jumped in with a smug explanation about controlled leaks. Steve’s jaw tightened until he heard his own teeth creak. -Leaks. Like this is politics. Like Eddie’s not on a table somewhere or in a box or..-

Every sentence carried an edge of optimism that made his stomach churn. They still spoke in when’s instead of if’s. When we find Eddie. When we bring him back.

By the time Joyce quietly suggested they take a break for lunch, his hands were trembling with the effort of keeping his claws sheathed.

Wayne disappeared into the small kitchen for a while, then came out with sandwiches- thick slices of bread, cold cuts, cheese. The smells of mustard turned Steve’s stomach. The idea of eating felt obscene, like swallowing food while Eddie might already be starving. Or worse.

He shook his head when Wayne held out a plate in front of him. But Wayne didn’t say a word. He just fixed Steve with a look- steady, quiet, heavier than words. A look that carried years of stubborn Munson grit and the kind of silent understanding only Wayne seemed capable of.

He let out a sharp exhale, grabbed the plate, and reluctantly took a bite of the sandwich. The bread tasted like cardboard, the mean like ash. He forced himself to chew, to swallow, to take another bite when Wayne’s gaze didn’t waver. Each mouthful felt like chewing gravel.

Lunch was quick, the silence punctuated only by the clink of plates and the occasional creak of the floor. Nobody said a word.

But as soon as the food was cleared. It was back to the drawing board. Back to the theories and guesses and maybes.

The feral edge he’d felt earlier crept back in, like light through a canopy, sliding beneath his skin like hot wire. His claws popped back out, flexing against his palms, the sharp tips leaving faint crescents in his skin.

Jonathan floated another idea about searching the outskirts of Hawkins, just in case. -Stupid. Too slow. Eddie doesn’t have time for this.-

Robin suggested trying to contact old government contacts through Argyle of all people. -Contacts. Like a phone call will outrun a black site… Wishful thinking, Argyle keeping a secret.-

Mike started listing potential locations on a map, each one said with the confidence of someone who still thought this was a game they could win. -You don’t know anything. You don’t know what they did to us. We’re not even people to them.-

Steve’s breathing grew shallow, his chest tight enough to ache. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He could hear every grating scrape of a chair, every annoying nervous shuffle, every echoing inhale around him. The smells- coffee, sweat, the faint metallic tang of blood still clinging to the air- pressed in too close.

-Too slow. Too soft. They’ll hurt him. They’ll break him. They’ll take him apart piece by piece and you’re all sitting here talking about sandwiches and fucking maps.-

A low sound rumbled in his chest before he’d even realized it- a quiet, deep growl that rolled out between clenched teeth.

Dustin stumbled over his sentence. Mike tensed, eyes flickering nervously toward Steve. Wayne gave him a sideways glance. Even Murray finally shut his mouth.

The silence that followed was thin and sharp, like the air before a lightning strike.

Steve barely noticed. His claws had slipped back and refused to retract. His eyes burned, his breathing uneven. The world had narrowed back to a single line of thought:

Too slow. They’re too slow. Eddie’s out there. Alone. And if they don’t move now…

His pulse sounded like drums in his ears, drowning out the voices around him. The wall at his back felt like it was closing in. His body thrummed with restless, dangerous energy, every muscle screaming to do something- tear, run, fight, anything.

But the room kept up their grating voices.

And every word felt like another second wasted.

Steve moved before he’d even realized he was.

One heartbeat he was leaning against the wall, arms locked across his chest, trying to drown out the world. And the next he was pacing again- sharp, tight strides that carved a restless path across the cabin’s worn floor.

Back and forth.

Back. And. Forth.

His boots struck the wood with a low, rhythmic thunk, the sound cutting through the overlapping chatter like the ticking on a clock.

At first it was just motion- something to burn the coil of panic twisting under his skin- but each turn became harder, quicker. His shoulders hunched forward, muscles coiled as if he might spring at the door and bolt straight for the road. The cabin smelled too warm, too crowded. Sweat, coffee, damp pine outside. Wrong. Every detail of it scraped against him. Every suggestion was a mosquito buzzing against his skull.

But the voices around him started to blend into a single low, irritating hum. Words drifted in every now and then, sharp enough to pierce but not enough to make sense.

“-but maybe splitting up could work if-”

A growl rolled out of him before he could catch it. Quiet, deep, almost too low for human ears. Robin went still where she sat, glancing toward him like she wasn’t sure she’d really heard it.

-No. Stupid. You’ll die before you even find the right floor.-

Nancy’s voice cut in, clear and firm. “We’re going to need weapons.” Her tone had the same hard-edged precision she used when loading a gun. “Guns, knives- anything we can get our hands on. If this place is as dangerous as-”

His claws twitched, the tips scraping against his palms. Something cold and metallic whispered through the air, a sound only he seemed to notice.

-Finally. Something useful. But still, just talk. Still planning. Get the guns. Go now.-

Before the thought could finish, Dustin jumped in, voice pitching higher with excitement. “We can go to War Zone again! They’ll totally hook us up- remember last time? We can get everything we need there, they still-”

The next growl shivered out of his chest, almost a purr if it hadn’t carried such raw menace, it was sharp enough that the hair on the back of Lucas’s neck visibly lifted. Dustin hesitated but kept going, enthusiasm drowning out caution.

He pivoted sharply at the end of his path, boots biting into the floor. -This isn’t a game. You don’t roll dice and get another turn. You don’t get extra lives. You don’t get to be excited about this.-

Someone- Jonathan? Robin?- said his name, soft, gentle, a question wrapped in caution. He ignored it. Another voice followed. A request. Maybe even a plan. He didn’t care. Didn’t listen. They blurred together until every syllable was an insect buzzing against the roar in his head. He didn’t care what they were asking. Didn’t care if it was important.

-They’re wasting time. Eddie doesn’t have time! Move. Hunt. Tear the place apart until you find him. Bring. Him. Back.-

“Steve.” Hopper’s voice finally cut through, heavy, a warning threaded through. -What could you possibly do to me?- It was the kind of voice meant to settle a room. “You need to relax. We have to think this through, kid. We don’t need to kill anyone- just need to sneak in and get Eddie out.”

He stopped mid-stride, like Hopper’s words had snapped an invisible cord. His head turned fast- too fast, too unnatural- until his eyes locked on the taller man. His chest rose and fell in quick, savage bursts, the sound of each inhale scraping like a blade against stone. The low rumble in his throat deepened into something darker.

-Relax? Sneak?- The words tasted like ash in the back of his throat. -You have no idea what they’re doing to him right now while you’re telling me to relax!- His eyes narrowed as he stared for a moment, before turning away to pace, although slower this time.

Wayne cleared his throat, the gravelly rumble carrying more weight than anyone expected. “Jim.” He said quietly, gaze steady on the man. “That probably won’t pan out. Steve and Ed’s told me more than the rest o’ you. About what that place wants. ‘Bout what happened. They ain’t just gonna let Eddie walk out. And they want Steve back just as bad. They see him.. They’re gonna do everything they can to keep ‘im.”

The kids were shouting again before Wayne even finished- Mike’s voice sharp, Dustin’s loud protest to keep Steve back, Lucas tossing in some counterpoints like this was just debate club. Erica’s words cut across theirs, fast and biting. Even Eleven’s calm, measured input threaded through the chaos, a single, steady note that only barely recognized the danger, buried under a storm of childish bravado.

-Too loud. Too stupid. Too blind. They don’t understand what’s waiting in there. None of them do.-

Something inside Steve snapped.

He whirled back toward Hopper, the motion violent enough the air seemed to crack around him. His claws flashed fully into view, catching the light in cruel, lethal arcs. The muscles in his arms flexed, the lines of his body shifting toward something other. His fangs dropped down with an audible snap, sharp and gleaming, instinct cutting past any fragile human restraint left.

“I. DON’T. CARE!”

The words ripped out of him in a near-feral snarl, shaking dust from the lights. The growl wasn’t just sound, it vibrated through the words, a low thunder that made the floor tremble. His voice rose with each word “I don’t care if we have to kill everyone in the goddamn lab- I will do whatever it takes if it gets me to Eddie!”

The room went silent.

The kids all froze, mouths half open, eyes wide, their faces draining white. Dustin’s mouth was still open on a half formed word. Mike’s shoulders were tense, like prey about to run from a predator. Even Murray, mid-rant, clamped his mouth shut with an audible click. Joyce’s hand hovered in front of her mouth, trembling. And Robin stood so still it was like she’d forgotten how to breathe.

Steve stood there, chest heaving, claws flexing against empty air like he could already feel the resistance of flesh and bone. His eyes seemed to glow faintly in the low light- too sharp, too bright, truly a predator's eyes. Each breath carried the scent of blood, pine, and nerves, his mind seeming to stretch beyond the cabin walls, past the trees, all the way to the cold, sterile corridors where he knew Eddie was trapped.

-Whatever it takes. Whatever it costs. Get him out.-

He took a single step forward, the floorboards groaning beneath the weight of something inhuman. Another growl tore free, low and dangerous, carrying a promise no one in the room doubted he could keep.

-They’ll pay. Every last one of them. I’ll burn that place to the ground if I have to.-

His heart hammered against his chest as if it wanted to escape, wild and relentless. The room, the people, the plans- they were all background noise now. All that mattered was the screaming in his head, the pounding need- to get Eddie.

Eddie.

Steve’s claws curled tight enough to score deep grooves into his palms. Pain bit up his arms, grounding and useless all at once. The need burned hotter.

-Whatever it costs. Whatever I have to become. I’ll get him back.-

He shook his head suddenly, whipping around to face everyone, not just Hopper, movement so sharp it had everyone taking a step back. The air itself seemed to tighten around him. He knew he looked.. Dangerous.

His fangs refusing to cooperate and retract, the sharp white tips catching the lights each time he took a breath. His claws- long, curved, a predator’s weapon- were a comfort he didn’t even bother to hide anymore. They flexed against his palms with a quick click against his skin, a promise of violence in every twitch of his fingers.

-Fuck it.- He thought angrily, the words pounding in his skull. -If they don’t want to take it seriously. I’ll just make them.-

“Get in the cars.” He growled out. But when no one moved, his patience snapped. “NOW!”

The barked command sliced through the tension. Chairs scraped, shoes scuffed, startled breaths filled the room. Everyone shot to their feet at once, the sudden flurry of movement almost frantic.

Steve caught a glimpse of Hopper’s wary frown, Joyce’s worried glances, Dustin’s wide eyes. But he didn’t care. He turned sharply toward Wayne, who stood steady, watching him, the only one who didn’t flinch back from the sharp edges radiating off him.

Neither said a word. Steve just spun on his heels and marched for the door, ignoring the hurried questions and half-whispered protests that followed.

The hot afternoon air slapped against his face as he strode outside. The weight of it did nothing to quell the fire raging in his chest.

He almost tore the passenger door off Wayne’s truck as he wrenched it open, the hinges groaning under the force. He climbed in and slammed it shut with a solid thunk, the echo rattling through the quiet yard.

“No.” The single word was firm, sharp, when Dustin opened the backseat. The kid froze, hurt flashing across his face until Steve added, “I need to talk to Wayne.”

“Oh.. Okay.” Dustin’s voice shrank to something small and uncertain as he closed the door, turning back and falling in line behind Hopper without another word.

Steve looked over just long enough to cast a hard look at the group still standing in the doorway. “Follow us.” He ordered, the words clipped and cold. That was all they got before he pulled the door shut again, the cab sealing off with a hollow clack. He folded his arms across his chest, claws biting faint crescents into the sleeves of his shirt as Wayne climbed in.

Wayne settled behind the wheel, face unreadable but his eyes sharp. “Son..” His tone was pointedly neutral, slow enough to cut through the rising tension. “Mind telling me where we’re takin’ ‘em to?”

“Doc’s.” He didn’t growl this time, but the words carried the same bite. His voice was flat, stripped of anything but purpose, still seeming angry but more.. Annoyed really. He stared through the windshield, watching the others pile into the cars and start the engines one by one, headlights flaring against the trees. “Drive to Docs.”

Wayne raised a brow but didn’t question him. He’d been holding himself together by sheer force of will since the second Steve came up from that quarry alone and said the lab had Eddie again, and he wasn’t about to break now. Whatever Steve needed, he’d do. He wouldn’t- couldn’t- lose either of his boys again.

“Alright.” Wayne answered finally, giving a single, solid nod as he shifted the truck into reverse. The engine rumbling to life, the headlights carving two pale tunnels into the trees ahead.

The cab was quiet except for the muted crunch of the gravel under tires as they pulsed away, loud and grating in his ears. Steve sat rigid, shoulders hunched forward, eyes fixed on the empty stretch of road ahead. His claws flexed against his sleeves in restless rhythm, the faint rasp of nails on fabric barely audible over the hum of the engine. He could feel the thrum of his own pulse in his jaw, an annoying drumbeat of restrained violence.

For several long minutes, neither of them spoke. Wayne kept his eyes on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. Steve let the silence stretch, trying- failing- the corral the storm ragging behind his ribs. Words sat like broken glass in his throat, sharp and bitter.

Finally, Wayne broke the quiet. “I know you boys didn’t tell me everything that happened in there,” he started, voice measured but warm. “But you said all you were able.” He glanced sideways, just long enough for the light to catch the hard set of his mouth. “I got a pretty damn good picture, and I get why you’re upset. Those kids ain’t takin’ it serious enough. What we’re up against are people who have no problem killin’ kids.”

Steve’s claws sank into the worn leather of the seat, leaving faint crescents in their wake. Wayne’s words weren’t judging, but they scraped raw across his nerves.

“I know you’ve told them what happened to you, I even told ‘em that first time.” Wayne continued, eyes flicking between the road and Steve’s narrowed eyes. “But I think you need to remind them. They don’t understand the way you do.. Not yet.”

Steve exhaled through his nose, the sound loud and sharp. The growl he’d been holding back trembled just beneath the surface, too quiet for words but loud enough to fill the space between them.

“They’re..” He started quietly, shoulders slumping as he leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes. “They’re good kids, but.. But they’re still just that. Kids. They don’t… They don’t see it the way I do. They don’t get it.” He kept his voice low, leaning his head back. “They think this is.. Another game. Another… Campaign. Like the last time Eddie didn’t-”

His throat closed around the memory. Taking a deep breath, he slowly licked over his fangs.

Wayne let the silence settle again, giving him room.

After a few minutes he let his eyes open to stare out the window, watching the endless blur of trees. Wayne’s old Chevy smelled faintly of motor oil and cigarette smoke, the leather seats worn smooth between them. He rubbed his hands over his jeans, the faint scrape of his claws the only sound he seemed to allow himself to make. His fangs still hadn’t retracted, no matter how hard he tried. His body seemed to be locked in a state between man and monster, ready to tear through metal and bone at the first scent of danger.

Outside, Hawkins slowly bled away- streetlights giving way to empty roads as the trees closed in, slowing them as they sped down the two lane road. Behind them, headlights from Hopper’s truck and the other cars cut thin, wavering tunnels through the dim light of the trees.

Wayne kept his eyes on the road, one hand steady on the wheel. His jaw worked around the stub of an unlit cigarette he hadn’t even realized he’d put between his teeth. The silence stretched, heavy, but not uncomfortable- at least not for Wayne.

For Steve, it was a pressure cooker.

Every pothole, every rattle of the suspension made his muscles jump. He could hear the others behind them even without looking: the low growl of engines, the distant chatter of voices through thin glass. It all pulled at his raw nerves grating on him until he felt like snapping again.

-They need to understand. To realize what could happen to them.. To Eddie.-

His hands curled into firsts on his thighs, claws prickling through the denim just enough to draw blood. He barely noticed the sting.

“They.. Shot at us.. Before.” He said at last, barely above a whisper. “Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t.. Care. I can.. I can still remember the look on Eddie’s face when I threw him over a car.” He shook his head. “They don’t think we’re people, Wayne. Not me. Not Eddie.”

Wayne nodded slowly, his expression grim. “Then we make ‘em-” He nodded to the rearview mirror. “-understand. But you can’t carry this alone. Not anymore. You hear me? Even if it’s not with them, you share it with me.”

His claws flexed again, scraping into his legs. -Alone might be the only way he makes it out alive.- The thought burned through him, bitter and certain.

The truck hit a patch of gravel, the tires crunching loudly. The forest thickened as they turned onto the narrow dirt road leading deeper into the woods. The air smelled of wet earth and pine, sharp and cold, but not as cold as he felt deep inside.

He tilted his head just enough to glance into the side mirror. Behind them, Hopper’s headlights bounced along the holes in the road, Nancy’s car a smaller glow behind that. Too far. Too slow.

Wayne noticed the look and said nothing, just shifted the truck into a lower gear as the path narrowed.

Steve’s claws tapped restlessly against his thigh. -If they can take him once, they can take him again. They’ll kill him. They’ll kill him because of me… I need to kill them before that happens.-

The thought pinched the air from his lungs. He pressed his palms flat against the dashboard, claws biting into the cracked vinyl to ground himself.

Wayne spared him a quick glance, reading the tension in him like a book. “We’ll get him back.” The words were as steady as bedrock, not the innocent certainty the kids had, but a swear. “But don’t burn yourself up before we even get there. Ed’s is gonna need you sharp.”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He just stared into the dark woods ahead, every muscle wired tight, every breath a low promise.

Whatever waited at the cabin- plans, arguments, more endless talking- none of it mattered.

If the lab wanted a fight, they’d get one.

If they wanted a monster.. Steve Harrington was ready to give them exactly what they feared.

Chapter 41: Preparing For War

Summary:

“We’re pets,” he said at last. “We’re projects… Experiments. That’s all we’ve ever been to them. That’s all we’ll ever be.”

Notes:

TW: Scars.

Some new information about their time in hiding is revealed ;)

I did a bunch of research for guns for this and probably got put on a list somewhere, so enjoy!

The sun was starting to sink when Wayne eased the truck into the clearing. The late afternoon sun bleeding gold across the dirt like it was trying to pretty up a place that didn’t deserve it. Steve barely noticed. All he could see was the old van parked at the far edge, freshly cleaned, tires slightly sunk into damp dirt.

Doc’s van.

His fingers tightened on the door handle until the plastic creaked. He knew what van- knew every scratch, every bump in the back, every squeaky hinge. He knew the way the back door needed to be lifted just right to open, the way the upholstery had an ever-present smell of cigarettes.

He knew how Eddie looked sleeping inside it. How Eddie laughed inside it, breathless and close. Knew how Eddie tasted when he pulled him across the bench seat and kissed him stupid. He knew the quiet peace inside, when the world shrank down to just the creaky metal and Eddie’s warm, calloused hands.

For a heartbeat, he could almost feel Eddie there, a phantom weight leaning into his side, rings dragging against his sides as Eddie tugged him closer. A flash of a grin. The stupid, reckless happiness of being alive and together.

It hurt, the thought that followed behind the echo of Eddie’s laugh: -What if that’s gone?-

What if that was the last time? What if the lab had already-

The engine cut, snapping the thought clean. Wayne’s hand moved toward the keys, slowly, like he was buying time. “Steve-”

He shoved the door open before the older man could finish.

The metal groaned. Then he slammed it- hard enough that the whole truck rattled. Birds startled from the trees in a scatter of chirps and wings.

He didn’t care. Couldn’t.

His boots hit dirt and he was moving, muscles tight and so very cold under his skin. Every step landed heavy, a muted thunk against the packed earth. Fists clenched. Shoulders locked. His fangs had retracted back sometime during the drive, but the rest of him still felt sharp, like his bones were wired for violence.

Behind him, engines cut one after another. Doors rushed open. Voices rose.

“Steve! Wait up!” Robin’s voice, pitched high.
“Where the hell are you-” Hopper, almost angry.
“Slow down, man!” Mike, too loud, too annoying.
“Steve! Wait!” Dustin, but he couldn’t.

He ignored them.

The forest swallowed him as he marched down, what looked to the untrained eye, a random path. Each stride chewed up the trail, branches slapping at his arms, pine needles crunching beneath his boots. He wanted the sound- wanted the sharp, snapping rhythm to drown out the noise in his head.

-They’ve got him in a cage right now. Maybe the metal room. Maybe worse. Maybe he’s strapped down.. Maybe he’s screaming.-

His breath hitched. He pushed on.

-They’ll test him. Cut him open if they think he’s worth it. If they did it to me… They’ll do it to him.-

A low growl coiled at the back of his throat.

The questions kept coming, nipping at his heels as they struggled to keep up.
“Steve, where are we-”
“Man, you can’t just-”
“Talk to us Ste-”

Their voices stacked, layer over layer, until it was just screeching in his ears.

-Shut up. Shut. Up. SHUT UP.-

He stopped dead.

The suddenness of it- boots digging into dirt, shoulders squared- made the group stumble to a halt behind him.

He turned. Slowly. The air shifted. The woods held their breath. Every eye was on him, faces wary, waiting.

His own voice came out rough, edged with something darker than just anger. “I’m taking you all to meet Doc.” A pause, a drag of air through clenched teeth. “The guy who saved my life. The guy who saved Eddie’s life. So either shut. The. Fuck. Up. And follow. Or go home.”

He waited. And for a heartbeat, no one moved. The words hung thick in the air as he stared at them, face the definition of pissed off, nostrils flaring. He wanted to bare his teeth, but forced the feeling back.

Robin’s mouth opened and closed. Dustin blinked several times, confusion flickering across his face. Hopper’s eyes narrowed as he looked over at Wayne, who just watched Steve steadily, mouth set in a determined line. A low ripple of whispers moved through the group- fragments of disbelief from the kids.

-They weren’t supposed to know. No one but Wayne was supposed to know about this place, about Doc… But Eddie wasn’t supposed to go back either.-

He no longer cared.

When no one spoke up, Steve spun on his heels and started forward again, feet pounding into the dirt in a punishing rhythm.

-Every second counts.-

Branches snapped underfoot. The smell of damp leaves and distant rain filled his lungs, but it wasn’t enough to cut the sour taste of fury. His thoughts circled back to the same terrifying path he’d been on before.

-What are they doing to him now? Do they have him in the box? Or is he strapped down while some asshole with a clipboard writes notes? Maybe they’ve already started. Maybe they’ve pumped him so full of drugs he can’t tell up from down. Maybe.. Maybe he thinks I’m leaving him there.-

His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it.

-They think they can just take him. They think they can take what’s mine and walk away?-

A low, involuntary sound rumbled out of his chest. Too quiet for any human to hear. Animals skittered off in the distance, afraid of the predator in the woods.

None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was forward.

Doc. Eddie. Blood for blood if he had to.

Steve kept moving.

---

Just because he was ahead of them didn’t mean the questions stopped. They continued loud- though Wayne put a stop to that, making sure now that they understood how quiet they needed to be here- sharp, and overlapping one another. But Steve didn’t hear a word. He ignored everything, focusing solely on getting to the cabin. Wayne answered what he could, quietly, making sure not to share more than he had to.

He took a subtle breath in. Wood, pine, old cigarettes, and… And the faint scent of Eddie. -God. Eddie.. It’s like.. Like he brushed against the trees.- He closed his eyes for a second, letting it wash over him. It wasn’t some faint memory. But something real. Warm leather and late-night sweat, a hint of the conditioner he loved, and something darker, something that was just wholly Eddie and nothing else.

The air tasted like him.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. A sound clawing its way up the back of his throat. A broken, desperate whine that he forced back down. -No. No. Gotta stay strong. Gotta get him back.-

He froze at the sight that greeted him, everyone behind him stumbling to a halt.

Doc stood on the cabin porch, shotgun leveled, pointing directly at Steve’s chest. The barrel didn’t waver.

The man’s eyes flickered over the group, sharp and assessing, until they landed on Steve again. Recognition softened the lines around his mouth, letting out a quiet exhale, he lowered the gun, just an inch, but kept it ready. “Steve… Wayne.. Either of you going to-”

“The Lab took Eddie.” Steve cut him off, no greeting, no wasted breath, stomping forward until he stood at the bottom step, shoulders squared, eyes locked on the older man. “And I’m going to get him back. So let me in to get what I need, I won’t hear any argument, so don’t try and stop me. Everyone else-” he jerked a thumb at the group without looking “-insisted on going too. And I can’t waste any more time. So here we are.”

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Doc’s face tightened, worry flickering across it the moment lab had left Steve’s mouth. Slowly, carefully, he lowered the gun the rest of the way. He searched Steve’s face, lingering on the hard set of his jaw, the sharp gleam of his half-bared teeth.

A heavy sigh. “Alright then.” Doc said quietly, stepping back and motioning them inside.

It was even worse inside. The second he walked through the door, the cabin reeked of smoke, old coffee, and Eddie. Eddie was everywhere as if he were woven into each piece of wood. How had he not smelt it before?

He closed his eyes, savoring the next breath. -He’s here. He’s right here.- He wanted to cry.

Doc moved toward the little kitchenette, opening a drawer and closing it again quickly. “I hoped something like this would never happen,” he muttered, voice clipped. “But I prepared for the worst.” He slid the shotgun into a rack above the table and strode toward the bookshelf.

Steve followed, every step forced. The air was thick with Eddie- fresh enough to make his fangs ache, raw enough to draw memories flashing behind his eyes. Eddie leaning against the counter, laughing. Eddie’s fingers hooked into his belt loops. Eddie’s mouth on his.

-Don’t breathe. Just.. Just stop breathing.-

Doc reached the bookshelf and glanced back to the group, “Stay close.”

-Faster.- His mind hissed. -Move faster old man, before I rip the wall down!-

Steve let out an inaudible growl as he stomped forward. He shoved the shelf aside, muscles straining with the need to do, to move, to tear the world open. His claws almost slipped in his desperation, gouging faint grooves into the wood as he harshly punched in the code behind it.

The hidden door cracked open with a soft hiss.

He’d smelt it before the shelf even moved. Eddie. Richer. Closer.

But now it hit with such force, and was more painful than any bullet or secret lab ever could be. It wasn’t just a trace, not some lingering ghost. But Eddie. Sharp, warm, and there, tangled between the sharp scent of concrete and metal.

It wrapped around him, clawed its way under his skin, and sank into his lungs. It flooded every inch of his senses before the door even finished sliding back. His chest expanded on reflex, lungs dragging in a deep, greedy breath before he could stop himself.

His reaction, or lack thereof, came immediately. His knees wanted to give, but he held still. His heart- or whatever replaced it now- thundered in his chest. His fangs pushed down hard enough to scrape his lips as he pushed them together, tight.

-He’s here. He’s right fucking here.-

Except.. He isn’t. Not anymore. The bond was gone. The lingering scent of him was everything and nothing all at once- proof that Eddie existed, and proof that he was lost.

Steve forced the air out of his lungs until his chest burned, until the next breath wouldn’t come. -Just cut it off.- He locked his throat, strangled down every instinct that screamed to inhale. If he let himself breathe, he’d drown in it. He’d rip the walls apart with his bare hands just to follow the trail. He needed to shut down the reflex before it destroyed him.

But even holding his breath didn’t help. Eddie still cut through everything, his scent was everywhere. Soaked into concrete, riding the faint current of recycled air, clinging to the railing as they descended. It burned in his throat, dragged memories across his nerves like barbed wire. -He was here… He was right here. Laughing, talking, breathing, and now he’s..-

Doc didn’t pause, he moved on ahead and out of the doorway. “Stay close,” he called back over his shoulder, voice clipped. “And don’t wander.. That drawer up there prepared the rooms for unexpected guests. All of the doors and windows have been sealed, just so you all don’t enter anywhere unexpected.”

Behind Steve, the others murmured in quiet awe. Robin’s whispered, “Holy- is this seriously where you’ve been living?” Dustin’s breathless, “This is totally a Bond villain liar.” Max muttered something about a fallout shelter.

None of it garnered a response. None of it was important.

His ears tuned into every sound- the hiss of pressure seals, the low hum of hidden generators- all of it just blurred under the pounding in his skull. Eddie’s scent threaded through every breathless second like a live wire. His chest ached with the need to inhale him, to draw it deep, to know.

A whine threatened to bubble up, but he bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress it. It was inevitable really, so why not now? He really couldn’t help it, sneaking in little breaths, little bits of Eddie. Stronger now, thick and warm, and.. And occasionally mixing with his own scent.

The smell of them.

It was truly unbearable.

But stopping felt like losing a part of himself, like ripping his soul in two. So Steve couldn’t bring himself to stop. Couldn’t truly let go of that last little piece that calmed his nerves.

But each step down was another blade sunk into his heart. Each inhale- no matter how shallow- dragged Eddie’s memory across raw nerves. His claws threatened to burst through again. His fangs throbbed with the need to bite, to claim, to carve a path back to the man who’d been ripped away. He needed every scrap of Eddie he could get.

-He was here, walked right here. Left pieces of himself and.. And I couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t save him.-

Wayne’s presence at his back was his only anchor- a silent weight in the chaos. But it still wasn’t enough to calm the way his mind snarled and twisted with every breath.

-They took him. They took him from ME. And I can.. I can smell what they stole. My Eddie. My… Mine.- The thought snapped viciously, fangs aching against his guns, threatening to drop again.

Doc didn’t stop, didn’t ask questions. Just let them through the long corridor lined with sealed doors and blacked out windows. The place smelled of oil and a cleaner that had been recently used, sharp enough to string even human noses. But he caught none of it. Only Eddie.

They passed the sealed door of the kitchen. Someone- Eddie- had cooked here recently. He knew it. Could almost taste the faint trace of burnt coffee and the sugar-sweet ghost of Eddie’s cologne.

He clenched his fists tightly, forcing his claws to stay back. -Keep walking. Hold it together. Just until we get Eddie back. Just.. Just until then.-

Next they passed the sealed up training room. If he was paying attention he’d be able to smell the rubber floors and recently fixed walls. The training dummies and mats that were pushed tight into the corners too. Steve’s head jerked toward it involuntarily, the scent slamming into him like he was being thrown across one of those mats. Sweat. Eddie’s sweat. Old layered over new. His legs nearly buckled.

Steve clamped his teeth together until they threatened to crack.

-He trained here, without me. Maybe laughed when he missed a pinch. Maybe he…-

The ache in his chest sharpened to a knifes point. But it didn’t matter, he forced another small breath in, holding himself tight while the group shuffled behind him, wide-eyed at the bunker’s hidden world. Or what they could see of it anyway.

“Holy crap,” Dustin whispered as they passed the still open lounge room. Bean bags, which they’d managed to convince Doc they needed, two comfortable couches, a large tv, and multiple bookshelves full of books, VHS tapes, and more.

“Yeah,” Robin breathed, half in awe as they passed the ‘containment room’. “This is-”

“Not a tour,” Doc barked, not looking back as he continued on. “Eyes forward.”

Steve almost snarled his agreement. He didn’t want their wonder or questions. He wanted Eddie.

The hallway stretched on, each step a fresh wound. Eddie’s scent thickened the deeper they went, as if the walls themselves were bleeding it out just to torment him. He couldn’t help it- his chest tried to expand, to drag in more, to drink in the scent like it was the only thing keeping him alive. But he locked down his throat as they inched deeper in, forced himself to stay empty. Cold. Alone.

-If I breathe.. I’ll lose it. I’ll lose myself.-

Doc finally stopped after several twists and turns, standing before a massive black door sunk flush into concrete. It wasn’t just a door- it was a vault, matte steel reinforced with heavy rivets and a digital lock that pulsed faintly in the artificial light.

Steve stared at it, heart hammering. He never thought they’d ever need this, thought Doc was paranoid for even keeping it around. But now.. Now he regrets every single comment or insulting thought he’d ever had about the man.

His hands curled into first so tight his knuckles cracked. -He was here. He’s still here.. No.. No, they took him from me. From THIS. From our home!- A low sound rumbled in his chest. A growl but he sounded wrong... Broken..

Doc keyed in a sequence on the illuminated pad, each beep a nail in Steve’s metaphorical coffin. “This way,” he said quietly, eyes flicking toward Steve as if he understood. “We don’t have time to waste.” -And maybe he does.-

Steve didn’t hesitate, squeezing past Doc into the large room. The lights flickered to life in a sudden, clinical burst- rows upon rows of bright white fluorescents humming awake, flooding the room in sharp, unforgiving clarity. Steel gleamed back at him from every direction. With a subtle breath, the place smelt of cold metal and sterilized air.

In the center stood three massive steel tables, two pushed more toward the sides of the room, while the third commanded the middle like an altar. They were tall, cabinets under each of them. The walls were lined with seamless panels of steel, blank and featureless, their smooth surfaces catching the light and throwing it back in hard, ghostly reflections. Nothing around to district the eye. And nothing to comfort.

It should have looked unimpressive, but to Steve, it thrummed with a quiet promise of violence.

“Have a seat.” Doc motioned to a cluster of metal chairs bolted near the door. “Steve’ll get you what you need. As for me..” He tilted his head toward the exit. “I’m going to make calls. Pull every string I can. If there’s information out there, I’ll find it.”

He started to leave, but backtracked at the last second, stepping over to rest a steadying hand on Steve’s shoulder. “If you need me to know anything, just look up at the camera. I’ll keep an eye out and the comms open. Meet in the kitchen when you’re done.”

Steve gave a tight nod, the tension in his jaw barely allowing it. He reached up and, with as much restraint as he could muster, patted Doc’s hand in silent thanks.

Just as the man started to leave-

“Wait!” He quickly dug into his pocket, fingers scrabbling until they closed around the plastic baggie he’d managed to nab earlier. He held it out, the bloodied bullets and gauze catching the sterile light.

“Here. I was shot earlier and..” His lips pressed into a thin line. “It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t heal until they were out and.. I didn’t.. Hear them being fired either. I don’t know why so.. If you can figure it out-”

Doc glanced at the bag, worry flashing behind his steady mask. He gave a short, grim nod. “I’ll look into it.” He wanted to ask more- Steve could see it- but time was bleeding away. The other man took it carefully, and left without another word.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the lights.

Steve turned to the group, voice coming out sharp. “Stay seated. Only one who can touch anything in here besides me is Wayne.” It came out almost growled. Clipped and edged with the kind of authority that dared anyone to test it. No one moved.

He whipped around and strode toward the center table, boots ringing against the concrete floor. For a moment he just circled it, eyes scanning the featureless room as if searching for something no one else could see. Then, without warning, he veered left and reached down, fingers pressing against what looked like an empty stretch of metal paneling.

A hidden drawer angled outward.

He yanked it open, glanced around at the group, and then pulled out a cluster of matte black objects. He didn’t linger. Another panel, another drawer, more and more of seemingly the same thing. He moved with a restless efficiency, one drawer to the next, until the left table was nearly covered in messy flowing piles.

He faced the group at last, eyes dark and sharp, sweeping them over everyone with a weight that made even Hopper straighten in his seat.

“I’m gonna be honest with you.” He started, closing his eyes for a beat as he wrested down the storm boiling inside. Calm. He needed to stay calm. Eddie needed him to be calm. When he opened them again, he found the room staring back.

“Brenner’s an arrogant asshole. He wouldn’t have moved Eddie anywhere but to a place he trusts. Which is either The Rainbow Room.. Or The Grey Room. We know he isn’t here. And that lab is already built to handle us so-”

Hopper opened his mouth, about to interrupt, but Steve cut him off with a raised hand. “Let me finish… Please.”

Hopper gave a single, begrudging nod.

“I know where it is. I know how to get there. And.. I have a damn good plan on how to break in. WHICH-” he got louder when Hopper opened his mouth again. “-Eddie and I had been making a plan on how to take them down. It originally started as a joke, a stupid way to get past the nightmares. We’d never planned on actually doing it… But now.. Here I am. So-”

He took a slow step forward, gaze locking on each person in turn as his voice hardened, face blank. “If you’re not coming with me, that’s fine. You can stay down here, or wait outside the lab and run support with Doc. But if you are coming. Cool. I’ll set aside gear for you. But. You follow my rules. You listen to me, you move when I say. If I say shoot a man, you shoot a man, and you don’t argue. Not once.”

His eyes narrowed on the kids, daring them to test him. “I’m not playing games anymore. I’m not gonna be nice about it either.”

He jerked his chin toward the stacked gear. “I’m going in with the intention of killing anyone who gets in my way. Anyone. I’ll do whatever it takes to get Eddie back, whatever it takes to stop those assholes. If you can’t handle that, or if you think you can talk me down. Don’t. Come. If you’re gonna argue, slow me down, or try and reason with me, I’ll leave you behind in there.”

The room stayed deathly still.

“I know it sounds harsh,” he went on, voice dropping but no less sharp. “And I’m sorry. But I can’t hold back in there, because I know what they’re capable of. I know what they’re willing to do. I’ll use every weapon I have- claws, fangs, whatever it takes. It won’t be pretty. There'll be a lot of blood, and dead bodies too. It might even give you nightmares.”

His gaze cut through each of them as he looked around. “So if you even think you might not be able to handle it. Stay back.. Please.”

No one made a sound. Not even the lights dared to hum louder.

Eventually, he gave a quiet nod and turned back to the large pile. “Whether you’re coming or not, I’ll be setting aside something for everyone. Just in case.” His voice carried a rough edge of authority, steady with the kind of calm that came from determination. Quietly, almost silently, he began to move around the tables, quick but precise. Plain black shirts and pants got separated and laid out until each table held carefully matched pairs, one for every person in the room.

“Max.” Steve broke the hush that had fallen over the room. Turning to her he held up a shirt, his tone coming gentler than it had been all day, though tension still strained through. “I’m setting one out for you. But..” He exhaled softly. “I can’t have you coming in.”

Max’s chin dipped in a small, silent nod. “I know.” She whispered, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. Lucas tightened his arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him, offering Steve the smallest, almost defiant hint of a smile.

“I’ll see if we can’t have you down here in the training rooms after all this.” He added softly, it earned him an actual smile this time. He turned away before they could see the pain behind his eyes. Back to work.

When the final set of clothes was laid out with military precision, Steve paused in the center of the room, eyes scanning the steel walls, searching for something only he could sense. His gaze sharpened, eyes narrowed. Without a word, he crossed to the left wall.

He could feel all eyes on him as he reached high and gripped a narrow seam in the metal. With a practiced tug, a recessed compartment released with a metallic click. Inside, an array of weapons glinted faintly under the harsh fluorescent lights. He pulled down a pair of curved daggers first, their blackened blades catching a cold shimmer. He set them carefully beside a shirt on the nearest table.

Next came a set of throwing knives, their silver edges honed to a perfect, surgical sharpness. He tested the balance of one in his hand, before laying them out in a tight row. Finally, his hand ghosted over a long, leather-wrapped hilt and drew out a sheathed sword. Its presence felt heavier than mere metal. He stared at it for a moment, as if checking for something in its stillness, before laying it down carefully across the table, aligning it perfectly above a shirt on the left end.

His movements were economical, deliberate, but there was a tension under his skin that betrayed the storm inside. Every weapon he touched was another silent vow. Another promise of what he was willing to do.

When the last blade was placed, he marched to the middle wall, eyes narrowed. He crouched, fingers finding a nearly invisible groove. With a soft metallic scrape, a hidden drawer slid forward. From it, he lifted a long, black case and carried it to the center table.

The box thudded down against steel with a weight that made everyone flinch back. He flicked the latches open with quick, sharp motions. Inside, compartments held bundles of gear- holsters, tactical belts, reinforced gloves, coils of dark rope, and small, square packets whose purpose was obvious even before he set them aside: explosives.

He began organizing without explanation, placing certain items next to specific outfits with the ease of someone who had already built this plan a hundred times in his mind. The sword and knives stayed with the first set of clothes on the left table. Two of the holsters were placed next to others, one on the far table, one in the middle. He worked fast, eyes sharp, movements crisp and cold.

When everything was arranged to his exacting standards, Steve turned back to the group. A flicker of something- grim amusement, maybe- tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re about to see Wayne’s favorite part-” he started, voice low but carrying in the stillness. “-any of you get up, I’m sending you to wait in Doc’s office.”

He strode to the middle table and slid a flat palm over the smooth metal. Then, seemingly at random, with two fingers, he tapped twice.

Tap. Tap.

A deep mechanical clunk reverberated through the room. The walls shuddered- and then began to move.

Panels rotated with a heavy, grinding hum, the seamless steel peeling back like layers of a secret. The walls split open, the room seeming to grow before their eyes.

Rows upon rows of weapons emerged from hidden recesses: rifles, shotguns, sleep black carbines, handguns of every shape and caliber. Magazines gleamed in the harsh light. And in the far back past it all- three bullseyes sat pinned to the wall, several training dummies spaced throughout. A small firing range built into the room.

Gasp and startled shouts erupted behind Steve, the kids’ voices overlapping in excitement.

But he wasn’t done.

With one more tap, at the very end of the room, the back wall of the shooting range rumbled and then split down the center, panels sliding apart to reveal yet another arsenal. Racks of long-range rifles, crates of ammunition, specialized gear stacked neatly in labeled compartments. Enough firepower to arm a small militia.

He didn’t react, just stood there for a moment, watching the groups’ wide eyes reflect the cold light of the weapons. The hum of machinery faded, leaving a heavy silence broken only by the faint buzz of the fluorescents overhead.

“This,” Steve started quietly, gesturing to the gleaming rows of steel, “is what Doc meant by worst case scenario.” His eyes narrowed, voice dropping to a rough growl. “And we’ve officially hit it.”

Hopper was the first to break their stunned silence, his choked voice echoing off the steel walls. “Jesus Christ, Harrington,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face as he stared at the towering walls of weapons. “Tell me you at least know how to use half this stuff.” His brow furrowed as he squinted at Steve, the skepticism thick in his tone. “You don’t exactly scream marksman. Bat wielding, sure. Maybe even those fancy knives, but guns?”

He turned his head just enough to meet Hopper’s stare. A slow, unmistakable smirk crept across his face, sharp and almost cocky despite the heavy tension still hanging in the room.

“You think Eddie and I were just hiding down here, playing cards and watching bad tv?” His voice carried a quiet confidence, the kind that didn’t need to be loud to be dangerous. “We’ve been training. With-” he put strong emphasis on the word, eyes glinting- “and without weapons.”

Wayne, leaning casually against the wall, let out a low chuckle. “He ain’t kidding,” he drawled, voice cutting through the room. “Those two boys are probably the best shots I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a hell of a lot of shooters in my day.” He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Even if they both swear up and down they hate guns.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a quiet huff as he crossed to the far wall of long range rifles. “I do hate guns,” he said flatly, though there was a flicker of dry amusement beneath the words. He reached up and pulled a sleek black rifle from its mount, checking the weight with a practiced motion before carrying it back to the leftmost table. He set it down carefully beside the sword.

“After being shot at?” He continued, tone darkening slightly as his fingers brushed the polished metal. “Yeah, not a fan. And after actually being shot?” He gave a short, humorless laugh, looking up briefly to meet Hopper’s eyes. “Yeah. Definitely not a fan.”

He shot them all with a tense smile, soft laughter bubbling up as he shook his head. A few of them exhaled their own shaky laughs, and the room finally loosened just enough for the air to feel breathable again. “But.. My eyesights only improved.” He shrugged. “I’ll use whatever I have to.”

Then Steve was moving again, body a blur of precise efficiency. He turned back to the wall of weapons and reached for a shotgun, pulling it free with a soft tug. The gun made a dull, satisfying thud as he set it on the nearest table. Behind him, the quiet murmur of conversation picked up- Hopper trading low words with Wayne, the kids whispering excitedly- but he barely paid it any mind.

He grabbed a pair of compact handguns next, checking their chambers with a flick of his wrists before placing them near two separate piles of clothing. Magazines followed- single stacks, double stacks, long and short- all sorted into neat clusters between outfits. Each motion was purposeful and practiced, the sharp clicks of metal on metal echoing in the otherwise hushed space.

Every placement had a purpose. Every choice a strategy. He didn’t just set down weapons; he paired tools with people, measuring weight and recoil against skill and strength in the quiet mathematics of survival.

By the time the final magazine was placed, the tables looked less like preparation and more like war plans laid bare.

Steve stepped back, scanning his work, checking the walls, then the tables again. When he was happy with it, with a snap of his fingers- two sharp cracks that echoed around them- the walls began to shift again.

Panels rotated back into seamless steel with a grinding whir. The endless rows of weapons disappeared as if they’d never existed, the racks folding in on themselves until only smooth, unbroken metal remained. The back wall slid shut with a final heavy clunk, sealing the hidden arsenal back into shadow.

The kids erupted again into overlapping shouts and cheers, voices bouncing wildly in excitement off the reinforced walls.

“Holy shit that was awesome!” Dustin shouted, eyes shining as he cranked his neck to catch the last moment of the closing panels.
“Did you see that?” Lucas muttered, jaw slack.
“Way cooler than War Zone.” Robin admitted under her breath.

He allowed himself the barest twitch of a grin before his expression slid back to something colder, sharper. He turned away from their excitement and strode toward the far right wall. To the untrained eye, there was nothing there but the blank expanse of brushed steel.

But Steve knew better.

He reached for an invisible seam near the floor, fingers pressing into what looked like solid metal until a soft click rewarded his touch. A narrow compartment eased outward with a quiet hiss of hydraulics. From within, he pulled a long, slim black box- no markings, no labels, just a single latch gleaming under the lights.

He carried it to the center table and set it down carefully, the muted thud of its weight carrying an almost ominous finality. He didn’t open it. Didn’t explain it.

Then, without missing a beat, Steve crossed to the far left wall. He pressed his palm flat against another invisible panel. A nearly inaudible click was followed by the smooth hiss of hydraulics as several low cabinets popped open at the base of the wall.

Inside: boots. Rows of them. Heavy, black combat boots polished to a faint sheen.

He crouched and pulled out two pairs, carrying them back to the table. One pair he placed neatly beside the sword and rifle, the other he set beside the outfit next to it. His movements were methodical, but there was something almost ritualistic in the way he handled the gear- like each item carried a weight beyond its physical heft.

Straightening, he turned back toward the group. His gaze swept across them, sharp and measuring, before settling on Hopper. “What’s your shoe size?”

Hopper blinked, taken aback. “Uh… Twelve?”

Steve gave a curt nod, turning back to the open cabinet. He crouched and pulled a pair of size twelve boots from the row, setting them aside without a word. Then he moved on to the others, eyes flicking to each face in turn.
“Lucas?”
“Ten.” Lucas replied, still half-staring at the sealed black box on the table.
“Dustin?”
“Ten.” Dustin’s automatic reply came cracked with barely restrained excitement.
“Robin?”
“Seven.” She muttered, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Steve worked down the line, each answer met with a nod and a corresponding pair of boots pulled from the hidden cabinets. He didn’t bother matching them to specific outfits, instead, setting each pair neatly aside in a growing cluster at the edge of the table behind him.

By the time he finished, a small mountain of black combat boots stood ready, each pair a silent promise of the dangers ahead.

He straightened up slowly, rolling his shoulders back as he swept his eyes over the room- his family, the gear laid out in neat rows on the tables. He reached back and pushed the cabinets closed. And for a long moment, the only sound was the faint buzz of overhead lights and the steady heartbeats beside him as he took it all in.

Everything was in place.

…Almost.

“I.. Need you all to understand how serious this is.” Steve murmured after a minute. He let the words hang stale in the humming air, the buzzing of the lights seemed suddenly deafening against the silence that followed.

“I need you to understand,” he repeated, softer this time. The words felt like gravel scratching his throat. “This isn’t just.. Bad people doing bad things. I need you to…” He shook his head. “I need you to see that these people.. They don’t see me or Eddie as people. We’re not.. Human’s to them.”

He stretched and curled his fingers at his sides until the knuckles blanched, nails biting deep into his palms. The small bite of pain barely registered. He forced himself to inhale, to keep his voice steady. “They don’t care what happens to any of us.”

“I just.. Need you to understand that.” He turned, slowly, nervously. Wayne sucked in a sharp, audible breath. He knew what was coming. He’d seen it before, and the sight hadn’t gotten any easier, covered in blood or not. The very first time he’d acted fine, then gone and broke down behind the wheel of his truck in the clearing.

Steve reached for the hem of his shirt, fingers trembling, but he kept his face pointedly blank, a mask of quiet resolve. He peeled the fabric up and off in one slow motion, baring his back first, then his shoulders, until the shirt slid free and hung limply in his grip.

The room collectively stiffened.

The scars were worse in the harsh white lighting. Old wounds from all the times he’d gone against something from the Upside Down still mapped across his slides, back, and neck, jagged and pale against his skin, familiar but still brutal.

But beneath those- cutting across them, weaving between them- were the newer marks. Some were clean and long, precise lines down his back. Others jagged and cruel, criss crossing like someone had played a game of tic-tac-toe with a scalpel. Some were thin, others thick and raised, angry even after healing.

Steve heard the sharp, collective intake of breath behind him but chose to ignore it. They need to understand, to see.

“Eddie had more.” He admitted quietly, voice flat, almost detached. “They.. They wanted to see how long we’d take to heal. Or if we’d scar. Or break.” His jaw twitched as the words dragged out of him. “Sometimes it was tests. Sometimes it was just… Curiosity. To see how we’d react to certain things.”

“They-” his voice caught for a second before he quickly forced it steady again, tone dull and clinical. “-redid some of these over and over. Too deep, too often. Some were almost down to the bone at one point. And my healing.. It couldn’t keep up.” He gave a weak, humorless shrug. “Doc says the tissue just.. Gave up over time. Healed over, but stopped trying to make it perfect. The.. The ones they only did once or twice are completely gone. Else there’d be more here.”

Hopper cracked through the quiet that followed his admission, voice hoarse. “How-... I.. Jesus Christ, kid… I thought-” He faltered, staring at the lattice of scars as if trying to rearrange them into something that made sense. “I thought those were from the quarry. Not from- Christ- I thought they were healing.”

He turned his head just enough to glance at Hopper, eyes unreadable. “Yeah. That was the point.” He forced a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Easier for everyone if you all thought that.” He rolled a shoulder, casual in a way that almost made it cruel. “Doc says if I reopen them, maybe my healing will finally fix them. But.. Who knows.”

His gaze dropped to the floor, to the faint scuffs on the concrete beneath his boots. “He isn’t sure about the bat ones though, since they happened before. But I don’t really mind except..” He tried for a lighter note and failed. “Eddie doesn’t mind, though. Likes that we match. Thinks the one on my throat looks ‘metal as hell’.” His mouth twitched in a shy half-smile, the words tumbling out too quickly- rambling to fill the space, to keep from drowning in it.

Slowly, he turned to face them fully. His chest was bare, the scars impossible to ignore. Clean surgical lines bisected his ribs. Rough lines cut across his chest, a stark contrast against the hair there.

He lifted a hand and pointed to a small pale line low on his right side. “This one?” His voice was quiet, dry. “I won’t ever have to worry about appendicitis because they took it, ‘for research’.”

His fingers skimmed over to a longer, straighter scar that ran like a cruel seam down the left side of his abdomen. “This,” he continued, eyes fixed down, unwilling, unable to meet their eyes, “is where they took a sample from my kidney.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he lowered his hand, pointedly not mentioning any of the multiple smaller scars that dotted his stomach like constellations- old incisions reopened again and again.

“They went back in. More than once, it’s why they’re still here.. To check how things were healing. To see if they’d… Regrow.” He gave a small, sharp exhale that might have tried to be a laugh. “Apparently. Everything grows back except my appendix, go figure. It just.. Didn’t? They couldn’t really understand why.. Doc doesn’t either.”

He shrugged, finally looking up. Their faces were a mix of raw emotion.

Joyce has both hands clamped over her mouth, tears streaking her cheeks as her shoulders tremble. Hopper’s face was carved in horror and something deeper- helpless fury- his fists clenched tight enough to whiten the knuckles. Murray for once- was silent, eyes soft as he took in the scars littering Steve’s chest.

Nancy stood stiff and pale, eyes glassy. While Jonathan looked like he might be sick. Robin- who’d seen glimpses of his stomach before- still stared like she was seeing a stranger. Eleven’s eyes were wide, haunted, her breath shallow.

The rest of the kids were frozen; Lucas was tight-lipped and pale, Max staring at the floor, eyes narrowed like it had insulted her. Will was holding onto Mike’s arm so tight it was turning red, Mike frozen staring in horror at Steve’s chest. Erica sat there, nostrils flared. Dustin.. Dustin looked absolutely crushed, face a mask of grief.

And Wayne just stood there with his arms folded tight across his chest, jaw clenched, gaze fixed firmly on the far wall. His eyes shone, but he refused to let the tears fall.

Steve rubbed absently at the faint ladder of scars running up his right arm, the motion as casual as if brushing away dirt. “This is what I needed you guys to understand,” he kept his voice low, almost emotionless now. “They don’t think of me and Eddie as people. We’re not kids. We’re not humans. We’re not.. Anything.”

His eyes- dark and unreadable- swept across each of them, pinning them in place.

“We’re just.. Pets,” he said at last. “We’re projects… Experiments. That’s all we’ve ever been to them. That’s all we’ll ever be.”

The silence that followed was heavy and loud. Though no one spoke. No one moved either. Even the air seemed to feel different- thicker, heavier, as if the bunker itself finally understood the weight of what he’d just laid bare.

Slowly, he turned away and walked to the far end of the left table, every step measured, every movement controlled. He laid his discarded shirt carefully across the cold metal, smoothing it flat with his fingertips before reaching for the plain black shirt waiting beside it. He shook it once before sliding it over his head.

Steve moved with purpose again, no unnecessary motions, no hesitation- pulling the hem down and adjusting the seams until it sat perfectly on his shoulders. He didn’t look at anyone as they remained silent behind him, but he could feel their eyes watching his every move.

Turning so his back faced them, to be polite, he unbuttoned the borrowed jeans from Hopper's cabin, and pushed them down with a quick jerk of his hands. The metal scrape of the zipper sounded far too loud in the quiet. In a single smooth motion he stepped into the matching black pants, pulling them up and tightening the elastic with a crisp tug.

When he finally faced them again, he found every pair of eyes still locked on him. Robin, pale and wide-eyed. Nancy, arms folded tight, knuckles white. Dustin, mouth slightly open, caught between worry and awe.

“I don’t know when Doc’s gonna have any information for us,” he started, keeping his voice low and even, the calm of someone who had already decided what came next. “But I plan on being ready when he does.”

He crouched and untied his torn boots. The heavy thud of leather hitting concrete echoed as he kicked them off. Without pause, he pulled the black combat boots toward him, sliding his feet inside and lacing them tight with a series of sharp, practiced pulls until the knots sat flush against them.

Standing again, Steve rolled his shoulders back. A soft groan escaping as his joints cracked. He moved on to the weapons next. Two sleek daggers first- one for each boot. He bent and slid them into hidden sheaths sewn along the inner seams, the motion smooth, almost graceful. Next came a fitted holster that he strapped across his upper back, buckling each clasp with quiet clicks before sliding several throwing knives into the angled slots.

Then the sword.

He lifted the sheathed blade with a steady grip, weighing it for a brief moment before attaching it using its strap to his waist. The hilt settled at his side in perfectly reach, the black leather strap snug across his hip.

Running a hand through his hair, he glanced toward the rifle still resting on the table. His gaze lingered on it for a heartbeat- measuring, considering- before he gave a small, private nod -I’ll bring it just in case- and turned away.

Everyone was still staring. His eyes swept across the room, meeting theirs one by one. The tension that had been choking the air began to thin, replaced by something steadier- and uneasy calm.

“So..” He exhaled slowly and pivoted back away from them. “Okay.”

Without another word, he began to gather the clothes from the left table. Each movement was clean, controlled, the careful choreography of someone who knew exactly where everything belonged. He kept each pair separated by a finger as he carried them across the room.

“Oddly enough,” he said quietly, a faint, almost wry edge to his tone. “I know what sizes you all wear.”

The comment broke the silence just enough for Robin to let out a shaky laugh. Small, but real.

He handed out the clothes table by table- first to Wayne, Hopper, Joyce, and even Murray. Then to Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, and Eleven. Then the rest of the kids. “You can change here or in the bathrooms down the hall later,” he continued. “Whether you’re coming or not. You get a pair. It’s just practical, good to have on hand for the future.” He gave a controlled shrug, the motion smooth but not careless.

By the time he finished, the air in the room felt different. The razor sharp tension had softened into a quieter resolve. They still watched him- awed, unsettled- but the oppressive weight had eased. He moved to stand beside the left table again, between it and the middle.

“Okay, so.. Weapons.” His voice cut through the low murmur in the room, sharp and commanding enough to bring everyone’s attention back to him. He gave a quick glance around as their faces staring back at him before settling on the organized spread of black steel and gleaming silver. “I’ve got mine. Wayne, you get your usual, assuming you’re-”

“I’m comin’.” Wayne’s response was immediate and firm, no hesitation, no room for argument. He met Steve’s eyes across the room and gave a curt nod. “Wasn’t even a question.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a faint smile and he gave a single, tight nod back. “Alright then. I already know what you’d prefer, so yours is all set.” He motioned vaguely toward a small, carefully arranged cluster of weapons near where he had his own.

Then his gaze shifted. “Hop.. I set aside things based on what I thought you’d like.” He stepped aside, one hand featuring toward the sprawling array laid out in precise rows. “So you can just-” He flicked his fingers in a beckoning motion. “-come take a look.”

The instant Hopper stood up, chair creaking behind him. Robin half-rose, Dustin shifted like he might sneak closer, even Mike started to rise.

Steve spun toward them, eyes narrowing. “Eh! Nope.” His voice cracked like a whip, cutting off the motion cold. “Sit. Down. I’m not trusting any of you brats not to accidentally shoot yourself in the foot. Only one at a time.”

A collective groan rolled through the group- muted complaints, frustrated sights- but no one moved again. He didn’t even bother to glare; just waited until the shuffle of bodies settled back into their chairs before turning back to Hopper.

The man stepped forward, eyes sweeping the table, lingering on the arsenal laid before them. Steve reached across the table, fingers brushing over matte black barrels and polished hilts as he spoke.

“I got you..” His voice lowered slightly, businesslike but with a quiet current of care. He motioned to three sleek handguns first. “These are all different weights and kicks. Glock’s the lightest- clean trigger, low recoil. Easier for quick draws and steady aim. The Sig’s heavier but balanced; it’ll hit harder without feeling like a brick. And this-” he rapped a black and steel Beretta with his knuckle. “-this one’s a classic. Smooth action, solid in the hand. Eddie hates it, calls it a cop gun. I think it’s reliable.”

Hopper leaned forward, brows furrowed as he picked up the Beretta. He turned it in his palm, testing the weight, releasing the magazine before sliding it back in. “Feels good,” he muttered, thumb brushing the grip. “Little heavy on the nose, though.”

Steve smirked faintly. “That’s the balance. She doesn’t kick as much as you’d think.”

Hopper set it down carefully, eyes moving to the two rifles propped in the center. Steve followed his gaze and slid one forward with a gentle push. “Remington semi-auto. Good for mid-range, decent for suppressing fire if things go south. Eddie and I used it a few times while training- she’s smooth, no surprises.”

“You’re full of surprises.” Hopper mumbled under his breath.

He nudged the second rifle forward. “This one might be more up your alley. Bolt-action. More stopping power, but slower reload. Cleaner precision, though, if you’re planning on putting someone down with one shot.”

Hopper reached for the second one, testing the slide with a crisp click-clack. He brought it up to his shoulder, sighting down the length of the barrel toward the far wall. His stance shifted instinctively- feet planting, elbows tucking. The old soldier in him was still there, muscle memory sliding into place like it had never left.

Steve watched with a small nod of approval. “Yeah. Thought you’d like that one. It’s smooth, and the kick’s manageable if you brace for it.”

Hopper lowered the gun slowly, eyes narrowing in though before moving on. He scanned the row of smaller weapons- compact SMGs, magazines stacked in neat rows, knives arranged like surgical tools. His hand hovered briefly over a short-barreled shotgun, fingers flexing before drawing back.

He caught the motion and reached out, sliding the weapon forward. “Pump-action twelve gauge,” he explained, tone flat but certain. “Close quarters. If things get messy inside, this’ll make sure they stay down. Heavy, but worth it if they get close.”

Hopper grunted, picking it up and testing the heft with both hands. He worked the pump once, the mechanical shhk-chk echoing through the bunker like a warning. “Yeah,” he muttered, more to himself than Steve. “This I can work with.”

“Thought so,” his lips tightened into a brief flicker of a smile. He tapped a row of thick, black magazines stacked neatly beside the rifles. “Plenty of ammo of each. Color coded by caliber- red tape for the shotguns, blue for the handguns, green for the rifles. Don’t mix them up. They’ll jam if you force it.”

Hopper looked over the colored tape, eyebrows lifting. “Organized.”

He gave a tight shrug, the kind that said of course I am, have you met me? “Eddie and I needed things to do. We trained. We caught up on some things we missed over the years. We organized. Doc kept us busy.” He motioned to the guns again. “If you’re carrying one of these in, you’d better know every inch of it before we leave. Doc had Eddie and I keeping ‘em oiled and clean so that’s not an issue.”

He gestured to the knives next- a selection of combat blades, throwing knives, and a pair of heavy, military grade machetes. “Secondary options. Quiet work if you need it. We preferred to practice with these more than the guns. They uh.. Work better with claws.”

Hopper reached for a combat knife, turning it in his palm. The blade caught the light. “Feels.. Good,” he admitted, surprise flickering across his face. “Balanced.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, almost too softly to be heard. “Won’t let you down if the guns fail.”

Hopper set it back carefully, his eyes lingering on the table. “You two really trained for this.” It wasn’t quite a question.

Steve’s jaw clenched, a faint flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. “We had to,” he kept his reply even. “Nobody else was gonna make sure we survived. Owens and his people over there did a fucked job twice now.”

The room behind them stayed silent, the quiet hum of the vault's generators pressing in as Hopper quietly reached over to test rifles bolt again, the sound of steel sliding against steel sharp in the quiet. Steve watched him like a hawk, every motion cataloged, every click and black weighed and approved, his stance as rigid and controlled as the weapons lined up in front of them.

Steve let his shoulders relax, just an inch, walking down to the middle of the table, rubbing a thumb along the edge of it as Hopper walked back to his chair with several of his choices. Slowly, he turned to face the group. “Alright.. Mrs… Joyce, you’re next.”

Joyce startled slightly, as though she’d been lost in thought, but stood when Steve motioned her over. He rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes flicking sideways toward Will for just a second before clearing his throat. “Uh- so, I remember Will saying something about you knowing how to use a shotgun.” He admitted almost sheepishly. “Figured I’d give you some options.”

He stepped aside so she could see the small spread he’d arranged for her. Three shotguns rested against the edge of the table- one pump action, one semi-auto, and a sleek double barrel that shined. Beside them sat a heavy axe with a steel handle, two hunting knives sheathed in leather, and a compact handgun with a matte finish.

“You don’t have to pick everything,” he added quickly, tone firm but not unkind. “Just.. Whatever feels right. We’re gonna need a lot of firepower. The uh.. The Rainbow Room had a skeleton crew compared to-” His voice caught for a beat. “-to the Grey Room.”

Joyce’s eyes hardened at that, a quiet storm building there. She reached for the pump action first, testing the weight with a practiced familiarity that had him arching a brow. She worked the slide with a sharp clack, then set it down and picked up the axe, turning it in her hands as if imagining the swing.

He stayed close, watching carefully but not interfering as she chose the shotgun, the axe, and one of the hunting knives. He handed her a shoulder holster for the knife without a word, and when she slid it on to test it, he helped her adjust it, giving a small nod of approval.

“Good,” he said simply. “Kife stays on you at all times.. Just in case.” Joyce gave him a steady look, jaw tight, and returned to her seat with her selection cradled carefully.

Steve immediately turned to Nancy. He didn’t bother with a speech- just crooked a finger for her to come over as he walked to the middle table.

“You already know the drill.” He said as she stepped up beside him, the faintest hint of respect softening his clipped tone. He gestured broadly to the large selection in front of them, a mismatch of different weapons selected just for her. “Your choice. You’re capable- hell, more than capable- so whatever you want here is yours. I think the only thing I didn’t lay out for you is explosives.”

Nancy’s eyes swept over the weapons with a calculated calm, fingers brushing along the barrels of grips like she was memorizing each one. He watched her closely, occasionally leaning in to point out details when she lingered on something.

“That one’s got a hair trigger- watch your grip.”
“Scope’s clean on that rifle; you’ll have range but the recoil’s nasty.”
“Magazine release on that sidearm’s a little stiff, but it won’t jam.”

Nancy finally settled on a lightweight rifle and a compact pistol, checking each with an expert's touch. She also decided on a shotgun at the last second.

He slid a sheathed knife toward her across the table. “On you. Always.” He gave a brief nod. She didn’t argue, putting on top of her pile with a curd nod before taking it back to her seat.

“Murray,” he called next, tone flattening into something a little rougher as he turned back to the left table. “Your turn.”

Murray raised his brows at the lack of ceremony but ambled over anyway, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “You don’t sound too thrilled, Steve.” He teased.

“..I’m not.” Steve replied dryly, though his hands remained steady as he motioned to the display. “Pick something. And before you start- no, you’re not walking in there with just your fists, conspiracy theories, and a flame thrower.”

Murray snorted but obeyed, testing the heft of a handgun before exchanging it for a mid-sized rifle. He examined a combat knife, gave it a few experimental flips, and slipped it into its sheath with a satisfied hum.

“Knife stays on you.” He repeated pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Murray muttered, but there was no argument in his eyes.

With Murray moving back, Steve turned and scanned the room until his eyes landed on Jonathan. “C’mon Byers.” The corner of his mouth curved up just slightly.

Jonathan stood slowly, his face set in a careful mask. Steve didn’t lead him to the main table this time. Instead, he crossed to the far wall, crouched, and swung open a low cabinet door that blended almost perfectly with the metal paneling. Inside was another stash- close quarters weapons gleaming under the dim light.

He pulled out another axe, a dented but sturdy metal baseball bat, and a short handled crowbar, setting each on the side table. “Figured you might want something different,” he motioned around, voice a little softer now. “Take whatever you’re comfortable with. Even if you.. Decide not to come.”

Jonathan’s eyes locked on Steve’s, sharp and unwavering. “I’m coming,” he stated, voice low but heavy with resolve. “You, Eddie.. You’re my friends. You got taken once already because I wasn’t there. I’m not letting those bastards get away with it again.”

For a moment, the room felt impossibly still.

Then, Steve blinked, something flickering in his expression before he gently reached out and rested a firm hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “Alright,” he said quietly, giving his shoulder a solid squeeze. “Alright.” A little firmer, like he believed it. Jonathan reached up and patted his hand before they separated.

Jonathan picked up the bat first, running a thumb along its scarred metal surface. “Yeah I uh- Doc reinforced it, don’t ask me how, but I slammed it into a concrete pillar when I was angry so.. It got dented.” Steve shrugged as Jonathan moved onto the axe next. He picked up a knife without needing to be told. He also took two handguns, just to be safe.

“Robin,” he called next, tone smoothing into something soft but firm.

Robin stood quickly, her nervous energy betraying her even as she squared her shoulders. He gestured to the same area Jonathan had picked from. “Same deal. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Robin’s eyes darted to the row of firearms, then away, lingering instead on the melee weapons. Without hesitation she reached for an axe, testing its weight with both hands. She didn’t spare another glance at the guns.

“Knife.” He reminded, holding one out to her before she could walk away with her axe and crowbar. Robin hesitated, then nodded and took it carefully.

“Good.” He murmured, scanning the room again. He lingered for a beat on the kids- Will, Eleven, Mike, Lucas, Max, Erica, Dustin- each of them tense and waiting. But he didn’t call on them. Not yet.

With another roll of his shoulders he began to move again, unable to stay still for long. Wayne had already drifted toward the left table, wordlessly collecting his own weapons with the calm efficiency of a man who’d done this too many times before. They shared a brief nod across the room- a silent exchange that said I’ve got your back- before Steve shifted his focus to the center table.

He stood at its head, staring down at the neat rows of explosives, the gleam of steel and plastic. His fingers drummed an impatient rhythm against the metal- sharp, uneven, too loud in the otherwise hushed room. -Whatever it takes… I’ll get you back.- His hand hovered, then plucked up the grenades from the line, setting them aside with care.

-I’ll fight tooth and nail to find you.- A pair of black tactical gloves sat near the corner. He snapped them up, sliding them into his back pocket. -There’s nowhere I won’t go to find you.-

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, shoulders drawn tight. Eddie’s carefree grin flicked bright across his mind- bright, reckless, alive. -Please.. Just please… Be okay.-

The sound of his own tapping dragged him back- the rhythmic drumming of his fingers echoing off the walls. For a second the room felt too small, too bright. The air felt too thin, too charged, a static hum scrawling over his skin. He thought- hoped- they’d have more time before the lab tried to get them back. -I think we were just lucky they didn’t come sooner.-

Pushing off the table, he grabbed the long slim box and carried it back to the group. His boots thudded against the concrete, each step an echoed warning. When he stopped, every eye turned to him.

Steve planted himself in front of them, gaze sweeping the circle like a drill sergeant about to hand out orders. “Listen up.” His voice cut through the low hum of nervous breathing. He let the silence stretch until it was nearly uncomfortable. Then his eyes found Max and Erica. The hard edge softening- just slightly. “Max.. Erica. Neither of you are coming with.”

Erica’s mouth opened, defiance already flaring in her eyes, but his voice boomed before she could get a word out. “Don’t!” The single word snapped through the air, final and sharp, leaving no room for argument. He met her glare head-on, eyes narrowing.

“Max, we already know why. But Erica- you’re still a minor. I’m not gonna be the one to tell your mom I dragged you into hell. We need you both here, keeping tabs on the town. Let us know who comes looking around.” Desperation bled through the steel of his voice. “So stay with Max. For me- for my peace of mind… Please.”

Erica pressed her lips into a thin line, but stayed silent. Max leaned into Lucas, arms crossed tight, but gave a single, small nod. “Wayne.. If you could drive them home after Doc lets us know what’s going on?” Wayne nodded in acknowledgement as he messed with one of his guns.

“As for the rest of you… Erica, Max, you can have one too.” He turned the box around, resting it against his forearm but didn’t open it yet. “I can’t just let you run around waving a gun. I don’t care what arguments you’ve got- I’m not hearing it.” He flicked the latches, the lid creaking open to reveal a neat row of thick pocket knives sitting between velvet grooves. “But.. I’m not sending you in empty-handed either.”

The kids instinctively leaned forward. Dustin’s hand shot out first, eager, but Steve immediately slid the box a few inches back. His glare froze Dustin mid-motion. Steve took a deliberate step back.

“There are rules.” His tone left no room for debate. He scanned each of their faces- Mike, Lucas, Will, Dustin, Max, Eleven, Erica- his gaze cutting sharp through the group. “You keep it on you at all times. Except- and these are not negotiable-” he jabbed a finger toward them, “you do not draw it on each other. You do not bring it to school. And you do not treat it like a toy. You’re mostly adults now, not kids anymore. Not for this. I expect you to be responsible.”

He leveled each of them with a narrowed stare, letting the silence stretch until the weight of his words settled heavy in the air. His voice hardened, the low growl of a warning slipping through. “The second- the second- I hear you’re messing around with it, or pointing it at someone in this room, or you even think about flashing it at some bully, I will take it back. And I’ll make damn sure you regret it. Is that understood?”

Silence.

His jaw clenched. With a growl he barked louder, “IS. THAT. UNDERSTOOD?”

A chorus of uneasy replies followed- mumbled yeses, grumbled under their breath. Only Will’s quiet, “Yes, Steve,” cut through with clarity.

“Good.” He nodded once, the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly. “Now you can take one.”

He began handing them out slowly, making sure each person met his eyes before the knife left his hand. The weight of each blade felt heavy even to him, like passing over a piece of the life he’d been living in for years.

“I’m gonna teach you how to use it properly,” he continued, setting the box on the table, and grabbing one for himself before standing in front of them. “I’d rather give you wooden trainers first, but we don’t have that kind of time so-” he flipped the blade open and closed with a sharp click. “-if any of you little shits try to show off and flip it, I’ll take it away before you can blink.”

He held the knife up, arm straight, posture rigid as he turned it to show the grip. “Behave, and maybe- maybe- I’ll let Eddie show you his knife trick after. Now- watch carefully.”

He demonstrated how to open and close it safely, his movements sharp, exact, almost mechanical. “Thumb along the spine, not the side.”.. “You keep your grip tight, but not a death grip. You need flexibility.”.. “Control beats speed.” He stepped in front of each of them one by one, adjusting grips, nudging thumbs into place, correcting clumsy holds with patience but firm guidance. His voice was calm but clipped, like he’d said each of these instructions a thousand times before.

“Keep your wrist loose but controlled. Too stiff, you’ll lose speed. Too loose, you’ll lose the knife.” He shifted Dustin’s fingers into the right position, then moved to Mike, guiding his grip with the flat of his palm, nudging Lucas’s wrist until it matched his own. “Erica.. Not surprising at all, got it in one.”

Once he was confident they all had the hang of just opening and closing it, he flipped his own blade open again and held it against his chest. “Now listen close, because this is life or death. You stab to stop someone, you stab because you mean to kill someone. Not to look cool, not to scare them. To stop them. Which means you don’t waste energy. You aim for soft targets.”

He pointed the tip at the hollow of his neck. “Here.” He mimed slamming the palm of his hand down flat on the end of his grip. “Slamming it in ‘ll drop ‘em fast, and If someone's on you, you aim for those spots that stop ‘em fast. You save your life, not theirs.”

He motioned around his neck “Arteries are shallow. Quick in, quick out, unless you go too deep, they can get stuck sometimes. If that happens don’t force the knife out, leave it behind. Either way, you don’t stay close… And they’re often messy too. Trust me.. I know what I’m talking about.”

He rotated his arm, dragging the tip lightly over the inside of his own bicep. “Here. Under the arm. Weak spot.” He shifted lower, motioning at his inner thigh. “And here. If you can’t manage arteries, aim for tendons- knees, ankles, stab their hands even. You don’t have to kill them. You just need them down long enough to run.”

Mike swallowed hard, eyes flicking between the knife and Steve’s calm expression. Lucas’s jaw was set, determined. Eleven’s eyes stayed steady, unnervingly calm. “If they can’t move, they can’t fight. They can’t fight, they can’t come after you.” He looked over them, reading their faces- fear, determination, hesitation. His chest ached bringing them in on this, but he forced himself on.

“It sounds easy to stab someone in the eye. And yeah, it works. But if you do it wrong, if you miss? If you slip and hit the forehead instead, or they jerk back at the last second? Too much bone, doesn’t always go in and when it does.. It won’t go deep enough, not with a pocket knife. They might still get up. So if you’re aiming up here, you aim for the hollow, soft parts-” his blade tapped against the soft curve of his neck again “-not the skull.”

The knife folded back into his palm with a loud, final snap. He let it rest there for a beat, eyes darkening as he stood straighter, gaze hard as stone. “You don’t hesitate. You don’t warn them. You don’t wave it around. If they get close enough that you have to use this, don’t give them a chance, you go first every time. That's how you stay alive.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a long moment, no one moved. He let his eyes sweep over them again, chest tightening with the truth of it all. -God, they’re just kids. They shouldn’t have to know how to kill anymore. But.. But it’s better to be scared and ready than.. Than dead.-

He raised a single brow and one by one, the blades snapped shut, the sound echoing in the tense quiet. He watched each motion with a soldier’s focus, silently promising Eddie, -We’ll get you out, and those kids will all see you again. No matter what.-

---

It took a while, but eventually everyone headed down the hall to the bathrooms to change at Steve’s insistence. Doors clicked shut, water hissed briefly from the sinks, and the soft rustle of fabric and snaps of elastic filled his ears.

Steve used the downtime to pace, running through mental checklists he’d already gone over a dozen times. Each click of safety sliding on, on a gun, each muted thud of boots on tile, tightened the knot growing in his chest.

One by one they emerged. Hopper first, adjusting the strap of a tactical vest like it was an old uniform he’d never really left behind, a small line of grenades sitting carefully across his chest, two small guns on holsters under his arms, three strapped across his back, and knives sitting on his hips. He looked ready for war.

Joyce followed, sleeves rolled and jaw set, the weight of a shotgun and axe crisscrossing across her back making her look simultaneously out of place and absolutely right. Steve helped her adjust the sheathed knife to hide under the hem of her shirt.

Nancy’s eyes flames sharp and cold, a revolver already holstered at her hip, shotgun on her back, rifle over her shoulder. She had her knife strapped to her upper thigh. Jonathan walked out, face set, baseball bat resting heavy on his back. Steve adjusted the two handguns and knife to rest easily at his hips.

Robin looked fierce as she walked out, nerves gone, mouth scrunched up as she let Steve adjust the axe and crowbar to sit comfortably on her back, easily reachable. He also fixed the knife to her upper thigh.

Even Murray, muttering about “suicidal heroics,” looked grimly prepared. He walked out dressed in all black like everyone else, two combat knives strapped to each hip, and hand guns holstered under his arms.

Steve moved among them without pause. He tightened straps, adjusted holsters, checked the balance of knives and the way pistols rested against hips and shoulders. He made sure every weapon carried like an extension of the person holding it- no loose buckles, no awkward grips. His hands were quick and steady even as his stomach churned. This wasn’t about comfort; it was about survival.

For the kids, he crouched down, helping them properly lace up the heavy combat boots with flushed knots. He quietly taught Max and Erica how to do it themselves, just in case they needed them before they came back.

Lucas fumbled with the thick laces until Steve nudged him aside and finished the job with practiced efficiency. Dustin grinned nervously when Steve tugged his boots snug and gave a small approving nod. Eleven stood silently, eyes tracking his every move. When he reached her, Steve tried to soften his voice.

“You know,” he started as he tightened the final knot. “You look pretty wicked if I do say so.”

Her brow furrowed. “Wicked? Is that like.. Bitchin’?”

He shook his head, a crooked smile on his lips. “Yeah kid, like bitchin’. Just more.. Socially acceptable.”

“..Wicked.” She gave a firm nod, smiling now. “..I like it.”

When everyone was ready, he went back and sealed up the vault and led them down the hallways toward the kitchen. The echo of their boots on the concrete floor followed like a slow uneven drumbeat. Ahead, the heavy door to the kitchen clicks as Doc- watching the cameras- unlocked it from his office. Relief flicked across Steve’s face, one less obstacle.

Inside, the lights buzzed faintly, softer than the vault as they mimicked the sun outside. Steve moved fast, unable to stand still. He helped Wayne drag out extra tables and chairs so everyone had a place to sit, the scrape of metal legs against the floor sounding too loud in the tense silence.

Then he got to work, because doing was the only thing that kept the panic at bay. He raided the cupboards and refrigerators, throwing together snacks with quick, stiff movements. Cracks, sliced fruits, a mountain of sandwiches no one seemed ready to eat. He brewed pot after pot of coffee, the bitter smell filling the air.

For himself, he set a small pot of blood to boil- dark, metallic, faintly sweet. He drank it almost as soon as it bubbled, the liquid searing his throat as it went down. He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling the burn fade into the sharp, almost electric sensation of his body healing itself. The warmth steadied him, just barely.

Four and a half very tense hours crawled by. No one truly relaxed.

Hopper occasionally paced like a caged bear. Joyce sat stiff backed, fingers lacing and unlacing around a coffee cup. Nancy cleaned and reassembled her handgun three times. Dustin whispered theories with Mike and Lucas in a corner. Eleven stared at the wall, unreadable.

The kids each used the kitchen phone at Wayne’s insistence, letting their parents know that something was going on again. That Steve needed them. That they’d tell them what they could when they got back, Hopper spoke to most of them. Wayne took the phone from Lucas, promising Erica would be home before it got late, getting approval for Max to stay there for a few days, at least.

And Steve, he cleaned. Over and over, wiping the counters until they sparkled. Cleaning the cabinets, handles, the fridge. Over and over and over. By the third pass, the smell of disinfectant overpowered the coffee. By the fifth, his nose burned.

Finally, finally, as it was creeping toward the five hour mark he could hear familiar footsteps coming down the hall. Doc stepped into the kitchen, clipboard in hand, his usual calm face drawn tight. Every conversation stilled.

“Steve.” Doc said gently, setting the clipboard down, “sit down. The kitchen is spotless.”

Steve straightened, rag in hand, but didn’t move until Doc’s eyes narrowed in quiet insistence. Reluctantly, he set the rag aside and moved to the table, dropping into his usual chair. Doc took his time pouring a cup of coffee, the small, mundane motion oddly unsettling. Only after a slow sip did he speak.

“I managed to get in contact with a few trusted individuals.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. Steve, who hadn’t taken another breath since the vault, pressed his lips into a hard line.

“Eddie was indeed taken back to the lab.” Doc continued, his voice coming careful as he walked to take a heavy seat at the main table. Steve caught the subtle twitch of his jaw, the slight flare of his nostrils. -Nervous? Maybe scared?.. Doc doesn’t scare easily.- He tilted his head, eyes narrowing at the man.

“Unfortunately,” Doc went on, “I don’t yet have a way inside. But.. I do have old associates willing to assist us. As for Eddie’s current condition…” He hesitated, the pause sharp as a knife. “They’re not being as-” his eyes squinted in quiet anger. “-understanding with him this time around. They flew him in and.. Well.. It’s not a good story.”

Steve’s head lowered, not wanting to scare the man as a low growl rumbled deep in his chest. His nostrils flared as his claws just barely slipped free, pressing faintly against the fabric of his sleeves. “I don’t need you to have a way inside,” he started, voice rough but calm. “Eddie and I planned for this.. I can do it. I’m not saying that to be cocky. I mean it.. I can get in.”

“That’s good to know.” Doc said simply, unaffected by Steve’s reaction. “I have managed to secure us a temporary setup near the lab. Far enough away to avoid suspicion, close enough for a quick getaway if needed.”

“What about guard rotations? Patrols? What type of security are we looking at?” Hopper’s gruff voice cut through, every word lined with controlled fury.

“That’s what I was getting to.” Doc replied, glancing at his notes. “They’ve ramped up security, no expense spared, they’re not taking risks. I’ve managed to gain access to rotation schedules, but we’ll need to assume they’re inconsistent. There are also now men stationed on the roof, two new security towers outside, and multiple patrol groups sweeping the forest constantly- the same one Steve previously escaped into.

“So we’ve got no chance?” Mike blurred, slumping back in his chair as everyone looked at him. “What? I’m just being realistic.”

“Again,” Doc said evenly, “I’ve already said we do have sched-”

“The guys in the forest won’t be a problem.” Steve interrupted. Head turned toward him as he sat up, leaning forward, fingers steepled, eyes sharp as he stared at Doc’s coffee mug. “Outside’s easier for me. I can use the trees, smell them from miles away if the wind’s right, and I can hear them before they even know we’re there. It’s how we avoided the soldiers and demogorgons on the way to Wayne’s house.”

“Except for last time.” Mike muttered.

Steve’s head snapped toward him so fast the air seemed to crack. The low, guttural growl that involuntarily slipped out made Mike flinch back in his seat.

“What?!” Mike stammered. “I’m just being honest!”

“Ah. About that,” Doc interjected quickly. He reached into his coat and produced a small plastic baggie. Inside, the twisted remains of bullets glinted dully under the lights- the same ones Hopper dug out of Steve’s back.

“I’ve analyzed these while waiting for responses.” Doc kept his voice steady. “And I believe I know exactly what happened.” He took another slow sip of coffee, then continued. “Steve informed me of the story of One and his imprisonment in the lab. Inside these bullets was a device- something akin to what they used to suppress One’s powers. These were engineered for the purpose of-”

“To take out Steve or Eleven.” Hopper growled, pissed.

“Yes and no.” Doc replied, keeping calm. “Yes, something similar could neutralize Eleven’s powers. But these-” He held up the baggie, the metal fragments rattling faintly. “-were different, designed especially to target Steve. They were coated in a thin sealant mixed with the same compound inside the tip. It’s why they exploded once inside him, they were designed to release their payload.”

“Which was?” Wayne prompted, voice low, nostrils flaring. He wasn’t angry at Doc, but at the fact Steve had been a target.

“Steve’s blood.” Doc stated plainly. “The bullets were packed and sealed with Steve’s blood.”

The room went still. Even the ever present hum of the lights seemed to fade.

Doc continued, “I was able to test them on a sample Steve provided me after his last training accident. The blood coated rounds appear to trick his body- his cells recognized the intrusion as familiar, slowing his natural defenses. That’s why both his powers and healing failed. The internal device triggered the suppression while the blood coating masked it.”

“But… How did they even get his blood?” Dustin’s voice was small, worried. “He hadn’t been there in months.”

“They still have samples.” Steve admitted, eyes widening as his eyes flickered back and forth, like he was seeing something no one else could. “They took so many. They… They still have a supply.” He looked terrified for a second before forcing his face to fall blank.

“So.. So they can make more.” Will whispered, dread thick in his voice. “Bullets that stop you. Maybe even stop El.”

Doc nodded grimly. “Sadly, it seems so. Though this is just my best hypothesis based on the tests I could run in a short amount of time. The only absolute is that the internal device is what caused his powers to fail.”

Suddenly, Steve sat up straighter, nostrils flaring as his gaze locked on the bag still in Doc’s hand. “They won’t get a second chance.” He growled, claws now fully out, a stark contrast against his black sleeves. He looked directly as Doc now, eyes burning. “How are we getting there?”

Doc exhaled, putting the baggie back into his pocket. “I called in a favor. It’s a long journey to where we need to be- far enough out that the lab won't find us, but close enough to move quickly. My friend- the one who handles maintenance down here- she’s sending a bus. We’ll be using her safe house as our base.”

Steve leaned back, foot tapping repeatedly against the floor. His jaw twitched as forced the rising fury down, the promise of blood in his veins humming like static. -I’ll rip them apart. I’ll shred them to pieces. I’ll kill every last one who touched him.-

He licked sharply over his teeth, forcing the thoughts back. -Calm down… Calm down. Stay focused. Eddie. Think of Eddie.-

Across the table, Wayne’s eyes met his- fierce with something heavier behind them. Steve held the look, let it anchor him to the here and now.

“As soon as it arrives we load up and go.” He growled, pushing up from the table, chair scraping harshly against the floor. He didn’t wait for arguments or questions. “Wayne, take Erica and Max home. I’ll be down the hall. If she arrives before I’m back, come get me.”

And with that he turned on his heels, boots hammering against concrete as he marched away. Each step echoed down the corridor, sharp and final, like the beat of a drum. The others didn’t follow. They couldn’t. The fire rippling under his skin warned them off- untouchable, unstable, feral.

Steve could feel it. That heat. The pressure. The fire prickling at his fingertips, crawling up his arms, even though his entire body felt so very cold, it was almost painful. His claws wanted out too, his fangs itched to drop, his body demanding release while his mind scrambled to hold it back.

Steve knew what he had to do. No clue how he’d manage it. But it didn’t matter. He’d figure it out because there was no other choice.

His feet carried him down the hall and to an all too familiar door. He stood in front of it, staring, willing himself to go in. Eddie’s room. No… Their room.

He stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides, chest tightening like a vine. His throat worked around a lump that refused to go down. Slowly, with trembling fingers, he punched in the override code. The lock clicked, the handle turned, and the door swung open.

Walking in was.. Chaos. Eddie’s kind of chaos.

A copy of The Two Towers sat open on the desk, a quarter of the way finished, the bookmark crooked like Eddie had tossed it carelessly. -He had.. We wound up making out after the third chapter.- Doc's gifted guitar leaned against the bed, the pick still tucked into the strings as if Eddie planned to play again in a few minutes. Wayne’s favorite flannel- Steve had been practically living in it when they were alone- was draped over the chair. His favorite yellow sweater crumpled on the floor, half kicked under the bed.

It was their lives blended together. Clothes, books, memories, all tangled together into the space.

He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, swallowing down the noise clawing up his throat. A whine. A sob. He wouldn’t let them out. He couldn’t break down yet.

He curled his fingers slowly, before relaxing them, forcing his claws back with effort. His body trembled as they slid away. Only then did he reach out, fingers brushing over the edge of Eddie’s favorite Metallica shirt. He lifted it, clutched it to his chest like it could hold him together. -Please be okay.-

Steve knew what he had to do. He just didn’t know if he could.

But he had to try.

He picked up a pair of Eddie's discarded sweats, holding them close. Then he started pulling out clothes- sweatshirts, t-shirts, jackets- anything Eddie had worn, anything that Eddie had touched. His arms filled, clothes spilling against his chest as he carried them to the bed. He dropped them, arranged them, rearranged them, pulled more, adjusted again. He made a nest. It was stupid. It was desperate. But it was something.

When it was finally right- or close enough- he climbed onto the bed without bothering to remove his boots. He curled down into the middle, surrounded on all sides by Eddie. Feeling all too small, too lost without him.

Slowly, Steve let himself breathe again. A quiet, deep inhale through his nose.

It almost broke him.

Eddie. His achingly familiar scent, his leather jacket, the smell of the conditioner Steve mentioned only once that he loved. It wrapped around him, seeped into him, stabbed him in the chest so deep he thought his ribs might split open. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the whine finally tore itself free, raw and broken, echoing in the quiet room. Eddie. The room. The clothes. The bed. The air. It all smelt, tasted like Eddie.

He wanted to cry. To scream. To bed the world to, please just give Eddie back. But he couldn’t. He needed to do this. -Focus. Focus on.. On finding him.-

He lifted the Metallica shirt, still clutched in his hand, pressing it to his nose, breathing in until it burned. -Focus on Eddie.- He had no idea what he was doing, just that he needed to do it.

His palm lifted, just slightly. And somewhere in the background the radio clicked on, static crackling before Eddie’s self recorded demo tape started to play. Corroded Coffin’s jagged riffs filling the room, Eddie’s solo cutting sharp. Steve let it wash over him, let it anchor him as he pressed his cheek into Eddie’s pillow, breathing deep until he was drowning in it.

He sank. Slowly, steadily, like slipping under water surrounded by home. His senses stretched, warped, bent. He heard the echo of heartbeats down the hall. His family. Felt the vibrations of the guitar in his bones. Tasted Eddie’s scent thick on his tongue. He could smell the man he loved.

-C’mon. Please. This had to work. I need this to work… Please.-

He sank some more. Deeper now. Far away from all that and more. -Eddie.- His thoughts whispered, repeated, over and over. -Eddie.-

If someone were to ask him how he did it. He’d have no idea, he has no idea. One second he’s lying back, eyes closed, letting everything wash over him, through him. The next he’s.. Here.

Steve blinked. He wasn't lying down anymore, but standing. The world around him nothing but darkness. A sea of inky black, pulsing and ripping, wiggling all around him like liquid shadows.

Steve.

A voice whispered, echoing, beckoning him forward.

Steve.

He doesn’t think he actually moved.

Steve.

But one second he was walking through the dark.

Steve.

And then- light. Shapes rippling, colors bending, pulsing, flowing, until they solidified.

Leaving him standing in an all too familiar hallway.

His chest seized as he sucked in a sharp breath. The hall stretched before him, sterile and bright fluorescents, walls he knew better than his own reflection. Saw them late at night when he closed his eyes, they haunted his nightmares and waking hours just the same. The boring cracked grey he’d recognize anywhere.

The lab.

He looked down at his hand, turned them over, watched as his claws extended and retracted, stomach lurching. Was this real? Was he dreaming? Was he back?

-Eddie.- He thought quietly. -I need to.. To find Eddie.-

Steve ran.

He sprinted down corridor after corridor, familiar corner after familiar corner, counting turns, stepping from memory. He remembers how to get back to his room, the showers, the stairs. But everywhere he looked there was no Eddie. The exam room. Empty. The room where he’d rescued him before, where he snapped those disgusting chains. Empty. The gym that was never a gym. Empty.

He took the stairs two at a time, slamming through the door like it was water. But floor after floor, stairwell after stairwell. No Eddie. Not even a lingering scent of Eddie. Nothing. Barren. Not even a single guard- but he ignored that fact.

His chest tightened, squeezed. His throat burned. He was going to lose him.

He was starting to give up when he heard it. A voice. Muffled, distorted, too far away to understand. “-ve…de…nt…th…”

He followed it, bursting onto a floor he didn’t recognize, running through an unfamiliar hallway, rounding a corner he thought the voice was coming from.

Steve didn’t hesitate when he heard the heartbeat inside. He slammed it open-

And froze.

Not Eddie. Not guards.

In front of him wasn’t even a lab tech or janitor. It was Martin fucking Brenner.

Steve’s vision went red.

The man sat with an unfamiliar scientist, flipping through a file. His voice was calm, clinical, as though he wasn’t discussing torture or someones imprisonment. “I want him moved to sublevel twenty-three immediately. And have your team start preparations, I anticipate things going rather well and I’d like Munson secured for it. No reason to lose more staff.”

Eddie. They were moving Eddie.

The scientist leaned back in his chair. “And Harrington?”

Brenner’s lips curved into a cruel smile. “Ah. I’ve hired quite the team to retrieve our missing asset. Worry not, he’ll be back with us soon.”

Steve’s claws dug into his palms, fury flooding his veins. Could he trust this? Was it real? Whatever it was he couldn’t stay, couldn’t listen any longer. He bolted, tearing back down the hall, the stairwell, desperate to find Eddie before they move him.

But floor after floor, no scent, no sound. Nothing.

It seemed like he’d spent hours running through unknown floors. And still, nothing. -I have to find him.. I have to.-

He was about to push through another door when something clamped onto his shoulder. Hard.

He snarked, trying to shake it off, but the grip only tightened. “Steve?”

That voice.. It was.. Familiar?

He tried to fight back, to do something. Tried taking a step forward, desperate to push on, to find him. But the grip only tightened. “Steve?” The voice was firmer now. Closer.

-Eddie!- He tried to move again, struggling just to take another step. The grip was near painful. -Eddie I need to find Eddie!-

“STEVE!”

The world shattered.

He gasped, eyes flying open, chest heaving. The room swam back into focus as he blinked black spots from his vision. Wayne’s face hovered in front of him, pale and worried, hand clamped on his shoulder. Behind him, the others crowded in, wide-eyed and worried.

“Steve?” Wayne whispered his name, voice shaking.

Steve blinked, winkling his nose, Wayne smelt scared, he hated it. “I..” He struggled to focus, throat working, it felt bone dry. He slowly looked around, at Doc standing at the end of his bed. At Dustin, struggling to get closer. At Hopper’s worried eyes. Everyone was watching him.

“I saw Brenner.” He rasps, but the words cracked through the silence like thunder.

He looked up at Wayne, terrified, childlike, clinging to the one steady thing he had left. “It wasn’t.. Wasn’t a dream. Or a nightmare. I was.. I was there. I was, I was there. One second I was just kind of floating and the next I was.. I was in the lab.”

His gaze slid to Eleven, almost desperate. “Is that.. Is that what it’s like? When you..?”

She nodded once, solemn, her eyes soft. “Yes… You were.. Trying to find Eddie?”

He swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “Yeah.. I uh. I didn’t. Not yet. But.. But I saw the lab.”

She made a soft humming sound. “I could not see it when I looked for you.”

“Oh..” He answered, then slowly, he turned to Doc, voice coming stronger than a moment ago. “I know what floor they’re moving him to.”

Doc’s nostrils flared, his jaw twitching. He gave a single, firm nod. “Good. Because it’s time to go.”

Notes:

I know I've been hating on Mike here, I need to state I do not hate Mike. But Steve is just very annoyed with him right now.

 

Also, prepare yourselves for what's to come. :)

Chapter 42: What's the- I'm Crazy For You

Summary:

Steve starts to spiral.
Steve loses his mind.
Steve's desperate.

Notes:

Warning: Descriptive violence.

Turns out, the ‘bus’ was more, custom RV. And it moved like no RV had any right to. No rattling windows, no groaning shocks, no stuttering floorboards. It glided, quiet as a whisper, the hum of its engine so low it felt more like the pulse of some sleeping animal than machine chewing up miles of asphalt.

Inside, it was unnervingly perfect.

Not rows of seats, not cramped aisles. This was.. A house. A fortress on wheels. One wall held screens scrolling data too fast to understand. A small, fully stocked kitchen gleamed in stainless steel, and a full-sized bathroom was tucked behind a sliding door. A lounge area boasted couches that folded flat at the press of a button. Sleeping pods recessed into the walls like honeycomb, each with its own glowing control panel. And a central table flickered with holographic blueprints- lab schematics, guard rotations, digital maps that adjusted in real time.

The air was cool, circulating through vents so finely tuned there wasn’t a hint of draft from outside. The lighting even adjusted seamlessly with the road, dimming when they passed beneath clusters of trees, brightening when the highway stretched wide and open. Panels in the ceiling emitted a soft glow, artificial yet warm enough to mimic daylight, but it all felt wrong to Steve; it made his skin crawl.

Every surface had been thought out: matte metal where there should be no glare, soft touch composites where hands needed purchase, vents that breathed without hissing.

And then there was the television, mounted into the wall just above the driver's area.

Not massive or ostentatious like the wall-sized monstrosities Steve had seen at some of his parents’ pretentious dinner parties- but large enough, sleek, set into the paneling like it had grown there. When it was off, it looked like polished black glass. When it was on, the resolution was too sharp, the colors too real, almost painful to look at. Maps flickered across it now, lines and grids shifting as Doc tapped through menus from his seat at the central console, talking over blueprints with Wayne, Hopper, and Murray in hushed, urgent tones.

-This place reeks of… Wrong. Not like Eddie. Not like the van. Sterile, like bleach, like metal. Like the lab. No.. No, don’t think about that. Don’t.. Go there. Don’t think about white coats and chains. Don’t think about Eddie, strapped down, screaming for me.-

Steve sat awkwardly in one of the low, cushioned chairs, angled away from it all. The chair seemed designed to cradle rather than just hold a person. He hated it. The way it adjusted automatically when he shifted, molding to his body, it made his skin crawl. He kept forcing himself with each shift to sit stiffly, shoulders tight, so the chair wouldn’t get the satisfaction of “learning” him.

His jaw throbbed from clenching so hard. His knee bounced, a restless tic he couldn’t stop. Every so often, his fingers tapped against his thigh, claws threatening to tear through skin, itching to tear something- anything- apart.

-Too damn quiet. Can’t even hear the wheels, the road. Feels like floating. Feels like that room. Grey walls, hum of machines, not a sound out of place. Same air. Same fake light. Same fucking nothing. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t-…..-

Wayne was leaning over Doc’s chair, pointing at one of the screens above the console, Hopper at his side, Murray propped against the table. Their voices were low, clipped, all business. Occasionally, from the driver’s seat, a woman’s voice cut in, tossing out comments about entry points and formations. She was Doc’s ‘friend’ who had been all too polite for the rudely barked, “hello” he'd given her before shoving his way inside.

-They’re moving him. Deeper underground. I can still hear Brenner’s voice, that smug fucking face. Eddie’s-fuck! Why didn’t I grab him? Why didn’t I pull him down with me?! Why the fuck am I here instead of out there! Ripping through those walls until I find him!-

Robin sat cross-legged on the couch opposite him, chewing her thumb raw. Dustin had originally tried to poke every button he could see until Hopper yanked him back. Now, he was sprawled beside her, leaning forward with wide eyes locked on the screen, tracking the shifting maps as though memorizing every contour would bring Eddie back faster.

Lucas sat at the little table nearby, chewing his lip and pretending to read a report he clearly didn’t understand. Will was tucked silently in the corner, eyes fixed on Steve like he was afraid to blink, just in case he disappeared. Mike and Eleven had tried to talk to him earlier, so had Joyce, but Steve hadn’t uttered a word, hadn’t even looked at them.

Not then. Not now. He wasn’t listening to the conversations swirling around him, didn’t care about the plans, the strategies, the others’ worried glances. He could care less what the others got into or where they went.

He dragged his eyes to the window, staring at the blur of trees rushing past. Not fast enough. Never fast enough. -Eddie’s down there. He’s hurting. They’re moving him, hiding him. I could.. I could hear him if I just.. Tried harder. If I dig deep enough… If I..- He squeezed his eyes shut, grip tightening on the armrest until it groaned. -I should be out there. Running. Ripping through trees, tearing through walls, not sitting here like some.. Some pathetic, caged animal waiting for slaughter.-

“Steve?” Robin’s voice, soft, testing.

His head whipped toward her, eyes narrowing. Too fast. Too sharp. She flinched back before forcing herself still, it made something ugly twist deep in his gut- self-loathing mixed with frustration.

“I’m fine,” he lied through clenched teeth, trying not to growl. He wasn’t fine. Hadn’t been since Eddie had been ripped away, since he woke up on those jagged rocks. Steve doubted he’d ever be ‘fine’ again, not at least until Eddie was back, safe, in his arms.

She hesitated, then shook her head slowly, disbelief written all over. “Okay.”

-Don’t scare her. Don’t.. Don’t scare them. Keep it in. Keep it locked down. I can’t.. I can’t afford to break. Not yet. Not now. Not until I’ve got him. But it’s slipping, isn’t it? Slipping through my damn fingers. I can feel it- me- cracking.- The RV hummed, lights shifting with the passing trees, subtle vibrations rippling underfoot. Somewhere in the walls, vents released a faint sterile scent- air filters cycling endlessly. It made his throat itch. Made his fangs ache to tear into something living just to drown out the artificial nothingness.

Steve forced his legs still, tried to breathe through gritted teeth, slow and even. It didn’t work. The silence bore down like a physical weight, crushing, making the floor beneath him pulse like a heartbeat- wrong, mechanical, alien.

He shoved himself up and out of the chair, the need to move overwhelming. Pacing the lounge, his boots struck the polished floor with harsh slaps, too loud in the cramped space. He hated how spotless it was- like no one had ever used it before, and like no one else ever would. No scuff marks, no coffee stains, no traces of life. Just reflective surfaces throwing back warped images of the people around them, distorting their faces into grotesque parodies of concern.

-This place is wrong. It’s a goddamn lie, like we’re on some twisted vacation. Feels too much like the lab. Like Brenner’s smug fucking smirk. Eddie in chains, bleeding. Eddie’s eyes, wide and wild, desperate, searching for me. I should be out there. I should have… He should be here. Should be his boots kicked up on the table, his music blasting, his hand tugging me down before I… Before I lose it.. Completely. Should be him. Not this.. This cold nothing.-

“Sit down before you wear a hole in the floor,” Hopper grunted, not looking up from the map Doc was pointing at.

His lips peeled back in a snarl before he could stop himself. Hopper’s eyes flicked up, sharp but unfazed, he didn’t back down.

“I said I’m fine.” He growled, voice raw. He turned away before anyone could push further, all but slamming his forehead against the cool metal wall in front of him, eyes squeezing shut.

It didn’t help.

Eddie’s voice whispered in the static that was his thoughts, like a ghost haunting him. Eddie’s laugh echoed from some buried memory. The faint scent of cheap shampoo, the warmth of his body pressed close, the scratch of rings against his hips. Every piece of Eddie burned in Steve’s chest, a wildfire threatening to split him right open.

He suddenly slammed a fist against the wall, pulling the blow at the last second. Even so, the metal rang out in the quiet like a gunshot, the echo reverberating through the RV. Everyone flinched, the vehicle trembling but holding firm, unnaturally solid, not even a dent. It pissed. Him. Off.

“Steve,” Doc said, measured, cautious, not looking up from his notes. “Breathe.”

He stared at the back of Doc’s head, eyes narrowing to slits as he sucked in air through clenched teeth, the sound sharp and angry, loud enough to draw attention. His hands trembled, claws sliding out unbidden, tips scraping against steel until faint sparks danced down. He flexed them, shuddering with effort that made his vision swim, forcing them to retract.

“I. Am. Breathing.” He spat, the words more growl than speech.

A heavy silence followed. No one dared to push him further. They all felt it too- the edges inside him fraying, the fire licking higher, the storm ready to break free.

He stared out the window, jaw clenched so tight his teeth hurt.

The road stretched on, endlessly, smooth as silk in their steel box, and all Steve could feel was the jagged blade within him sharpening with every passing mile. -Hold on, Eds. Just hold on. I’ll rip through steel, through stone, through every bastard who lays a hand on you. I’ll shred the world to pieces if I have to. Just don’t leave me. Please.-

Time tickled on. The RV glided like it existed in some other universe, fluid and near-silent as it wove through traffic.

Doc still sat at the cluster of screens, fingers dancing over keys with a practiced calm. Hopper stood behind him now, a hulking shadow in the aisle, arms crossed, eyes scanning over a rotating map on a screen that tracked who-knows-what in tight confident sweeps. Wayne sat beside Doc now, occasionally gesturing at a blueprint on one of the displays, offering gruff input.

Robin, Dustin, and Jonathan now clustered on the couch behind Steve, whispering back and forth in that hushed, desperate way people do to dull the sharp edges of fear. He couldn’t really be bothered to pay attention to what they were saying.

Lucas and Mike sat at the table, tossing out wild theories about the safe house, each one more absurd than the last. Will sat at the corner of the table, staring out the window, fists clenched on his thighs. The rest of the group scattered throughout the space, busying themselves with meaningless tasks to avoid acknowledging the ticking bomb that was Steve.

Steve didn’t want to look at any of them. He sat half-turned away from the room, one knee propped on the seat, eyes locked on the blur of green outside the too-perfect window. The chair adjusted again- lumbar support shifting, heat seeping in, synthetics pressing where they assumed he needed pressure- all of it just made his skin crawl. He hated being read like that, hated the machine presuming to understand the shape of his agony. Hated that it was learning the shape of his pain.

His breath came too fast, heart pounding like a warm drum in his chest. He forced his hands to keep flat on his thighs, fingers twitching, occasionally curling so his nails bit into his legs. He could feel the familiar itch again- the familiar pulsing ache of his fangs desperate to drop- a sick, steady rhythm throbbing in his gums. He kept them retracted through sheer will, for Wayne’s sack, for Hopper’s inevitable look, because he had to cling to the illusion of control, not let the wild animal he knew to be inside tear free.

-Too quiet. Too clean. Too much movement, but never where it counts.- Steve couldn’t prevent his thoughts from turning sharp any longer. -They have him, don’t they? Got him in pieces. Needles in his skin. Cutting him down, making him small… I could smell him through a thousand walls. I’ll find you, Eds. I’ll rip everything apart to get to you. Just hold on. Don’t break before I get there. Don’t.. Fuck, don’t die on me… Please.-

A sound flared- soft, impossible to ignore. A scrape like a pick dragging across metal, just a single pluck of a guitar. Steve stopped breathing without meaning to. His chest seized at the sound. The note- if it could even be considered that- faded as quickly as it came.

Then it was there again like it had never left, woven into the rustle of recycled air, in the faint hiss of the radio. He pictured Eddie’s fingers, deft and calloused, curling around strings with that effortless grace. For a second, the world collapsed into that sound.

“Stevie?” The voice whispered in his ear. It wasn’t Robin’s or Wayne’s, wasn’t anyone in the RV. It was a low, teasing whisper, he’d heard plenty of times before, the way Eddie used to breathe his name in the dark, intimate and raw. His throat squeezed.

He gripped the armrest until the metal complained. “Just… Stay,” he rasped, voice breaking, reaching for someone who wasn’t there. The chair’s sensors hummed and flexed in the tiny way they were designed to in a futile attempt to soothe. The RV kept gliding like it was nothing.

On the front screen, the black glass shifted to display a map- small, colored squares showing perimeter teams and patrol routes. Doc leaned close to Hopper, murmuring numbers that Steve didn’t care to understand. They could have been routes, times, windows for all he knows. His attention snapped to the screen and away again, like a dog catching an echo.

He stood up and started pacing around again, slower this time, boots thumping with a dull rhythm that he felt up to his teeth. The movement did nothing to ease the restlessness itching at his skin, only mirroring the torment of knowing Eddie was alone, terrified, might even be broken already. It hardly kept him from folding under the weight of it all.

He could see it- the lab’s cold unnatural glare bleaching Eddie’s face, could practically smell the hair curling chemicals and disinfectants clinging to him, imagined the hum of machines that dictated his every thought. -Move, damn it! Do something! Do anything! Don’t just sit here. Don’t breathe like it’s okay. Don’t let them think I can survive without him. I can’t. I won’t.-

A fractured laugh- harsh, brittle- slipped out, slicing through the still air. Robin looked up, worry carving lines into her face. Dustin’s fingers drummed on his knee, a forced smile plastered on as if bravery could be faked. Hopper was watching him warily; Wayne’s tired eyes met his across the room, a tenuous anchor, the only thing keeping him from fully unraveling right now.

Wayne’s presence grounded him, if only for a fleeting second, slowing the chaos in his mind just enough to breathe. Steve craved a hug, but feared it would shatter him to ask.

The RV’s interior reflected a thousand little echoes; chrome and matte finishes, windows glass catching fleeting light, showing ruined silhouettes for a second before the scenery drowned swallowed them, dozens of screens scrolling through maps, comfort without personalized touches. It all felt hollow, soulless, empty. A void.

For minutes- or was it hours?- Steve swore he saw movement in the window's reflection. A flash of dark hair, a smirk, a laugh echoing from nowhere. He’d jerk his head, and nothing would be there, no one would be there. The air would carry a whiff of cheap cologne- the kind Eddie bitched about but wore anyway, the scent he’d grumble over but never throw away. Steve’s hand twitched to reach for a shoulder he knew wouldn’t be there.

“Eddie,” he breathed to no one, the name raw, obscene in its longing. Time slipped through his fingers that way. He’d blink and one second they’d be stopping for gas; the next, they’d be surrounded by woods; then, suddenly, cars would be surrounding them on a highway surrounded by farms.

The sun had fully set and rose without his notice, Steve back in the chair that made his skin crawl. He heard the others shifting around, finding bunks and couches to collapse on. Doc swapped to the driver's seat twice, maybe more, he didn’t really pay attention. How long have they been on the road? How long has Eddie been in that hell?.. How long has he been alone?

-I’m losing it. Hours, days- I don’t know. Did I sleep? Did I eat? Doesn’t matter. Eddie’s there, he’s waiting for me, bleeding, screaming. I see him every time I close my eyes. Hear him in every hum. He’s calling me, isn’t he? Or is it me, begging him to come back? Fuck, I don’t know… It feels like before. I need… I need someone to tell me what’s real.. I need Eddie.-

Eventually, Doc passed by, shouldering a comms pack, sparing Steve a glance as he stood again, staring blankly out the window. Doc’s eyes were sympathetic, but he didn’t address him directly. To the group, his tone was steady. “We’re about an hour from the safe house. So far there’s been no new movement within the labs perimeter. So far they’re sticking to the rotations schedule, so I’m anticipating that’ll hold. Which means…”

Doc paused, adjusting his pack. “Tonight, we stay at the safe house, finalize plans, share ideas, everything and anything we might need. Tomorrow, if the schedule holds, there will be a sixty-minute window where the northern access is least monitored. That’s when we’ll make a move.”

Steve heard the words like a twisted vow, each word a blade sinking deeper and deeper. Sixty minutes. It should have been a relief, a lifeline. Instead, it was just another countdown, another edge to fall off, threading impossible hope that if he moved fast enough he could pull Eddie back from the edge.

He tried to swallow the hallucinations, to choke them down. He failed.

The hum of the water filter by the sink twisted into a rhythm- three stuttered beats, a tiny broken pattern- and with it a voice that wasn’t quite there: “Stevie-boy.” Eddie’s laugh, faint as a dying spark, and the scent- wood, sweat, the sweet scent of distant flowers- swept through like a breath of fresh air. For a second, just a second, Steve thought it was real. His hand flew to his mouth to stifle a sound that wasn’t exactly a sob but it wasn’t a laugh either.

“You good, son?” Wayne’s hand on his shoulder startled him back to the present.

Blinking rapidly, Steve let out a breathy, ragged laugh. “Yeah.” The word felt like lead. -Stop seeing him. Stop hearing him. It isn’t real, damn it. He’s not here. You can still hold it together. You have to fix this. Don’t crumble, Harrington. Not yet. You can’t afford to be soft right now.-

He sank back into the seat again, trying to hold himself together with the hard, mechanical discipline he’d carved out of survival. He started counting- breaths, the number of flickering lights, the tick of whoever’s watch he could hear- anything to keep the illusions from swallowing the room. But the edges of his vision blurred, time slipped again, and a ghost of Eddie lingered, whispering from every shadow. -I’m coming, Eds. I swear. Even if I lose myself, I’ll find you. Even if I don’t know who I am anymore, I’ll get you back.-

He blinked slowly, watching the RV’s consoles flick through routes and sensor readouts. The system offered no solace: numbers are cold, hard, real. They don’t lie. They showed their ETA, how many miles from the safehouse to the lab, but most importantly, they anchored him to reality, proving he wasn’t trapped in some fevered dream. He stared until those numbers burned into his eyes, until he’d blink and still see them.

But the ghosts kept coming back. A shadow on the back of the couch like a draped jacket. A faint scrape against the paneling, like a thumb lazily tapping switches- Eddie’s thumb, always drumming some rhythm, nervous or bored depending on the hour.

Once, when the RV went over a shallow dip in the road, the overhead dimmers clicked in sympathy and for one blinding, sharp second the lights painted a strip of gold across the ceiling- like the stage lights that had illuminated Eddie as he spun a guitar solo in one of their fleeting, shared dreams, a memory so vivid it hurt.

Steve clenched his jaw until the coppery tang of blood bloomed in his mouth, a wild, feral urge to laugh clawing at his chest, terrifying in its intensity.

“Hey,” Robin’s voice came softly from across the room. “He’d want us to stack to the plan, right?”

The question was supposed to offer comfort, but it landed more like a slap. He whipped around, teeth bared in an animalistic snarl, though the growl died in his throat before it could escape. -Don’t snap at her. Not Robin. She doesn’t deserve it.- His breath came in short, ragged bursts. He forced his lips to form a silent apology before muttering, “Yeah… Right. -Sure, because Eddie’s such a stickler for plans. Upside Down proved that, didn’t it? Always running headfirst into… Don’t..-

The flickering screens counted down the miles. Doc tapped a waypoint and their maps adjusted like a living thing, adapting in real time. Every mile was a promise and a threat. Steve’s mind tettered between cold, calculated planning- routes, entry points, contingencies- and the shattered, desperate fragments that clawed for dominance: Eddie’s low chuckle over a dumb joke, Eddie clumsily making coffee, Eddie’s hand caressing the neck of his guitar, Eddie’s mouth pressed to his in an old private sun-tinted memory.

He ripped those fantasies like bandages, angry with himself for wanting them. Steve was furious- at the lab, at Brenner, at the bastards who ripped Eddie from the quarry, at this polished RV with its plush seats that made him feel like he was on his way to a funeral, faking composure while his world crumbled. Rage summered beneath his carefully controlled breaths, itching in his fingers, driving his nails into his palms until they carved bloody crescents.

-If they’ve touched him, I’ll make them scream. If they’ve broken him, made him small, I’ll rip out their tongues, rip out their eyes for even looking at him! I’ll… Fuck, breathe, Steve. Plan. Don’t lose it now. You’re the only one who can piece him back together. Don’t fail him. Don’t fail.-

He absently flexed his fingers, feeling the phantom ache of claws beneath skin. For a breath moment, he let them slide out- sharp tips clicking against the leather seat- before forcing them back, aware of the eyes on him in the dim cab. Wayne’s hand was suddenly there, on his shoulder, steady and warm as he settled into the seat beside him.

Seeing Wayne so still, so quiet, so weighed down by worry, softened something in him, if only for a moment. He gripped the armrest until the cream of his knuckles became a rhythm he could cling to, a lifeline.

“Doc?” Hopper’s voice cut through from somewhere behind him, low but deafening, practically screaming, to his heightened senses. “If the lab’s switched to those sealed rounds for Steve, what else have they got?”

His head nearly snapped up, the question shooting through him. He hadn’t considered it -what new hell could Eddie be enduring? What could they- Doc’s response came, clinical, almost cold, as if he’d been expecting it. “Assuming our intel is correct, they’ve been experimenting with neural dampeners tied to biological markers. Apparently they’d been attempting this from the Rainbow Room days. It’s.. Align a projectile to a type of signature and you can create a localized null for specific responses. It’s small scale. It’s targeted. They require some sort of sample to calibrate it though. It’s something to worry about because if they have it.. You’ll never know when they turn it on.”

Steve felt the room tilt. That word- targeted- echoed like a verdict. It’s how they saw him: target, asset, anomaly. Experiment. A molten fury rose, a need to turn that word into flesh, to break something, anything. He wanted to claw through the screens, smash every clock and map until the world shrank down to just him and the man he’d do everything for.

The RV hummed as it continued on, swallowing miles. Somewhere on the road a truck blew its horn. The sound echoed in steel and glass. For a split second, Eddie’s laugh rode through the echo, vivid and cruel. His mouth went dry.

He stood abruptly, making a show of stretching. The movement was a small performance for the people watching him- Hopper’s set jaw, Doc’s measured observations, Wayne’s quiet worry. Steve’s fingers fumbled to the pocket where he’d stashed a small scrap of Eddie’s shirt, just a piece he’d torn off the first night they’d left the bunker to find Wayne- the cloth was folded so small it was hardly noticeable, smelling like the bunker and something sweeter- salt and a faint trace of something that was purely Eddie.

Steve brought it to subtly his nose, inhaling quietly. The scent struck like a punch, waking and wounding him in equal measure. For a dizzying moment, he saw Eddie leaning into Doc’s van, laughing at something stupid, sunlight in his hair. He heard a curse mixed into that grin.

“No. No. Don’t do this to me,” he whispered aloud by accident, voice hoarse, raw and desperate.

Dustin turned- when had he sat beside him? “Want me to-?” He started, tentative, understanding.

“No.” Steve snapped, it was softer than he meant to be, but still too harsh, the word cracking. He forced a breath. “Just-.. Keep your eyes on the.. Map. On the map.”

Robin watched him with the kind of careful sympathy that made him feel like a kid again, small, vulnerable.. “You holding up okay?” She whispered under her breath, meant only for him to hear.

Steve managed a brittle, hollow laugh. “I’m fine.” He most certainly would not be mentioning the shadow that had followed him out of the quarry, the face at the end of the corridor. He did not mention the part about how a voice had called out “Steve!” that sounded suspiciously like Eddie’s when it woke him from a nightmare. He swallowed and counted the hum of the RV’s tires instead, thumbing the folded piece of fabric in his pocket.

Maps slid across the TV as Doc switched overlays- thermal, visual, human footprints, vehicle routes. The resolution was nearly cruel in its clarity as it showed a shot of the single land road outside the lab. Empty except for loose leaves blowing past.

He started at it all, taking in the long stretch of road he still saw in his nightmares, trying desperately not to explode into motion. He imagined the lab like a beast: rows of teeth that sank into him, a throat that swallowed people and spit back out monsters. He imagined finding Eddie in some white room, shaking and small, and pulling him back into the world by force if he had to.

-You’ll get him back by tomorrow night.- He promised to the empty space, the void in his mind where Eddie should be. -You will not fail him. You will not fail me.-

A loose idea of movement, of angles, started to form in his head- where the guards moved the slowest, where the cameras had their blind spots, where the concrete was thinnest- and with each layer of strategy his rage sharpened into focus. He felt an old predatory calm settle over him like armor.

The hallucinations didn’t stop, but they did stop talking to him. The ghost of Eddie’s laughter became a guide instead of a knife. The small of leather turned into a breadcrumb trail he could follow instead of something that would set him screaming.

When Hopper glanced at him and murmured, “You ready for all this?” Steve’s answer was a low, all-consuming thing in his chest. “Of course.”

He let the RV glide on, let it soothe his nerves and sharpen his resolve as the trees blurred around them. Inside, Steve Harrington sat like a wound with a plan- angry, grayed, and narrowing like a hunting animal toward a single pulse of meaning: Eddie.

---

The RV shuddered once as the engine powered down, falling into a too-loud silence. The faint, ever-present hum vanished, leaving an echo buzzing in his skull like a swarm of bees. He sat stiff, hands gripping the armrests of the stupid chair so hard it groaned, threatening to snap. For a long, agonizing movement, he didn’t move, didn’t want to. If he stayed here- inside- maybe he wouldn’t have to face anyone, maybe he could avoid the vast emptiness pressing against him, avoid the ghosts already flickering at the edges of his vision.

But the others were moving, their voices spilling around him as they climbed out into the middle of nowhere. And he meant that literally- miles of nothing but birds, snakes, the occasional deer rustling through the trees. Boots crunched too loudly on dirt and gravel. Murray’s grumbling cut through the air. Robin’s nervous, overbright laugh grated on him. Jonathan’s low murmur barely registered. And that woman- this too-chipper stranger with her insufferable, cheerful voice- ushering them out like they weren’t marching deeper into hell. He hated her voice already. Too bright. Too kind.

-I don’t need kind, I need Eddie.-

With a sharp exhale, Steve tore himself from the chair. His movements were stiff, mechanical, like a puppet jerked by invisible strings. He hesitated, just for a second, eyes dragging reluctantly to the window.

There- just over his shoulder, mirrored in the dim glass- was a familiar shape. Dark curls, the angle of a jaw he’d trace in his sleep, a smudge of something, someone he’d recognize anywhere. His chest constricted, stomach plummeting. For the briefest, cruelest second, Steve let himself believe -he’s here, he found me, he’s waiting just outside.-

With a blink it dissolved into nothing.

“Fuck you.” He hissed under his breath, unsure if he meant the reflection, the lab, himself, or the empty space beside him that ached with absence.

With a bitter shake of his head, Steve shoved out of the RV, boots hitting the dirt with a resounding thud.

The night air struck like a fist. Clean, too warm, threaded with the scent of wood, damp earth, and the distant sharp tang of something metallic that set his nerves alight. He inhaled deeply, and there- beneath the trees and smell of wild animals- was what he’d been waiting for. Oil, wires, insulation, scorched metal, and the acrid tang of electricity burning into something solid. He didn’t need the woman’s bubbly directions. Didn’t need her infuriating, perky voice telling him where to step. He could smell it. Every trap, every write, every camera. The safe house.

But she kept on talking, failing her arms like some kind of tour guide, -like she can see through the night, like she’s better than me, like she knows anything about this he…- “and it’s a bit of a trek, so we’ll want to peace ourselves as not to-”

His lips peeled back, a soundless snarl itching to break free. He didn’t care, didn’t want her pace, her voice, her hollow optimism.

Steve snatched up the heavy bag- the one Hopper had struggled with- and angrily stormed off from the clearing, boots smashing through leaves and snapping twists with vicious intent. No pause, no doubt, just straight toward that sharp, unnatural scent.

“Oi, Harrington!” Murray barked behind him, irritation sharp.

“Steve?” Wayne’s voice was softer, uncertain, threaded with a worry that slices deeper than any shout would’ve.

The others chimed in too, voices overlapping in a chaotic mess of confusion and exasperation.

“Steve!”
“Where are you-”
“Hey man, wait up!”

But none of them mattered. None of them sounded like him.

Except-

“Stevie.”

The sound slices through the woods, a single note strummed on a taut string. Steve froze mid-step, breath icing in his throat. His vision snapped into predatory focus, pupils dilating against the dark until every branch, every shift of the leaves, etched into clarity. He swallowed hard, mouth too dry.

-No. No, he’s not here. He’s not here. He can’t be. Pull it together, Harrington.-

His jaw clenched, teeth grinding so hard the sound reverberated in his ears. “Ignore it,” he growled to himself, voice low, guttural, like it was dragged up through broken glass. “He’s not here.”

But his body betrayed him. His head tilted, just slightly, ears straining to catch that sound again, heart hammering against his ribs, each beat screaming the same desperate thought: What if? What if? What if?

And then it was gone. Faded off, just wind whispering through the trees.

He sucked in a sharp breath, chest heaving too fast. His claws pressed hard against the inside of his fingers, begging to unsheathe, to tear into the earth, to shred through the forest until he found him. Instead, he balled his fists, blunt nails cutting into his palms until the sting hurt enough to keep him grounded, to keep him from spiraling.

Behind him, branches snapped as the others struggled to catch up, their flashlights bouncing erratically between the trees. Too slow. Too noisy. Too human.

Steve surged forward harder, faster. Each step an angry stomp, as if he could crush the pain beneath his boots. His thoughts snarled, twisting into jagged, sharp bursts.

-If you’re here, I’ll find you. I’ll tear through every shadow.-
-If you’re not, I’ll torch the earth until I can drag you back.-
-I can smell it. The lab. The metal. The chains. They’ve caged you, think they own you. They’re wrong. They’re fucking dead wrong… Fucking dead when I’m done.-

“Stevie…”

The voice slithered back, softer, teasing, curling around him like smoke. He snapped his head to the side so fast his neck cracked, but there was nothing- just dense shadows weaving between trees, too thick, too alien.

His throat clamped shut, he couldn’t stop the whisper that slipped out, raw and broken. “Eddie…”

The forest swallowed the name, and still, he pressed on. Faster. Angrier. Because if he slowed down, if he stopped, if he let himself listen too much, his mind would win. And he couldn’t- wouldn’t- let it.

He would find Eddie. Or Steve would tear the whole fucking world down trying.

The safehouse rose out of the trees like it had been planted there decades ago, bark and moss grown into its siding until it looked less like a building and more like part of the forest itself. From a distance, it might’ve passed for nothing more than a hunter’s shack, square and single-story, roof bowed slightly under the weight of leaves and fallen branches. Too ordinary. Too quiet.

Steve reached it long before the others. His boots scuffing the first as he staggered to a stop at the edge of the small clearing. He didn’t pause to marvel at how perfectly the place blended into its surroundings, how it might be the perfect place to hide from the lab. He just stood there, firsts curled so tight his knuckles bled pale, staring at the muted shape of the house like it might lunge at him. -Eddie, are you in there? No.. No, I'd know if you were. I’d feel it. Right?-

He didn’t stop inside, couldn’t. The front door was shut- not that it would stop him-, innocuous, but his skin crawled at the thought of opening it. Instead, he dropped the bag at the door with a heavy thud and drifted along the side of the building, movements stiff, controlled, like a predator circling prey. His head twitched as he listened to the forest around him.

Nothing but the chorus of crickets. The occasional rustle of leaves by boots in the distance. The far off hoot of an owl.

But beneath it- yes, there. A low, muffled hum, so faint he almost thought he was imagining it. He crouched, pressing his palm flat against the cold wood siding, ear tilted toward the ground. The earth itself was carrying it upward. Machines. The hum of wires. Something alive and working deep under the forest floor.

He bared his teeth in a jagged, humorless smile. “Knew it.” Steve’s breath fogged faint in the night air, though realistically he knew it was far too hot for it. His body had been running cold ever since he fell- like something had hollowed him out and filled the gap with glaciers. He shifted, rolling his shoulders as thought he could shake it off.

Keep moving. That’s all he could do.

Circling, step after step, boots crunching, shoulders brushing past the siding, eyes darting to every shadow like it might reveal Eddie hiding within. His gaze snapped to the window, the glass reflecting just enough to catch shapes behind him- shapes that didn’t belong.

A flash of curls.
A smirk, crooked and sharp.
Brown eyes narrowed in mischief.

Steve froze, sucking in a breath. “Eddie?” The name slipped out before he could stop it, low and ragged, almost ashamed of itself.

The reflection blinked out, gone before he could turn.

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. He hated how easily his brain conjured him, how natural it felt to see him waiting in every pane of glass. -Why? Why do you keep doing that? I can’t- I can’t keep seeing you when you’re not here.-

He moved faster, rounding the house, almost stumbling.. The ground dipped here, roots tearing up through the soil, and Steve’s boots crunched louder than he liked. He glanced at the trees, and for just a flicker- there he was again. Standing between the trunks, hair wild, grinning wide.

“Stevie,” the hallucination whispered, clear as day, voice honey-sweet and mocking.

His knees buckled. Steve staggered, palm slamming against the siding to keep upright, splintering the wood. He was shaking, breath stuck in his throat. -No. No. Not real. Not. Real. You’d know if it was. I’d feel him. You’d know if he was here… Why can’t I feel you anymore?-

But he didn’t know. That was the worst part. He didn’t know anything anymore. The bond was gone, ripped out by hands that thought they had the right to touch what was his. And in its place, only cold. Freezing, seeping into his bones, into his soul. No warmth, no tether. Just endless, empty, nothing.

He hissed, dragging in air through his teeth, forcing himself to straighten even though his legs trembled. “Not real,” Steve spat at the air. He paced again, sharper this time, the rhythm of his boots erratic, barely holding him together. -Move. Keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t think. Don’t feel.-

And then another voice- taunting now, almost hissed.

“King Steve.”

His eyes snapped up, wild. Steve had only ever heard Eddie call him that jokingly. Never, never like.. That. It made his heart lurch, his stomach roll, made him feel small.

“Fuck off.” He snarled, angry at the hallucination, angry at himself, angry at the void where Eddie should be, at the world. His fists trembled at his sides, claws pricking through.. “You’re not here. You’re not-”

The cold flared through his chest again, worse than before, stealing his breath away. He’d been able to ignore it before now, but it was sharper, crueler. He hunched over, unbalanced by it, until he had no choice but to lean against the side of the house. One boot coming to prop back against it, steading himself as he tried not to shake apart. Steve crossed his arms tight over his chest, gripping his arms hard enough to bruise, like he was physically holding himself together. His head tipped back, knocking hard against the wall.

Still, no sound of the others.

If he focused hard enough, he could hear them, there in the distance- voices, footsteps- but faint, dragging. Too slow. Always too damn slow. His jaw clenched, teeth aching with the force of it, fangs piercing his lip.

A growl tore up his throat, low and rough, chest vibrating with the sound. He wasn’t even sure who it was aimed at anymore. Them, for lagging behind. Himself, for needing them. The lab, for taking Eddie. Eddie, for not being here.. For throwing him off that cliff. -I should’ve grabbed you. Should’a pulled you down with me.-

The woods pressed in, and all Steve could do was wait, every inch of him coiled tight with restless fury. His arms squeezed tighter across his chest, and he tapped the toe of his boot against the wall behind him, each thud a poor substitute for the rhythm he really wanted- the thrum of the bond beating steady against his mind.

But there was nothing. Just the hollow ache of absence.

Steve shut his eyes against the sting and let the silence gnaw at him, missing Eddie so badly it was a physical wound splitting him open. He hated waiting, hated the cold feeling. But mostly- he hated how much it hurt to be alive without him. -You’re cracking. Harrington. Every goddamn second without him.-

Time crawled by. He eventually moved to be perched on the porch railing, arms still crossed over his chest, one boot propped against the weathered wood, gaze fixed on the trees beyond like they might spit Eddie out if he stared hard enough. The cold had dulled again, settling into a slow ache that wrapped around his ribs like barbed wire. He flexed his fingers, feeling the subtle prickle of claws beneath his skin, letting his eyes narrow, scanning the shadows in every direction like a caged animal.

-Why is it always this slow? Always miles behind? I’ll leave them. I’ll tear through the woods myself. I don’t need them. I just need….. Eddie.-

The wind stirred the branches, carrying the faint scent of the woman and the rest of their group. Steve shifted his weight, tuning his senses to the rhythm of leaves and snapping twigs, every sound grating on him. He held himself tight. Every second without Eddie felt like teeth gnawing into bone. Every snap of a branch was a reminder that the world kept moving while Eddie was trapped somewhere deep, screaming in a place where no one cared.

After what felt like hours- but could have been minutes, days even- movement appeared through the trees. -Fucking finally.- Figures emerged, led by the cheerful, impossibly confident woman. Her flashlight bobbed ahead, cutting through the shadows. The group followed behind, boots crunching, breathing audible in the quiet night.

Steve straightened, face blank but eyes burning, chest barely rising and falling, still tense but a little more composed than when he’d first arrived. He pushed off from the railing and planted both feet firmly on the ground, arms folding again. The woman called out just before reaching the clearing.

“Steve! Don’t go running off next time! You could have gotten yourself killed!”

He rolled his eyes, letting the words crash over him like static. Just meaningless noise.. He didn’t respond, everyone else knew what he was capable of. This was just one of Doc's friends.

The heavy bag at his side- practically weightless to him- he scooped it up in one hand and slung it over his shoulder, his other flexing, nails pressing against his palm. He fell in line behind her, boots silent as she guided them to the front door.

With a practiced twist, she unlocked the door- as soon as the latch clicked, multiple guns shot out from the walls, swiveling toward them, lined up with a cold precision. Steve’s eyes flared with irritation, the familiar pull of anger coiling under his skin, his instincts screaming, claws itching something fierce. But the woman punched in a passcode just in time as the barrels began to rotate, the weapons sliding back into their hidden slots with quiet mechanical whirrs.

“No drunken nights.” Murray joked, voice shaking, the tension in his shoulders betraying the laugh. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head in disbelief.

Steve grunted softly, the smallest hint of amusement breaking through. -Tougher than she looks. Good.- He moved inside, the house’s interior cool against his somehow heated skin, the faint hum of hidden machines vibrating through the floor beneath him. The woman guided them toward a nondescript bathroom, and with a practiced flick of a switch hidden on a wall, the toilet slid away to reveal a set of stairs leading down.

The steps were narrow, lined with metal, but solid. Steve descended first, boots making minimal sound against the tread, though his movements were sharp, too quick, like he couldn’t wait another second. At the bottom, the space opened up into a large, wide room. The smell of electronics and warm machinery filled his nose. Desks were scattered about, covered with monitors and keyboards, stacks of papers, and blinking lights. Screens displayed maps, data charts, schematics- everything they had managed to gather about the lab.

Eyes darting over the room, he took in every angle, every shadow. The hum beneath the floor was louder here, a subtle vibration that crawled up his spine and tickled his fingers. His claws itched again, thoughts drifting briefly to Eddie. -All this, and it still won’t be enough. Not without you.-

“This-,” the woman started, hand sweeping over the room, what was her name? He couldn’t recall, didn’t care. “-is just the planning room. Safe enough, sure, but mostly just a distraction meant to be found if someone comes looking. The real safe area is hidden deep under one of the bedrooms upstairs. Computers, surveillance, the works- this is just the first layer.”

He nodded, hands flexing again, fingers brushing against the strap over his shoulder, grip too tight. The room smelled of cold metal and circuits, sterile, but alive. His eyes flicked to each monitor, running numbers and blueprints- he could feel the presence of the lab like a pulse through the walls, could perfectly imagine the layout, the guards, the sterile corridors- every detail mapped in his mind already. -They think I won’t find him. They’re fucking wrong. Wrong.-

Shifting from foot to foot, he couldn’t stand still for long, so he started to slowly walk the room, energy coiling tighter with each breath. The others clustered near the door, murmuring and adjusting to the new environment, but Steve barely noticed them. Every sound- the click of a keyboard as he pressed it in passing, the whir of a fan, the distant hum of other machines underground- pushed against his fraying nerves. He could feel the cold growing inside him again, crawling along his spine, and he moved just to keep it from freezing him solid.

-Keep going. Don’t stop. Stopping means thinking. Thinking means- Eddie. No. Yes. Always.-

Shaking his head he tried to force himself to focus. -Focus on the room. Focus on the plan. Focus on what I need to do… Eddie. Find Eddie.-

The woman walked to the far desk, tapping a key to bring up a larger display of blueprints on a wall-mounted screen that took up half the area. “We’ll need to track patrols, map entry points, access points for elevators, stairwells, everything. I’ve got some of the best intel we have, but it’s just the beginning.”

Steve moved toward the wall of screens, eyes sweeping across the schematics and patrol rotations. -They didn’t ask for my input… There’s some here I don’t know but.. They’re missing so much. They don’t get it. They don’t feel it.- He rolled his shoulders, muscles aching with tension, mind coiling tighter with every passing second. Every monitor, every display, every flicker of the lights- he cataloged it all, almost obsessively.

-They have Eddie. They’re probably keeping him somewhere hot. Somewhere he can’t scream for help. Every second that passes, they think they have control. They don’t. They never will. I’ll take it back, take him back.-

He shook the thought of his head, taking a deep, shuddering breath, taking another tight lap around the room, boots barely making a sound against the polished floor, pace uneven, almost manic. The room felt too quiet, too small, as though the walls themselves were pressing against him, suffocating him.

And still, he waited. Every heartbeat, every tick of the monitors, every flicker on the screen brought one thought back to the forefront: Eddie.

-They’ll pay. I’ll make them all pay.-

Steve’s gaze lifted to the ceiling for a brief second, then snapped back down to the blueprints, memorizing every corner, every exit, every hidden door of that first floor with a feverish intensity. His mind raced, sharp and unraveling at the edges, something jagged cutting through reason. He tried to focus on the one thing he needed to do, the only thing keeping him from splitting apart.. He would find him, he had to.

“Set everything down, let’s get you squared away,” the woman said, breaking the silence, voice too bright, too chipper for what they were staring down. Steve angrily licked over his teeth, the edge of fangs cutting his tongue, drawing a bead of cold blood as the urge to snap at her was almost too strong to ignore. He wanted to snarl, to tear into her- he wasn’t sure if he meant literally or verbally- for daring to sound so calm, but Wayne came up beside him, and the comment rotted in his throat.

Suddenly, he dropped the heavy bag on one of the desks with a thud that rattled the monitors on it. The kids all jumped, except for Eleven and Will, who had barely moved, their stillness unnerving him further. The zipper growled open beneath his barely extended claws, metal teeth spitting apart, and he began laying things out with quick, precise movements. His sword went first, the sheath gleaming under the lights. Then the long sniper case, he briefly thumbed over the locks with too much force, nearly snapping them. Then came the guns, ammo, stacks of magazines, and several dull green boxes, each slammed down harder than the last. -Oh.. Shoulda been more careful? Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but getting to Eddie.- He spread it all across the desk like an altar, jaw twitching with the thought.

-He should be here. Eds would laugh, make some joke about me playing soldier and.. I’d roll my eyes, pretend to be annoyed. Then he’d give me that stupid little smile and I’d just… I’d… He should be here.-

The others unpacked slower, filling the room with the clatter of supplies, the rustle of canvas bags, each sound like nails against a chalkboard. Hopper and Wayne moved with practiced efficiency, neither wasting a motion, sorting weapons and ammo into clean rows while Steve’s hands shook with barely contained rage. Wayne’s face was stone, eyes narrow, hands clenched, his gaze snapped to him, a bead of worry curling low in his gut. Hopper on the other hand was calmer, softer, like he knew half of them would crack if he looked too harsh. -They’re.. Too steady. Why can’t I be that? Why can’t I hold it together without him?-

Doc set down a folder bulging with papers and reports, sliding it neatly onto a cleared desk before pulling out medical kits from his own bag. “Bandages here, antibiotics here,” he muttered, already categorizing in his own precise way. “Gauze and painkillers over here.” Steve’s eyes darted to the supplies, a bitter laugh choking in his chest as he imagined Eddie bleeding somewhere, needing those same bandages. -They’re for you, Eds. I’ll get you back and patch every wound myself. I’ll kill ‘em, every one of ‘em for every drop they spill.-

Murray cracked a joke about supplies being “overkill for a field trip,” his laugh thin, nervous, echoing off the cement walls. Nobody joined in this time. The woman -what was her name?- did, though, the same too bright chuckle- but Steve’s glare cut across the room and pinned her until the sound died in her throat. He hated that she smiled like it was all fine, that her and Murray were joking like it wasn’t serious. That kind of optimism felt like a slap, a mockery of the cold void eating him alive.

Still, after a while, she stopped too. Her voice dropped, movements sharpened, and she directed where cables needed to be run, where packs could be stacked. Steve noticed, grudgingly, that he liked her better this way- serious, clipped, efficient. -Finally taking it seriously.-

The kids worked together, Dustin practically buzzing as he laid out extra magazines, his words tumbling fast as he explained how they should organize them for quick grabs. Lucas humored him, arranging rows but sneaking little smirks like he was trying not to get caught being just as into it. Mike’s hands shook when he pulled out a crowbar, but his eyes lit up with some grim excitement anyway. He wanted to scream at them all to stop pretending this was a game. -Kids. They’re just kids, and they’re better at this than me. How? How are they not falling apart like I am? Eddie, you’d laugh at me for this. Tell me to get it together, we trained for this. But I just.. I can’t.-

Will and Eleven were quiet in comparison, whispering between themselves as they helped organize rolls of gauze and antiseptic bottles on a small table. Steve picked up on fragments of their conversations. “-ready?” “-don’t know if-” “-we’ll try.” Their voices braided soft together, calm in a way that had Steve feeling a bit more relaxed.

Robin moved like a shadow between them all, her humor dulled but not gone. She muttered sarcastic comments to Nancy when Dustin got too carried away, earning quiet huffs of almost laughs that were gone as soon as they came.

He didn’t join any of it, keeping his eyes down and hands moving, arranging and rearranging weapons that were already in perfect rows. His foot tapped restlessly against the concrete, an itch crawling in his chest.

-I’m cold. So, so cold, without Eddie. Alone. The bond’s gone, and it’s never coming back. It’s like I’m hollowed out, hollowed through. Can’t sit still, can’t stop moving. If I stop I might.. Might never start again. Might fall apart, shatter. Keep moving. Keep doing.-

Steve shifted the sword's position again, adjusted the magazines by a millimeter. He could see flashes at the edge of his vision- dark curls tumbling over sharp cheekbones, a grin, a set of fingers almost brushing his wrist. “C’mon sweetheart, quit brooding. You look like you’re constipated.” His head snapped up, he’d been trying so hard to ignore it, to deny the hallucinations. Because there was no one there. No Eddie. Just empty air mocking in its silence. -You’re not here. I know you’re not. But I hear you. I see you.. Why do I keep seeing you? Stop it… Stop tearing me apart like this, Eds. Or come back…. Please.. Come back.-

He pressed his palms flat to the table until the edges dug into his skin. He needed to focus. Focus on the weapons, on the weight of the rifle. Focus on the way Hopper and Wayne spoke low together, their words measured, two men who’d seen war and didn’t flinch from it. Steve wasn’t jealous- not exactly- but bitter heat twisted in his gut anyway. They had the knowledge. They had experience. All he had was a hole where Eddie should be.

The woman -fuck, what’s her name?- reappeared at his side, too close, too casual. “You’ve got good hands,” she stated, nodding at the neat spread of weapons.

He didn’t look at her, didn’t answer. Just shifted one more clip into place with a jerky, too-hard motion, nearly snapping it in half..

Finally, Steve glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She wasn’t smiling anymore, more serious, sharp. And just for a second, he wanted to say something. Then he rolled his eyes, picked up the empty bag, and stalked to the far wall, the fabric clutched like armor.

-Not gonna be steady, not gonna be focused. Not without him.-

The room buzzed with soft chatter and the clatter of metal, the rhythm of preparation filling the air. He leaned against the wall, arms folded tight, letting it all wash over him like static. He missed Eddie so badly it physically hurt, a knife twisting deeper with each breath.

But still, he waited. Needed the timing to be right, even as the cold inside him grew into a howling blizzard, threatening to bury him under its weight.

---

Time dragged on underground. The piles of weapons and supplies were sorted, the last of the bags zipped and shoved against the wall, but no one moved to leave. Not yet, they’d still need to plan. But the concrete air had a heaviness to it, like if they stepped away the whole place might crumble under the weight of what was coming.

Someone had eventually dimmed the overheads, switching on smaller lamps so the fluorescent buzz wouldn’t eat them alive. The light shifted soft, golden at the edges, making the room feel a little less like a bunker and a little more like.. Something else. Not home, never that, but maybe a space where breathing didn’t hurt quite so much. Though the flicker of the monitors occasionally broke the calm.

Dustin sprawled on the floor, back against his pack, tossing an empty magazine up and down like a toy. Lucas sat beside him, knees pulled up, head tilted back against the wall. Mike fiddled with the crowbar in his lap, turning it over and over, like maybe if he stared hard enough he could will it into being something braver.

Will and Eleven were off to the side, still close, still whispering. El leaned forward on her knees, braid swinging, while Will doodled something shaky on the edge of a map- symbols or sketches, Steve couldn’t tell. Their voices were so quiet he didn’t bother trying to focus on what they said.

Nancy and Jonathan sat near Hopper, who had finally allowed himself to collapse into a chair with a grunt, rubbing at his eyes. Joyce hovered at his side, one hand ghosting his shoulder before retreating, like she wanted to soothe but didn’t dare in front of everyone.

Robin leaned on the edge of a desk, chin in her hand, eyes half-closed but not sleeping. Every once in a while she’d mutter something sarcastic at Murray, who had parked himself in another chair with a cup of coffee he kept insisting was “absolutely necessary” if they expected him to think straight.

Steve was the only one who couldn’t be still.

He prowled. Around the desks, across the room, along the walls. Every pass, his eyes snagged on the sword, the sniper case, the endless rows of clips and magazines. -Tools. All just tools. And what good are they if he’s not here to fight beside me?-

“Pet,” a voice purred, half-laughing, sharp with teeth. Eddie’s voice. His breath hitched; head snapping to the corner- nothing there. Just concrete and stacked supplies.

Steve ran his tongue over his teeth, sharp points catching, just barely poking through. His hands curled into fists, flexed, then dragged across his sleeves. His skin itched like frostbite and the bond’s absence gnawed, hollow and cold, like something vital had been carved out of him.

-He’s not dead. I’d know. I’d know. They think I’ll lose my mind, but I won’t. I won’t. I just need to move. Need to fight. Need to tear the whole lab down to the foundation and drag him out myself.-

His pacing stuttered when he caught Wayne watching him. The man didn’t say a word- just gave the smallest nod, a tether, a reminder to breathe. He forced himself to lean against the railing that lined the stairs down into the room, arms crossing tight over his chest. It was a brittle stillness, one heartbeat from breaking, but it was something. For Wayne, he’d force himself to hold it together.

At some point the woman reappeared with a stack of mismatched mugs, a teapot steaming faintly, and an upbeat smile plastered across her face, “Alright, we’re not running on fumes in my house. Everyone take a cup.”

His lips curled before he caught it. She was too bright. Too casual. -Like this is a sleepover.- But then she set the tray down, voice dropping into something even and calm, eyes steady as she added, “You’ll need it before tomorrow.”

And he stilled, surprised to feel almost a thread of grudging respect. Serious now, and that, he could stomach. That he almost liked.

Murray put down his empty coffee and took a mug with a theatrical sigh. “Well, nothing like tea and looming black site death squads to spice up an evening.”

“Shut up, Murray.” Hopper grunted, but his voice lacked bite.

The group laughed- soft, shaky, short lived- but it filled the room, loosened the edges for a moment.

He didn’t laugh, eyes drifting to the wall, to the shadow just out of reach, where Eddie -no, not Eddie- leaned sometimes in the corner of his vision, arms folded, smirk tearing at the corner of his mouth. “Miss me, Stevie?”

His jaw was so tight his teeth creaked. -Always. Every goddamn second.-

The warmth of the room spread around him, but never reached where he needed it most. There were the quiet murmurs of voices, the shuffle of tired bodies settling into uneasy rest. But Steve stayed on edge, still cold inside, still waiting for the night to end and the fight to begin.

And he missed Eddie so much he thought it might kill him.

Steve breathed in like the air was rationed, and tried to calm the tremor under his skin. Tried to quell the urge to go, go now, get him. Eyes closing for one slow second, just one, to stop thinking in those frantic jagged lines and try to fold himself back into something resembling a person. Tried to close the seams that threatened to burst open. But nothing fixed that hollow space inside him, though breathing slowed the fraying edges. He opened his eyes slowly, let them sweep the room- the covered desks, the mass of monitors, the little islands of equipment, the faces half-lit and taut in their own whispered conversations.

He pushed off the railing and walked to the monitor wall with as much control as he could fake. The woman -God, what was her name? Angela? Maranda maybe?- gave him a tight nod as he passed. Steve cleared his throat loud enough to cut through the multiple quiet conversations around the room.

“Alright.” His voice broke through the sea of whispers, firm, steadier than he felt. “I’m not waiting until you lot are half asleep for this.” He folded his arms, felt the muscle in his jaw flex. “Tomorrow night, we’re getting Eddie back. It won’t be easy, far from it actually. And it won’t be pretty. But I’m not leaving that lab without him.”

Heads snapped up. A rustle. Nods, murmurs. Some of the kids inhaled like they’d been yanked under water and forced back up, eyes suddenly wider, more alert. Like this had just become real for them. Hopper’s face schooled into that old soldier’s look- patience wrapped over a growing, dangerous focus. Wayne didn’t change expression much; he simply stood there steady as a tree and let Steve take the lead. That small tether was enough to keep him from shaking off the edge of, well, himself.

“Those blueprints-” he continued, motioning at the screens with a blunt sweep of his hand. “-are nice, useful even, but they’re incomplete, missing too much for us to go in confident.” He paced, fingers ghosting across the desk beside him. “Doc, you put down only the floor you saw or worked on, but you don’t have the entire picture. There are levels they kept under wraps, rooms I remember- not all of them are on here.”

Doc came around the monitors, tired eyes pinched. “You saw more down there than you let on, didn’t you.” He didn’t ask with skepticism- it was a question already soaked in belief.

He raised a brow, looking back at the screens. “We have an incomplete set. We’re going in pretty much blind. But I can.. Put up more than we have now. Give us a little extra.” He shook his head, walking over to some high tech pad the woman was motioning him over to.

Vaguely paying attention to her instructions, he took the.. Stylus, and started drawing. “This elevator right here-” he circled the last floor Doc knew of, “-goes down to where I was kept.” He drew quickly, furious, precise, a mismatch of different areas. The elevator shaft he circled; little notations in his blocky cramped writing about different floor numbers. He made more notes on how far, in steps, certain doors were from others.

He drew the showers where they’d been watched. The cold room where he’d forgotten his own name. The ‘gym’ where he’d almost died in Eddie’s arms. The hot room where he thought he’d burn alive strapped to that table. His old room, where he’d learned to count the second between guard’s steps. The room where he’d been forced into that little box of poison. He added in more elevators, wrote notes on how specific ones needed which keycards or which had shapes for buttons.

Everything he remembered, he drew. Adding in the pit, the ‘surgery center’, Brenner’s interrogation room. He labeled the vents, stairwells, the place he’d protected Eddie, even the route they took to escape the first time. If he’d seen it, even once in that endless hell. He drew it. Everything, including the floors he saw while ‘dreaming’, he drew it.

The map grew cluttered and ugly and alive with notes and bad sketches. Larger and larger but still, not perfect, not complete. Not nearly enough. Steve didn’t look up until the monitors were overrun with added details.

“We have a layout that’s better than what we started with,” he said firmly. “But it’s not perfect, not really a blueprint either. It’s just what we remember. They move things, change patrols, shift schedules.” He took a deep breath, turned to face them all again. “Besides that we have one major problem… Eddie is being moved to sublevel twenty- three. It.. It gets worse the further you go. And we have zero intel on that floor. We don’t know the layout, or even how to get down that far. So for that.. It’s a complete unknown… It’s one wrong move and we don’t come back. One wrong move and we’re dead.”

He let that sit, let the air pull tight with growing tensions.

“I’m gonna treat this like a classroom,” he went on, cold-eyed and clipped. “Questions? Comments. Raise your hand. Shout over me and I’ll bench your ass.” That got a small grin from Dustin and a dangerous little snort from Murray. But the kid’s nervous laughter cut some of the chill. He gave a tight nod, he’d let them have that little inside joke. “I’ll let you all in on my plan, suggestions and what not can come later.”

Reaching over, he clicked the mouse; the monitors flipped through surveillance stills and grainy recon- exteriors, the ring of the building, then an all too clean image of the woods around the lab. “Tomorrow night we’ll have that roughly sixty-minute window in the north.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Might be shorts, doubt it’ll even be that long honestly. So I’m not counting on it at all, you shouldn’t either. But if it’s there, good, we can use it.”

He clicked the mouse again; images of men in the woods swam around. “Whatever patrols we come across.. I’ll hear them, smell them, long before they notice us.” He looked toward Mike, eyes narrowing. “Last time I was useless because I didn’t expect this, didn’t expect them.” He let the anger slip through his voice, too raw around the edges. “This time? I’m not making the same mistakes.”

Again, he clicked the mouse, images shifting to a clear photo of the front of the lab. “This tree line-” he motioned vaguely behind him, “-had a good view of both guard towers. Intel says they mainly focus on the front of the building. If we come from the back-” he clicked again, images showing a distant photo of the back of the lab. “-I can get a clear shot. Wayne-” he met the man’s eyes across the room, he got a single nod in response. “-and I can hit them at the same time. I can get the guy on the roof too. But.. We’d have to be fast from there. They might have more men or someone might notice. Either way we’re working with a too short window.”

Mike slowly raised his hand, the other still fiddling with the crowbar. “So you’re gonna what.. Snipe them? From where?”

Steve flashed a quick grin before it died off. “Yeah. We’ll try and set up a spot around-” he clicked through the images until a side photo of the lab showing the woods came up. “-around here.” He motioned to the tree line in the distance. “Which should be empty for those sixty-minutes. Though I won’t count on it so if need be.. I’ll get up in a tree. But over here is higher ground, circles the back of the lab so we should have a bit of a vantage point. We need to do it quiet, clean, nothing showy unless we need a distraction.”

“I-” his chest tightened. He’d given them the start of a plan, gave them what he could. But over and over, images flashed through his mind- Eddie cuffed to a table, Brenner’s sharp smile- and the pain sharpened into a blade.

“I remember a vent down below.” He tapped his head like he was trying to remember something long forgotten. “It should be one of the air shafts that connects to one of the maintenance levels. If I’m right-” he rapped his knuckles on the monitor, “-we can bypass a heavy chunk of the interior using it, assuming it’s connected. But.. After what Eddie and I did… The lower vents are probably all locked down or sealed. So we’d need tools."

Hopper stepped forward slowly, face neutral, but Steve could see the way his nostrils subtly flared. “If you’re basing this off memory, we need to account for being wrong. We need to build contingencies- exit plans, back ups, things like that.” He didn’t say ‘when you’re wrong’ like it was a challenge; it was just fact. His mind wasn’t trustworthy on his best day.

Steve’s mind screamed with every possible wrong move at once, but calmed long enough to plan around them. -If they moved him, why twenty-three? What did they do that required them to build that deep? What sort of experiments are they running on him? How many hands between Brenner and those scientists?- He put a tiny X on one of the blueprints for the vent. -Maybe it’s where they conduct a specific experiment? Maybe it’s a testing floor? Maybe I’m running blind and this is hubris. But I can feel him there. I can smell iron, the tiles, the overpowering scent of bleach. I can…- He tightened his fingers around the stylus until it cracked.

“Rules.” He said suddenly, short. “If you’re going in, you move when I move. If you’re on watch, you hold that shit and you don’t come in unless ordered. If you’re staying behind, you’re on emergency medical- with Doc and.. Melody. -Yes, yes that’s her name.- You handle whoever comes back here only, no heroics with guns unless they find you down here.”

He looked at Dustin, at Lucas, at Mike- the three who still had that glint of adventure in their eyes. “Weapons are tools. They don’t make you brace. They just make you loud and noticeable. Use them right or you’re a liability.”

His words were grim, harsh, and they landed on the kids like a cold damp cloth. For once, he didn’t have to yell to be listened to.

His pulse matched the lightning underwood of thoughts: reconnaissance, insertion, extraction. His brain looped the checklist: routes, entry points, timing, comms. He watched the faces around him stack emotions like cards- fear, resolve, the brittle excitement of a kid on the verge of doing something impossible. He hated that they were kids in this, hated it like a fresh burn.

“Comms,” he added. “We use whispered channels. No open radio chatter. Doc will have a set of short-range scramblers if they try to pick up local frequencies. We’re not broadcasting anything. If someone goes down, we have a contingency, a code. We keep off the line unless absolutely necessary.”

Wayne’s voice, low and weathered, interjected. “We need to be ready for when they come after us. They’ll notice sooner than later. Might even trace the comms. We can’t hang on one line forever. Switching seems a good plan.”

Steve’s tongue felt thick. He wanted to tell them everything he’d dreamy- Brenner’s voice, that ugly bulging folder- but fear laced his words. He forced it into a shape everyone could use instead. “We have to move fast, be efficient. You step out of mine, you take a wrong turn, you get left behind. I will not have anyone slow me down in there.” He looked at Hopper when he said it, and felt the older man’s agreement.

Hopper’s stare was a battle hardened bluff and a promise. “You want me on the tail end?”

“You want me at the front.” He shot back. A jagged smile- the kind that was all sharp teeth- flitted for a second before he swallowed it. “Wayne’s with me at entry. Whoever else is coming in takes up the middle, Hopper you run the back.” He tapped the desk impatiently. “We need eyes outside the lab on watch.”

Doc stepped closer, quieter now. “If we can make a decoy or two- something to pull attention away- that buys you time. Melody found out a supply truck comes through weekly. We could trigger one of the alarms on the east side remotely. Add in some fake smoke, maybe trip some of their sensors. Nothing that’ll cause them to lock down completely, but enough to draw the outer guards in.”

“Pretty risky.” Hopper commented, crossing his arms. “But it’s an option.”

Steve’s fists twitched. -Risk. Always gonna be risks. They took him with risks and a whisper. They’ll answer with consequences. I’ll teach them consequences.- He forced his voice flat, neutral. “We need people on standby. Melody, keep a vehicle waiting just in case. He might be too hurt for another run through the woods. We need the option of a quick getaway.”

Melody, he internally nodded to himself at the name. She moved through the room with a brisk efficiency that made Steve’s teeth grind with a mix of irritation and respect. Her eyes were bright, but now they had a focus that matched the rest of the room. “We have environmental filters over there, acoustic masking,” she added. “We can jam a column of their internal comms for about two minutes. Not very long, I know. And I can feed their cameras into a loop, but only for a short window. If they change feeds or check backups, they’ll notice. It’s a one-shot advantage.”

“One-shot is all we’re gonna get.” He added, nodding to himself.

Looking around one, by one, he watched as everyone absorbed what they heard. Their faces shifted through stages- skepticism, tentative belief, a tightening resolve. Eleven’s jaw was set tight. Will was scribbling notes furiously. Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan were huddled together whispering quietly. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike looked like they might smear themselves with mud and call it war paint, but even they had the hollowed-out look that comes when a child’s game becomes too real. Even Murray was tense, eyes set on the crude blueprints flickering across the screens.

The cold was growing again, sharp in that empty space the bond left behind, and he fought the urge to pace, to fling himself around the room and scream until his lungs gave out. Instead, he tapped the monitors one last time.

“Listen.” His voice went low, tight, a lone steel thin. “We move hard, we move fast. No bravado. No improv unless it keeps someone alive. We stick to what we know and move cautiously through what we don’t. We bring Eddie home.” He stared down each of them- eyes hard on the adults, surprisingly fierce on the kids. “If you want to come, you do what I say when I say. If you can’t, be honest now. We don’t have room for heroics or mistakes.”

A hush. Then quiet agreements, nods, soft okays.

Steve let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, fingers flexing against the desk. For the first time in a long stretch of hours he felt something that resembled purpose instead of a raw, hollow ache. Though the ache didn’t just go away, it was there, a chord under everything- Eddie’s face lingering in his mind, the memory of being pushed, the all consuming pain of the fall- and it thrummed in rhythm with his pulse.

He looked at Wayne- this time he didn’t need a nod. Wayne’s hard look said exactly what he needed to hear: We’ll do this, together. We’ll get him back.

His thoughts snapped back, angry and too small to hold onto. -Get him back. Don’t let those fucking bastards touch him again. Never again. I can’t.. I won’t lose him again. I’ll claw through every damn wall, rip apart every door with my bare hands if I have to. Keep it together, breathe.. Breathe. One plan, just one. Focus on it. One step at a time. I need to.. Move. Now. I need to move, get Eddie. We’re all waiting for what? A window that might not even be there?-

With a deep sigh he pushed off the desk, turning away from them all. He moved to stand against a corner instead, leaning against it with his arms folded tight, eyes closed. And he just.. Listened.

Quiet whispers echoed that he didn’t bother to pay attention, gear checks, pockets and straps being adjusted. They were getting ready, every small action a stave against panic, in less than twenty-four hours they’d get him back. He could feel that animal inside him calm just enough to function, but it was simmering, waiting. -He’s there. I can practically feel him. Don’t fall apart now Harrington. Not yet. Plan. Breathe. Move.-

---

If you’d ask Steve what happened last night, or even this morning, he wouldn’t be able to give a single clear answer. His mind was a mess- drifting, unfocused, looping in rough half-memories that didn’t fit together anymore. He remembers Wayne’s voice, soft but firm, pulling him away from the wall he’d been leaning against for who knows how long. Remembers the feeling of being guided up the stairs down another. He thought there was food at some point- blood definitely- but he couldn’t tell when, or how much. Everything after that was a blur of sound and pressure, movement and stillness.

Steve thinks at one point he slept. He thinks he woke up in a cot. He knows that every single moment in between, every breath, every blink, Eddie was there.

Not really there, of course. The bond was still gone. But his voice- or something resembling his voice- filled every shadowed corner of Steve’s mind like a haunting melody- soft drawls and lazy affection, “Hey, sweetheart,” “You okay, baby?”- those tones NotEddie used when he was close enough for Steve to think he felt breath on his skin. But he wasn’t close. He knew that. He knew that. Still, sometimes when he turned too fast, he swore he caught a glimpse of him in the corner of the room- just a flicker of curls, or the sleeve of a leather jacket disappearing up the stairs.

And then the whispers changed.

“King Steve.”
“This is bullshit and you know it, sweetheart.”
“Maybe all of this is your fault.”

They always came soft, too quiet for anyone else to hear, too sharp for Steve to ignore. Then they’d twist, gentler again- Eddie’s voice, real Eddie’s voice, the one that always softened the edges of his worst nights. “It’s not your fault. I’m here, Stevie. You’ll find me.”

But he wasn’t. He was standing alone back in the planning room, back right where he started. The reflection he passed in one of the dark monitors looked like a stranger- eyes red rimmed, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. The sword was back on his hip, the sniper hanging heavy over his shoulder, knives lining his back. Every weapon was in its place, everything neat and organized, everything ready- except him.

His body felt.. Cold hardly described it. Always cold. No matter how much blood he’d had, no matter how much he moved, it was like his veins were flowing with it. Steve wondered half-crazed, if maybe it was because Eddie wasn’t here. Maybe the bond carried all his warmth through, and now that it was gone, he was bleeding frost from the inside out. Maybe he was always like this, always cold. Maybe Eddie chased it away, maybe he radiated the sun. And without him…

Blinking slowly, he forced the haze of thoughts back down, trying to focus. Doc was fiddling with something mechanical nearby, wires tangled around his hands. Wayne was cleaning his rifle, slow and methodical. Jonathan and Robin were whispering to each other, Dustin pacing near them. Everything was normal, quiet, almost calm- and that made it worse.

Boots thudded against the floor as he pushed off the railing, walking back to stand beside the monitors. “Listen up.” His voice came rough, but steady enough. It was the first time he remembers talking in hours. But no one heard him. Grinding his teeth, heat sparked under his skin. But it died before it could warm him. “Listen up!”

That got their attention. The room fell silent around him.

Crossing his arms, he let out a long exhale through his nose. “Alright.. So.. Tonight Melody will have a van waiting.” When her name left his lips he frowned for a second before shaking it off. -Melody. Right. Yeah.. That’s her name.- “Doc and Will are staying down here. They’ll handle comms, what surveillance we have, and medical for whoever makes it back.”

He nodded to himself, jaw twitching. “Since I don’t feel like arguing with the rest of you, and Will was good enough to stay put- Lucas, Mike, and Robin, you’re on perimeter watch. Stay outside, stay hidden, keep the comma clear unless something happens.”

Mike opened his mouth, ready to argue, but the glare he shot him could’ve cut through stone. “Don’t. You two are the sneakiest little shits I’ve ever met, and Robin's with you to make sure you don’t get yourselves killed. She has more than your little pocket knives to give you both time to run if things go south. Robin- watch their backs.”

Her answering nod was firm, mouth tight. “Got it.”

Steve’s eyes flickered around. “Dustin. You, Jonathan, Nancy- you’re the middle team. You move when I say move, stop when I say stop, understand? Nance, you’ve got the best eye out of anyone here. Keep it sharp.. Jonathan, you know how to handle yourself. Dustin-” he hesitated. -Kid shouldn’t even be here.- “You’ll be keeping track of where we are. Use the map. Floors, rotations, whatever info we’ve got. Don’t let us get cocky.”

He knew it was a poor excuse for a reason, but right now he couldn’t be bothered to argue with him anymore. It was bad enough the kid was coming inside at all.

“Hop, you’re rear guard.. With Murray.” He shot a pointed look at said man, tone dripping with warning. “No commentary. Not tonight.”

Murray raised both hands like he was innocent, muttering something under his breath that he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to. He kept going.

“Wayne, Joyce- you’re with me. Up front.”

Steve turned to Eleven then. “Kid.. I don’t like that you’re coming at all. Mostly because Brenner’s gonna be there. And I guarantee he’s going to try and get you back as much as he’s gonna try to grab me when he finds out you’re there. But.. We need you. My powers aren’t trained the way yours are. I don’t know if they’ll fail again or…” He let out a quiet sigh. “I’m putting you in the middle next to Jonathan and Dustin.” Eleven gave a tight nod.

Letting the silence settle, heavy and expectant, he took a few calming breaths before continuing. “We’re not likely to hold our formation. Shit’s gonna move fast. I don’t expect anyone to just stay put if a fight breaks out- when.. When a fight breaks out. But I need you to try to keep your heads. We move as one. If we get split up, you book it out of there, get to the van. If I go down-...”

He stopped, throat closing, the words slicing like glass. -If I go down- he thought, -you keep going.- But what came out was, “If I go down, you get Eddie out. That’s the only thing that matters tonight.” Wayne tried to say something but the look he gave him- this wasn’t up for debate.

The room went quiet again. Everyone looked at him, and he could see the flicker of unease in their faces. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care. Steve knew it was a terrible idea. Terrible plan really. But it was all they had. And he wasn’t going to waste another second planning when Eddie was suffering. He’d been in there for days already, he wouldn’t let another pass.

Hands dropping to his sides, he curled his fingers to relieve some of the restless energy bubbling. -He’s down there. Still breathing. Waiting. Waiting on me. Every second I stand here is another second they’re hurting him. I’ll… I have to get him back.-

He turned back to the map, the monitors, the incomplete layouts, and all he saw was a cage. Every halfway, every tortuous room, every numbered floor- it all pulsed behind his eyes like a heartbeat. Eddie’s faint heartbeat, he could almost hear it, almost feel it, the way he desperately wished to, thrumming under his ribs like it belonged there.

But it didn’t. It wasn’t there. Not anymore.

Fists clenching with the urge to tear into something. “We move in a few hours,” he said finally, quiet but firm. “And I don’t give a damn what happens after that. I’m not leaving without him.”

No one spoke, but Hopper nodded once, slow and grim.

And he just stared at the screens- at the digital maze of corridors and elevators and cold steel rooms, and thought, -Hold on, Eddie. Just.. Just a little longer.- Because if he didn’t, Steve wasn’t sure there’d be anything left of himself to save.

---

It started quietly- no sharp pull into awareness, no sound or sudden shift. Just the feeling of being, the faint hum of electricity somewhere nearby, the sterile scent of metal and ozone crawling up the back of his throat. The air was heavy, almost viscous, and he had the strange sensation that if he moved too fast, it would ripple around him like water.

He blinked slowly, and the fog began to shape itself into walls- grey walls, smooth and gleaming, with a faint green tint beneath the surface. The lights buzzed overhead, dim and flickering, giving everything a washed-out look, colors smearing around the edges. He could’ve sworn he’d seen this place before, but the memory wouldn’t click. Every time he reached for it, it slipped away like trying to hold smoke.

He was sitting. That much Steve knew. A chair- cold, hard, metallic, pressing into his back. His hands rested on armrests, heavy and uncooperative. When he tried to lift them, the movement felt thick, like pushing through wet cement.

“What the hell…” He murmured, or at least thought so. The sound came out strange, muffled, warped.

Then the room in front of him came into focus.

A wall of monitors stretched before him, each one casting a pale glow across his face. At first, they flickered between static and darkness, as if trying to decide what to show him.

Then the static cleared.

The first screen flicked on. A grainy picture flickered in and out until he could make out someone in the middle of the room.

Eleven.

She was sitting on a concrete floor, wrists and ankles bound by heavy, black restraints, they looked to be bolted to the ground. Her head was down, hair hanging limp, a thick collar clear around her neck. There was a small tremor in her arms as she tried to shift, only for the chains to rattle sharply.

Steve’s breath caught in his chest.

The next monitor flickered on. Eddie.

It was like being punched in the chest.

He was on his knees, the same position Steve had found him before- only worse. His head hung low, curls matted down, dried blood dark against what skin he could see. The chains wrapped around his upper body, thick, layered across his chest, arms, even his neck. His wrists were bound behind him, metal biting into raw skin, and his entire body trembled with shallow breaths. He was bowed forward, forehead pressed to concrete.

His throat tightened, the world narrowing until all he could see was that one screen.

“Eddie.” It came out breathy, voice cracking small and hoarse.

No response. Just the faint sound of chains scraping when Eddie shifted- as much as he was able.

Steve tried to stand, to get closer, but his body refused to move. His arms were stuck as if glued to the armrests, the edges of metal biting into his skin. He could move his fingers, could feel the strain in his muscles, but it was like he was submerged- everything slow, sluggish, useless.

“Eddie.” He tried again, louder this time, panic cutting through his voice. “Hey, babe- look at me.”

Nothing.

The other monitors flickered again. For a heartbeat, he saw glimpses- Doc slumped over a table, Hopper shouting soundlessly into a void, Joyce pressed against a wall with blood streaked over her sleeve- but they didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

Just him. Just Eddie.

Pulse hammering in his ears, Steve fought against the invisible weight holding him down, fingers flexing against the armrests until his knuckles turned white. He needed to move. He had to move.

The edges of the room blurred again, as if the fog was seeping back in from the corners, eating away at everything except the screens. Eddie’s body jerked once- just a twitch- but it was enough to make his heart leap to his throat.

“Eds, please come on, baby. You just gotta-”

The sound of chains answered him. A dull, rhythmic clinking that echoed too loud in the quiet room. Then- slowly- Eddie’s head turned.

Steve froze.

It wasn’t the Eddie he knew. The face that looked up at him through the monitor was gaunt, eyes ringed black, pupils blown wide and wrong. There was no spark there, no warmth. Just hollow exhaustion. But even then, even through the haze, Eddie’s cracked lips moved- just enough for Steve to hear him.

“Too… Late…”

The voice was wrapped, watery. It stabbed through him nonetheless.

“No,” he rasped, jerking back as much as possible. “No, I’m not! I’m coming! I’m gonna get you out, I swear I-”

The image flickered. Eddie’s form blurred, shifted, vanished for a second before reappearing closer, like the camera had jumped. His eyes -God, his eyes- were staring straight at him now, through him.

“Steve…”

And then the monitor exploded in static, the entire wall of screens flaring bright white before cutting to black. The sound was gone. The air was gone. Everything went dark. Everything except for the faint hum of the chair beneath him.

And then the whispers came. Soft. Familiar.

You failed him.
He’s gone.
You should’ve gotten there sooner.
You let him.

He gasped, fighting to shake free of the chair, twisting to try and see the voices. But there was nothing but a fog he couldn’t see through. “Shut up.” He muttered, voice trembling. “Shut up!”

The whispers only grew louder. Your fault. You let them take him. He’s like that because of you.

Something grabbed his shoulder from behind-

Steve jolted upright, air slamming into his lungs like he’d been drowning. His hands shot out, fingers clutching at empty air as his vision cleared.

Concrete walls. Soft lights. The faint hum of machinery.

It was… -A dream. It was a fucking dream!-

Sitting slumped against the wall, chest heaving, cold sweat clinging to his skin. His pulse was still racing, throat raw as he blinked rapidly to steady the blur of lights.

A voice cut through the haze. “Steve?” Familiar, safe.

Wayne.

He blinked up slowly, the older man was crouched in front of him, worry etched deep in his eyes. Hopper stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

“You alright, son?” Wayne asked softly, reaching out but stopping just shy of touching.

“I-” He swallowed hard, forcing a shaky breath in through his teeth. “Yeah,” it came out rasped, dry, it didn’t sound like him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just- Just a bad dream.”

Wayne didn’t look convinced. “You were thrashin’ about.”

“I said I’m fine.” The words came out sharper than he’d meant, guilt immediately followed. Steve dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “Sorry. I just.. I’m fine. Really.”

Wayne hesitated, then nodded, patting his shoulder once before pushing himself up. “Alright. I’ll take your word for it, for now… Might wanna shake y’er self ‘wake. We’re leavin’ soon.”

Head thunking back against the wall, he stared straight ahead, trying to catch his breath. But no matter how deep an inhale, he couldn’t shake it- the image of Eddie, kneeling, bleeding, chained to that dirty floor.

And somewhere deep in his chest, the cold ache grew sharper.

He stayed there for a moment, sitting in the stale quiet, trying to collect himself. The air felt too thick, heavy with everyone else’s fear, nerves, anxiety. It clung to the back of his throat and made every inhale burn sharp in his chest. He tried counting breaths- one, two, three- but it didn’t help, his pulse was too fast.

With a groan, he pushed himself up from the floor, knees cracking, back popping, every movement reminding him he’d been wasting time. His muscles weren’t stiff so much as coiled- wired tight, ready to spring, but held back by some invisible hand.

Reaching for his rifle, there was a tremor in his hands as he picked it up, the cool weight comforting, but only just. Steve traced his fingers over the cool metals, palmed over the barrel, checked the chamber again. -It wasn’t my fault… Eddie you.. You need to know it wasn’t. I wouldn’t..- He swallowed hard, eyes squeezing shut. -I’m coming for you. And I’m not gonna leave you, never again. I swear to God sweetheart, I’m not leaving there without you.-

With a sigh he opened his eyes and checked the strap before sliding it over his shoulder with a jerky motion. It felt heavier than usual, like it carried the weight of his promise. He couldn’t stop his mind from running ahead of itself. -After all this is over… After the lab, after the Upside Down is all done with, you and I are gonna be alone. Bunker, gonna seclude ourselves. Just you and me. No noise. No people. No new smells. Just breathin’ and being. Just us.-

He rolled his shoulders, letting out another quiet groan, like his body was trying to constrain everything boiled under the surface.

Doc looked up as he approached, blue glow from a monitor casting sharp angles across his face. “So far they seem to be on track.” Doc said, nodding at something only he could see on the screen, Hopper leaning against the desk beside him.

Wayne shifted next to him, arms crossed. “So we’re good to hit ‘em from the back.”

“How long until we leave?” He cut in, voice flat but sharp enough to make the three of them stare at him for a long, quiet moment. His arms folded defensively across his chest, like a shield.

“Just a few minutes.” Doc replied evenly. “Everyone else is upstairs loading the van if you’d like to-”

Steve didn’t wait to hear the rest. He nodded once, curt, and turned on his heels. He didn’t need more words, he needed motion, he needed Eddie.

As he strode away, he caught their quiet whispers.

“Is he alright?” Hopper’s voice.

“I don’t think so,” Wayne answered, even quieter. “I think.. I think this is getting to him more than he’s letting on.”

-Of course it is.- He thought, the anger sparking like live wires, teeth grinding. -They have Eddie. They have him. How are you all so damn calm about this?! How are you standing here talking like this is just any other day!?-

He hit the stairs hard, taking them two at a time. The thud of his boots echoed like gunshots. -I should be there already. I should be there, not standing here waiting on someone else. I should be in that lab, ripping every door off until I find him. I should..- He shoved open the door, light spilling over him in a burst as he stormed through the house and into the warm night.

Branches cracked under his boots as he slammed through the trees, frustration a physical force in his chest, hands twitching around the rifle strap, claws itching to pop. -I should be there, Eddie. I should already be there. Shouldn’t have left you. Shouldn’t have stopped moving. They’ve got you on your knees again and I’m standing here like a fucking coward.-

The last of the trees broke away into the clearing, conversations ahead whispered and echoed strangely, like voices underwater as he tried to ignore them.

“Steve!”

Will’s voice carried over, a little too bright, a little too fragile. It cut through his storm for just a second.

A blink, and then Will was there, small and nervous, hands gripping at Steve for a quick, tight hug, before pulling back just as fast. “You stay safe, okay?”

He stared at him for a beat before nodding, slowly. His throat suddenly felt too dry. “Yeah.. Yeah, I will.”

“Oh, here!” Will fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small device, fingers moving quickly as he clipped it to Steve’s collar, talking fast. “Doc taught me how to set up the comms. Here, you just-” He clicked it on, tapped it twice, then held out a small earpiece. “You put this in your ear, and-”

He watched, unblinking, as Will demonstrated the motions again. His mind felt like it was somewhere else, like his body was just going through the motions.

“Got it?”

“Uh… Yeah, kid. I got it.” He took the piece and slid it into his ear. The plastic felt too small, too fragile in his fingers. “You just stay here and listen to Doc, alright? He knows what he’s talking about.”

Will nodded, eyes flicking down nervously. “You just.. You all come back alright? With Eddie. He.. We never got to make that campaign together.”

Steve’s chest clenched tight. He reached out, laying his hand gently on Will’s shoulder, thumb brushing over the fabric of his shirt. “I’m not coming back without him, kiddo.” He kept his voice low, steady, biting back the urge to growl. “So just.. Channel all that Will the Wise magic into a miracle for me, alright?”

That got a soft laugh from Will. It sounded too small for the clearing.

Doc, Wayne, and Hopper were approaching now, their shadows stretching long behind them. Steve glanced over, eyes flicking between their faces, but all he could see behind his eyes was Eddie- on his knees, head down, chains digging into his skin.

He shifted the rifle's strap, rolling his shoulders. -Just a little longer, Eds.- He thought, the words sharp and frantic, a prayer and threat all at once. -I’m coming. And I’m not losing you again. Never. Again.-

After a while, and more conversations he didn’t bother to pay attention to. They all piled into the van one after the others- quiet, taut, the kind of silence that isn’t a peace so much as holding its breath. Melody climbed in, cheerful in a way that had calmed half the room earlier; now her smile was a practiced thing, fingers light on the wheel, eyes sharp, all business. Wayne slid into the passenger seat beside her, guns settling at his feet. Hopper, Joyce, and Murray huddled along the bench, knees knocking. Eleven managed to squeeze in beside Hopper. Everyone else jammed into the remaining space in the far back. Robin sat on Nancy’s lap against the wall, Jonathan was pressed against Dustin, Mike and Lucas were fighting over who sat on whose lap. Guns and weapons between them all.

Steve went in last, hauling himself in. He sat like a heavy stone against the back door, yanking it closed behind him.

Everyone except Doc and Will climbed in; Doc staying behind to cycle them through comms and make sure the safehouse stayed ready to go when- if- they needed medical. Will lingered too, clutching a small backpack, still looking as if he could see Steve, looking like someone trying to send a prayer out through eyes alone. Wayne reached out and squeezed Will’s shoulder. “You watch those screens, boy. We’ll be quick.” It was the kind of lie that wasn’t meant to fool anyone.

Steve tried to make himself small, tried not to touch anyone, the rifle sitting heavy between his knees. The space was cramped and too warm, the hum of the idling engine underlining every small sound: the rustle of zippers, the soft clack of magazines, a breath drawn too sharp. He sat there and let the world arrange itself around him. Boots against vinyl, the thud of Melody’s hands tapping a rhythm on the wheel, Hopper’s low murmur as he checked over a map, Murray’s throat clearing like some loud animal. They were all present, all tense.

He played with the earpiece, tuning it down to a narrow thread in his ear. Will’s voice checking in, Doc informing them of how often channels will be switching and how to do check-ins. All of it was background noise really as he tried to tune it all out.

Melody eased the van onto the path and the world outside turned into trees and dusk and the slow, loping rhythm of the highway once they turned onto it. Streetlights blurred past in a smear of color. Inside, the van felt smaller with every mile. They were taking the long way, trying to make sure they couldn’t be tracked back as they waited for the last of daylight to fade.

His senses, already feeling raw, began to spool tight like a wire. The scents- sweat, leather, coffee gone cold, the flattened sweetness of someone’s nervous breath- slotted across his tongue one by one. He could smell Wayne’s aftershave, clean and warm; Hopper’s cigarette tang, like an apology; Joyce’s lavender scent, tired and stout; Murray’s cheap cologne trying to pretend it was courage. The kids smelled like fear, gum, and the annoying tang of adolescence. Melody’s presence was a crisp mechanical scent of oil, plastic, and the faint perfume of something floral- she smelled like movement, like plans already in motion.

He shut it out. Tuned inward, narrowed his mind, focused.

-Not them. Eddie.- The thought wasn’t a sentence so much as a pulse. -Find Eddie. Now.- He counted, in a way- not in breaths, not the easy method Doc recommended- but steps to the lab, the turns, the rooms: elevators, steps from the showers to his room, how far it was from Brenner’s interrogation room to his old cell. Images flicked beneath his eyelids and he stacked them like bricks: the torture room’s bright urethane, the clink of metal, a low hum like machinery breathing. Steve clenched his eyes until he saw spots, until the world reduced to the rhythm of Eddie. Find Eddie.

Conversations slid through the van, content and free. Dustin tried, quietly, to light the air with something about the plan they’d made, voice brittle with bravado. Lucas chimed in about routes, confident and anxious. Mike made some nervous joke and then swallowed it down when Wayne’s eyes met his through the mirror. Nancy and Jonathan were trading quiet notes on the distance from the treeline to the guard tower. Eleven sat still as stone, fingers curled into Hopper’s shirt. Hopper murmured quietly, checking watch times, and telling Murray which routes they should expect more guards on if they were unlucky.

Steve let it all wash over him and discarded it like an old cloth. He let fingers trail over the side of his rifle, feeling the cold, the ridges worn by use. The weapon was comforting in his hands. He felt- irrationally, vividly- that if he could feel the cold metal against his palm, he could reach Eddie’s heat somewhere inside the lab and drag it back out.

He thought of the way Eddie laughed, loud and reckless, how the sound sat in his chest like an ember. He imagined Eddie’s hands- the calluses on his fingers from guitar strings, the flare of his knuckles when he held a pick- everything so painfully ordinary it shook him. -You’re still there, still alive. You have to be.- The thought scraped at him, raw.

Melody kept the van at a steady pace. There was something about her now that made him watch the small movements of her face: the way the smile had hardened into focus, the brief flinch when Doc flicked over a new frequency, static filling their ears for a moment as he adjusted it. She had a million little panels and blinking lights arranged like stars in front of her. That same upbeat undercurrent was still there, but wedged beneath it was gravity; she wasn’t naive.

Steve hated that he’d ever thought she was, because she understood survival the same way Wayne did- with jokes as bandages and steel behind a softened voice.

The trees thickened the further they went, shadows thickening around them. The road narrowed to a thin vein through the dark. Melody took a left where the map said “gravel,” then another where it said “unmarked”. The van slowed to a crawl, tires breathing through leaves. The world outside condensed into trunks and rods of moonlight.

His thoughts were becoming dangerous, leaking around the edges of rational plans. -They have him somewhere under those shitty humming lights. The ones that are too loud, too bright, it’ll drive him insane. No. Absolutely not. I’ll find you before that happens. I’ll find you. He’s.. He’s chained. I saw his face! I saw him!- Each thought slammed into him as he tried to fight them back, recounting details instead of emotions like a man trying to stay afloat: a meal slot on the doors, and ID number on a guard, the way the corridors shifted at level nineteen.

Slowly Melody eased the van off the road again, sliding between the trees on a path only she knew. The engine seemed to run softer now, just a hiss in the night. No headlights pierced the trees as they clicked off before they’d turned down their path. The only light was a low glow coming from the center console and the occasional flicker of one of the lights tucked into the ceiling.

She pulled the van into a shallow cutout where the ground leveled just enough to cradle the van behind the trees. It was small, nearly swallowed by vines and moss- the kind of hiding place the lab’s patrols would overlook. Melody’s hands were steady as she killed the engine, and everything dropped into a heavy silence.

Someone- he didn’t know who, Murray? Dustin maybe?- made a joke about being like a ninja and immediately regretted it when no one laughed. The van suddenly sounded cavernous, all metal and breath.

He stayed still, grip tight around the rifle. Every drumming heartbeat, small and human, boomed in his ears. He could have reached out and smothered them all with a palm before they’d even know he’d moved. But he didn’t instead, he curled his fingers around the strap until his knuckles went white forcing himself to breathe, once in, once out.

Melody turned in the dark, his eyes narrowing to watch her movements. “I’ll keep it parked here, though it’s still a bit of a walk. In an emergency, homebase can lead you back if you’re lost. Just remember.. Keep quiet, keep close, and come back alive.” She glanced around like she was trying to see them, but the van was too dark.

Steve had enough, he pushed the door open and rolled out of it, stretching where he landed, letting his bones pop. Wayne’s hand found his shoulder as if on reflex- he hadn’t even heard the others climb out. But he leaned into it, reaching up to squeeze back. They could do this. He stood there for a moment with the van’s open doors framing his silhouette: boots, fitted dark clothes, the weight slung across his back. There was a strong taste of metal in his mouth, a copper tang that blended with adrenaline and grief. For a second it was so loud he feared his inside would just turn into noise. -You hold it together. You breathe, he needs you. Save him, make them pay.- He growled, words repeating like a cracked record.

With a nod to himself, Steve quietly closed the door and slowly pulled the rifle off his shoulder, giving it to Wayne. “I’ll need free movement if we come across anyone.” He whispered. “Let’s get moving… Everyone stay low, and stay silent.” With that he turned and led them away from the van and into the hush of trees. Branches whispering overhead as something alive shifted in the dark.

His boots crunched on dead leaves, jaw flexing pressing himself tight against the trees, body coiled tight as he focused all his senses forward. Steve could smell the earth, the trees, the faint sour of fear- but underneath, when the wind hit just right, there was a phantom- a ghost of leather and conditioner that made his throat swell and hands itch. It was Eddie, in pieces: the scent of sweat after training, the faint musk of a warm denim jacket. It slipped by like the edge of a blade, and he lunged for it, chased it with his mind. But for miles in every direction.. Nothing.

So they continued on moving in slow, deliberate drifts through the dark of night. It was a perfect night for him- minus the fact Eddie was gone- the moon was hiding, the trees were thick, the wind was coming at him instead of away. He cut a line through the trees, seemed to know when to duck under branches no one else could see, to skirt around thickets, he knew how to weave them through the shadows. Every sound was amplified here. Just a twig snapping under his boot had everyone reaching for a weapon.

The night folded in on them, caressed them, protected them. But his head still felt full of static and small lights- the map in his mind growing sharper with every step. He let himself get wrapped up into the cadence of the group, silence and taut, the only voice he allowed being the one inside his head. -Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.-

They came to a stop at his signal, a quick palm up. No one moved. They pressed themselves into the thick trees -too clumsy. Like baby animals learning to be still.- In that held breath he thought of a dozen terrible endings and one exacting, furious plan. The van sat growing further and further behind them. Ahead, the lab loomed. He closed his eyes, stretched his senses, tried to feel the woods.

With a nod to himself he squared his shoulder. They were in for a long walk still- far enough that patrols didn’t bother, close enough they’d still have to burn through the dark and push hard to remain undetected. The night narrowed down to one breath at a time, one step, one name -Eddie.-

“We’re good.” His whisper was hoarse, barely loud enough for human ears, but it cut through their panic. Steve pushed himself away from the tree and moved like a shadow uncoiling. “But their sounds travel, we’re gonna run into a patrol soon. So keep low. Keep quiet. I don’t care what thoughts or ideas you have, save it.” He turned to glare back at them, the low light catching the hard planes of his face, eyes almost luminous in the gloom. “If I have to kill anyone, you stay quiet. No screaming, no crying, don’t even shout to warn me someone’s behind me. That’ll just draw more.”

Not waiting for anyone to answer, he just started moving. Each step had his thoughts turning sharper, stinging worse than the cold surging through him. -Just a little longer, babe. I’m coming, I swear. I’ll tear through hell to get you out, rip their throats out if they’ve hurt you. Don’t you dare give into them. Just.. Just hang on.- The want in him had teeth. He wanted to snarl until the whole forest flattened, until the birds scattered and the animals fled in fear. He wanted to scream, to run, to… He wanted to tear through concrete and bone if that’s what it took. Slowly he flexed his fingertips until his claws slid free with a quiet snickt. It felt correct, inevitable.

He needed to be ready. -I’ll rip you from those chains again. I’ll make sure they never come after us again. I’ll fucking- snap. He looked down, a branch shattered clean under his palm and the sharp sound echoed far too loud around them. They all froze. A dozen bodies tensed, the scent of fear spiked the air, and for a split second every hallucination, every memory, crowded in: Eddie’s laugh in the back of Doc’s van, Eddie’s shoulder against his, the small warmth of a hand that had been ripped away. His jaw clenched until his teeth threaded to crack. -Opps.-

Everyone reached for a weapon. The kids went for their pocket knives, Hopper’s hand went to his hip, Wayne grabbed for his knife, Joyce went for her shotgun, everyone went to grab something. “Stop being so jumpy.” He snapped- a low, animal thing, more growled than whispered. “I’ll hear them before they see you. But not if you keep being so loud. So. Stop. Fidgeting.” One by one their hands dropped back to their sides.

With narrowed eyes, he nodded and continued on. They moved like shadows- or at least Steve did, everyone else was.. They were learning. Slowly, on how to be quiet, how to be dangerous, but they were still too obvious. He allowed his palms to lightly brush the trees as they passed.

The further they got, the tighter the woods grew around them. A green-black canopy hiding away what little sliver of moon attempted to peak out. A place where every sound was exaggerated: a twig giving way in the distance, the whisper of leaves, the far off rush of something squirming through dried out leaves. The summer air sat like a wet blanket on his skin, thick and slow, and far too full of insects, though they kept off him. The heat pressed at the back of his throat; sweat slicking down his back and across his shoulders. Even breathing felt dangerous.

He leads them, not with showmanship but with small, carved patience. His feet know where to fall, which parts of the earth would make less noise than others. Wayne is a constant presence, just a step behind him- the earthbound counterbalance to whatever is unraveling inside him. Hopper, as discussed, brings up the rear, the only other one whose measured silence reads as command. Everyone else is a smear of nervous energy: Dustin fidgeting with a map, Lucas scanning shadows, Mike trying too hard to look calm. Robin was tight-lipped and watchful, Eleven moving with a quiet that is almost louder than any of them, Jonathan beside her with eyes that kept sliding to Steve. Nancy was hard-eyed watching around them all, Murray was for once silent, and Joyce kept checking over everyone the way only a mother could.

Steve could feel every heart beating in the little chain behind him. Each one a tiny drum in the dark and they thrum at him like an uneven chorus of questions he doesn’t want to answer. He could taste them: the rancid taste of fear clinging to the back of his throat, the sharpness of determination burning down, worry like something small and all too bright. He hates being responsible for them in a way that feels like a physical ache- he didn’t ask for this. But he couldn’t let them down. Couldn’t let Eddie down. Not now.

A new smell smacked into him, carried on a cool sliver of breeze. Oil, sweat, cigarette smoke, leather, metal, a human stink spiced with something chemical. Their luck had to run out eventually. He breathes through his nose and swivels toward it, focused on it. Two pairs of boots, distant and kicking though dead leaves. He inhales again, and the scent blooms, sticky and wrong in his chest.

“Two men. East… Northeast, maybe three hundred yards.” He whispers without looking back, fingers tapping a silent rhythm onto the tree he grabbed. The words are small, almost too quiet to be heard. There’s a spoke of motion behind him- the teens bunching tighter, pressing themselves together as if they could become one. He can hear Hopper’s jaw clench, Wayne’s hand sliding to his rifle. Everyone had fallen as quiet as they could, as if they could force themselves to fold thinner than air, to remain unseen.

Steve hates the fact that he’s had to set the pace. Hates being anchor and leash and compass all at once. He’s a coiled thing that wants to spring and shred, not think or strategize. The longer they move in slow, careful steps, the more the thing inside him claws, begging to get out. His thoughts sharpened into a jointed, jealous edge.

-If I’d been alone, I’d be there now. I could have gotten him myself. God, I could have ripped through them. Instead, I’m babysitting a parade of scared kids. I’m carrying this stupid plan, these idiots. And Eddie is chained like meat under their grubby hands. Every second I waste is another second they can break him. Every minute here is a minute their knives skin deeper, their words sharper, their hands…-

The thoughts made his muscles tense, claws itching to rip to tear, fangs feeling like small betrayals waiting to drop. But he forces them to stay back -not yet, not yet-, stares hard at the ground, and times his breaths like a metronome: in, out, soft and even. He cannot afford mistakes. The idea of panicking and wrecking this for everyone flashes so hard and stupid that it merely makes him laugh. A brittle, bitter sound.

He guides them away from the patrol, along deer tracks where the ground is forgiving. He avoids the root-lattices that will snag boots and the crunch of the brittle dead beds that would echo their location. He uses the large trunks they come across as shields, the low clumps of rhododendron as blinders, his body a living map of where shadows pool thick enough for men to melt into. Steve points, once, with a tilt of his chin, and the team slips into a small dip- a shallow rabbit run that will carry them with the slope of the land, invisible from the road and just near enough to the new fence line for their escape later.

Each step is a negotiation with his own mind. He could feel the pull to spring like a physical thing- muscles demanding the release of movement, the rush of blood, and the certainty of reaching him. For a second, he hates the others for their caution, then hates himself for thinking it. He’d burn the world down, burn down every hallway, every floor, just to get Eddie back, just to hold him again, even for a second. But his fury without teeth is just stupid. Fury with air that- that is craft.

The soft switch of boots again- closer this time. A patrol shifting closer- two pairs converging. Their laughs carried to him muted, radios chittering quietly, their cadence beating like a human clock.

Suddenly he drops down, holding himself taut. Behind him, the others copied slower, less graceful, bodies folding as small as they could. Little bugs scatter, wings shining in the dark as they flutter away, and for a second his mind pops a picture of Eddie’s face lit in that way. It hits him hard enough he wants to vomit.

-You fucking idiot! Calm. Down. Don’t break now. Don’t let them see you panic, don’t let your hands shake. Breathe, Harrington… For Eddie.-

He could hear the patrol’s growing closer, long before the others did- the soft, rubbered rhythm of their boots rolling through leaf littered soil like distant thunder. Then the others caught it too, that low roll of sound drawing closer, they all held tense, some reeked of fear. Voices ghosted through the still air, thin and echoing. The words themselves didn’t matter. It let him know how many, where they were, and if they were walking, or searching. These are walking men; their steps too even to be hunting someone down. Just a routine patrol.. For now.

If they pass, they pass.

If they didn’t-

His gut clenched. If they glance this way and notice them… Steve could already hear the crackle of radios, the shouted orders, the sharp slice of gunfire tearing through the night. He kept his face a blank mask.

He knew how to wear masks.
The charming idiot, the careless jock, the annoyed big brother, the terrified kid.
Tonight, though, he wore something else entirely- something colder, carved from pain and restraint. The calloused professional.
Or maybe… Maybe that’s all he’s ever been. Maybe Steve Harrington was just another mask- a pretty face he put on to make everyone else feel safe. Maybe the real him was the one crouched in the dark now, jaw clenched, heartbeat barely there, the monster he was so carefully holding back.

Wayne shifted beside him, a low murmur meant only for inhuman ears- I’ve got your back. The quiet assurance steadied him more than it should have. Wayne’s touch was soft; it was solid, the weight of the world pressing into him being held back one one simple gesture. Steve let himself lean into it for just a heartbeat. He’d always tried to seek the comfort of soft things, but that wasn’t Wayne, not now, now the man was bedrock in boots. And when Wayne thumbed his rifle humming quietly to himself- an old habit of war- Steve thinks he can get through this. Can keep himself together until they’re all back safe.

With a shake of his head, he glanced back at them all. A clawed hand raising, sharp against the dark. A signal, if they got close, he’d handle it. Quietly.

The boots reach the edge of the creek they’d hidden around. One pair splashed through the shallow water. There was no pause, no hesitation, their conversation continuing like nothing was wrong. Their voices carried toward them still as they disappeared into the trees, then faded off slowly, swallowed by the night. The stench of gun oil and sweat lifted off on the wind, fading slowly. Steve’s jaw unclenched, but he doesn’t breathe out until the last footstep is too far away for humans to hear. He waited until full count of ten before pushing himself up.

“Move,” he whispers finally, voice thin, almost growling. “Stay close, stay low. If we keep pace it’ll be about twelve more minutes to the lookout spot.”

They responded like trained animals, pressing tightly together, following without complaint. The night pressed in on them, dense and dripping with the summer heat. Diesel drifted faintly across the air, sharp and acrid. The ground sucked at their boots, sweat slicked his palms.

Inside, his thoughts were a sharp current coiled tight.

-If I could go faster, I would. I’d tear through their fences. Slice them all down with my claws. Rip out their throats. Every second wasted is a second he’s being tortured. Why do I have to hold back? Why do I have to pretend to be careful when everything in me screams to destroy? Why am I not allowed to let go? To save the man I love? Because they’re counting on me? Because they trust me? And God help me if I let them down. I never fucking asked for it! I never asked for any of them to follow me here!-

He guided them along a narrow dip in the earth that they’ll use to funnel them out to the back road later, claws scraping against dirt and rock. The trees eventually started to thin, letting through pale light from the sliver of moon. The lab’s distant hum growing louder and louder the closer they got, until it became a bone-deep bass as they skirted the edge of the trees- a vibration he could feel in his teeth, a pulse in the earth itself. For a second the world is only sound and smell and the heat glowing at the edge of his skin like the memory of fire.

They moved until the trees parted to reveal a distant line of darker shadows ahead. Doc’s voice whispered through the comms that they’d need to circle back around, use it as their way into the lab. There was nothing remarkable about it; no alarms, no lights, just a seemingly endless black hole waiting for them.

At the lip of the treeline, they stopped. Moonlight breaking through a crack in the canopy, falling sharp in bright pale light across their faces. Eleven squints into it, mouth set, Jonathan’s hand on her elbow a steady weight. Hopper exhales once, a ghost of a breath. Dustin swallowed hard, teeth clicking. Wayne met his eyes again- a silent, wordless pact between them: we do this together.

Steve pressed his palm tight to the rough bark of an old oak, grounding himself. For a moment, the world narrowed to that touch. To the scent of sap and soil. He closed his eyes to the flicker of a memory- not the lab this time, not the worst of his thoughts- to Eddie’s stupid grin at two in the morning, the way Eddie’s eyes crinkled when he laughs, the way Eddie would shove his shoulder before dragging him in close. The images are a splinter of light that slides under his ribs and make him both more whole and more broken.

-One step. One push. One room at a time. Don’t rush. Don’t.. Don’t kill the… Don’t get them killed. Don’t get him killed. Get him back. Bring him home.-

He opened his eyes, and gave a tight signal.

They slipped forward, boots whispering through the grass as he led them around to the vintage point. They came to a large circle of trees, just in the line of sight from the back side of the lab. He crouched beside a tree and turned back around looking at Robin, Lucas, and Mike. “You three’ll stay here. Stay quiet. Only talk when absolutely necessary.” His voice was a whisper that barely carried beyond them. Three nods. Three unspoken promises.

Steve stood slowly, back pressed against the tree and held his hands clasped in front of him. Robin’s fingers trembled when she caught his arm. He helped her up the trunk first, then Lucas, then Mike. He helped all three up the thick tree, settled them as high as was safe, making sure the trees around them swallowed the group in darkness. “Patrols are gonna come through here eventually,” he murmured. “So stay low, keep quiet.” He eyes the three of them. “Run if it gets bad.” He added, softer, but they still heard it, knew what it meant. “Do. Not. Come after us.”

The quiet plea hung between them. They understood.

With that he dropped from the tree soundlessly, the leaves hardly stirring. He didn’t look back, couldn’t. The weight of their eyes followed him anyway.

The rest of them moved on- through tanged roots, under thick branches, through nettles that clawed at their legs. Every step from the group behind him sounded too loud, too fragile. His nerves stretched thin, every sound a nail dragging against his skin. -Too loud. Too heavy. Too human. They’re holding me back.-

His mind flicked back to the thin line of shadows they’d passed earlier- movement just at the edge of his vision, the glint of a man’s weapon on the roof. He stopped abruptly, palm up, body tense. He forced out a quiet breath, feeling the pulse of earth beneath them, the shift of air, stretching his hearing as far as he could, listening for anything at all. But nothing came. Just leaves shaking in the wind. Just crickets trying to sing over the heaviness of summer air. No boots, no blood, no guards. -Yet.-

Exhaling too loudly he rolled his neck, letting it pop. -They’re focusing on the front. Idiots think I’m stupid enough to come in the same way we’d got out.-

He signaled them forward again, weaving through the trees like a hunting animal. The hot night pressed in on him, sticking to his skin. Out here even the air felt like it wanted to drown him, but maybe it was just the weight of the lab. Sweat gathered between his shoulder blades, sticking his already tight shirt to skin. But his movements stayed precise, planned. It did nothing to quell the sharp cold inside him. Ahead, the treeline darkened- their next vantage point. This was it, no turning back.

He led them back near the edge of the trees at the rear of the lab, crouching low, Wayne stopping beside him. Steve accepted back his rifle, fingers curling around it as though it might bite. It felt… Wrong. He stared at it for once of his slow heartbeats, feeling the cool metal against his palm. -Wrong… Wrong.. This is.. This is wrong. This isn’t what I am. This isn’t what’s going to get him back.-

Steve took a calming breath, forcing his heart to stay in that slow unnatural pace. -This is wrong.- And he knew what would feel right… He knew what he had to do. Glancing down at Wayne, lying on his stomach, lining up his sight. A look back at Hopper crouched low, at Joyce, Nancy, Jonathan, Eleven, Murray, at Dustin.. All of them waiting, trusting him. All of them in his way. He knew what he had to do. Even if they hated him for it.

“There’s no guards on this side.” He whispered, comms echoing it back into his ear. He motioned to the towers. “Just those guys… At least for a few miles.”

He laid the rifle down, fingers gentle on Wayne’s shoulder, just for a second. Then he stood up, slowly, reaching to remove the sword from his hip, he let it fall beside Wayne. “I’m sorry.” It crackled through the comms, barely audible past the breeze.

Wayne’s head shot up. “Steve?” He tried not to focus on how scared it sounded.

“I can’t have you all in the way.” He started to back away, slowly.

“Harrington,” Hopper hissed. “You can’t honestly think you can do this alone, you need-”

“What the hell is he doing?!” Robin’s voice, sharp and scared, broke through, whispered harshly through his earpiece.

“I’m not holding back anymore.” Steve hissed into his mic, the words fraying at the edges. “And you can’t stop me.. I’m sorry. Just… Hold your positions. I can do this.” He thumbed the mic down to a whisper, then off entirely. Their voices became ghosts in his ear, hurriedly whispered, almost shouting, but just noise. Nothing but noise now.

He’d ran before they could move to stop him.

He moved like an animal loose from its cage, like a shadow unraveling through the trees. At an inhuman speed, but staying low, silent, claws curling and flexing. Bark shredded under his fingers as he leapt over roots and rolled under branches. -Could’ve been there by now. Could’ve had him. All this waiting, all this dragging. Holding me back. Slowing me down.-

Steve snuck up to the edge of the lab, skirted around where he knew the security cameras were, kept to the shadows. He hardly stopped for a second to think before slamming his claws into brick, the lab rising like a monolith in the dark. He’d never done this before, hard’t.. -No. Stop. Get Eddie.- He couldn’t afford to have second thoughts. Couldn’t slow down. He scaled the wall, claws biting into stone as if it were paper. Up, up, up, heart pounding like a warm drum through his ears. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark as he hung just under the roof, breath held, listening.

Three heartbeats, two far off on either side, one above him. One wrong move, one breath out of place, and Eddie would be gone. Forever. -Not losing him. Not again. Not ever.-

His lips twitched in a silent snarl as he pulled himself up, just an inch, eyes peaking over the edge. One guard, it’ll be easy. They trained for worse, one would be nothing. He could take out the other two, sure, but one might notice before and that was too risky. Slowly, quietly, he launched himself up and over, body landing against the roof with barely a push of air. The guard’s boots scraped gravel just a few feet away, binoculars up, back turned. Oblivious.

“Steve! Please, you can’t do this man, we can-” he thumbed the earpiece turning it all the way down, but not off. Crouching, head down, claws flexing. Steve kept low, kept himself unnoticeable as he took silent steps forward. -Planned this with you, Eds. Planned every way in, every way out. You’d be proud of me… You’d hate me for this. For leaving Wayne. For not giving them the way inside. Don’t be mad… Please.-

The guard, a burly man in an ill-fitting uniform, was muttering to himself about the long hours as he scanned the woods below, oblivious to what was about to happen. Steve’s lips twitched into a toothy smirk. The man shuffled, boots scraping as he angled now fully away from the danger behind him. His last mistake. Steve’s fangs dropped with a faint click, long and sharp. He curled his fingers, feeling the prickle of claws against his palm.

Slowly, he stretched his hand out, reaching deep for that coiled piece of him deep inside, and pulled. The man skidded backwards, heels scraping. “What the-?!” The man stammered, arms flailing uselessly, hands scrambling for the radio at his hip. But Steve flicked his wrist and the device went clattering across the roof.

In a blur of motion, he pounced, body a steak of feral energy. He slammed into the guard’s back and before the man could even gasp, Steve flipped him around, claws sinking into flesh. Blood sprayed in a hot arc across gravel. The impact sent them both skidding forward, gravel kicking up as they tumbled down. The man’s eyes widened in terror, a choked grunt escaping as Steve’s weight crushed him to the roof. But the man’s scream was cut short as Steve slammed his bloodied clawed hand over his mouth, pinning his head down.

Steve’s head tilted, a deranged chuckle bubbling in his throat. -All mine. All mine. You took him, so you lose.. Everything!- He threw his leg over the man, using both knees to pin his thighs.

He looked down at the hand scrabbling to grab him, and slashed down with his free hand, tearing through the man’s wrist with surgical brutality. Flesh split open, blood spraying across him and the rooftop. The man tried to scream again but he only tightened his grip, listening to the man’s teeth crack. “Shhh.” He rubbed a blood coated claw over the man’s cheek, nostrils flaring as he took in the warm scent of blood.

“You shouldn’t’ve been up here.” He hissed, voice dripping with malice, vibrating with barely contained mania. “Should’ve stayed inside with your little pals.. Now look at you.” He leaned in close, breath ghosting over the man’s ear. “You shouldn’t have touched what’s mine.”

The guard tried to open his mouth, a plea forming on his tongue. But Steve didn’t give him a chance. He plunged his fangs deep into the man’s throat with a sickening crunch, piercing through sinew and muscle. Blood filled his mouth, hot, metallic, and oh so rich with fear, flooding his senses, drowning his restraint. He drank greedily, each swallow another beat closer to Eddie, each gulp fueling the fire building in his veins. The guard’s body spasmed beneath him, good hand weakly trying to claw at the roof, but his strength was draining fast.

Forcing himself to pull back for a moment, blood dripping down his chin, staining his lips a violent red as it rolled down his neck. His eyes were practically glowing, gleaming with madness as he stared down at the guard’s pale, trembling face. “Shh, shh,” he cooed mockingly, drawing a claw down the side of the man’s face, slicing a thin, bloody line. “No noise. Don’t want your buddies hearing, now do we?” He leaned in, grinning all bloodied teeth. “I’ve got someone special to save tonight.”

The guard’s weak breath hitched, gurgling as blood bubbled from the wounds on his neck. Steve slid his free hand down the man’s chest and dug in, claws raking through fabric and flesh with savage precision. Ribs cracking under the pressure, a wet, splintering sound that echoed faintly in the still night. The man tried to flail, tried to scream, but Steve held firm. His fingers curled inward now, tearing into softer tissue, ensuring there’d be no recovery, no alarm raised. Blood pooled beneath them, slick, dark, and soaking into the gravel.

“Gonna get him back, mmhm.” With a final, shuddering gasp, the guard went still, eyes staring blankly in horror at the starless sky. Steve lingered for a moment, chest heaving, fangs still bared as he licked the last of the blood from his lips. The kill was messy, visceral, but necessary. And if he was willing to admit it… Fun. He wiped his claws on the guard’s torn uniform, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

Below, the two guards in their towers remained oblivious, their distant chatter carried on the wind and through the radio discarded somewhere across the roof.

His gaze briefly flicked to the woods behind them, then back to the body below him. Mind churning with an obsessive singular thought: Get. Him. Back. The taste of blood only sharpening his resolve. With an inaudible huff, Steve picked the body up and shoved it behind a vent carelessly. No time for finesse. No time for anything but Eddie. -Hold on love.- His thoughts turned soft, smile almost happy as he rubbed the back of his hand across his blood covered mouth. -I’m coming for you.-

Ignoring the whispered shouting still bleeding through the turned-down comm. It was just background noise now. With his sole focus being Eddie, he turned to the large exterior vent, easily ripping the cover free. One foot in, then the other, sliding down the curve, using his claws to slow his descent so as not to slam down and alert anyone he was there.

Steve dropped down as fast as he could with minimal noise. -Gonna come get you. Gonna kill annnnyone who stops me. Gonna see you again. My Eddie.- He smiled to himself almost dreamily as he came to the curve, dropping gently down onto his feet. Getting low on his knees, he crawled through the next part, metal searing hot around him, sweat running down his spine. -Forgot vents were so hot. But that’s okay! Anything to find you.-

A chuckle threatened to rise but he swallowed it down, because no one could know he was here. Not yet. Not until it was too late for them. He took a subtle breath in then, letting his senses stretch- heartbeats everywhere, a living map of prey. -But where’s my Eddie?- He pouted, nostrils flaring as the overwhelming stench of humans itched at his nose.

Steve managed to get to the end of the vent with relative ease. At the last vent, he peaked through the slits. -Hmm.. Where oh where is my- he held himself still as a group of guards passed, armed to the teeth. He wanted to growl, to drop down and slice their throats, to.. He reached up to his mic and clicked it on the moment they passed.

“Camera’s better be looping.” He hissed into it before thumbing the mic right back off, ignoring the panicked shouting in his ear, their calls for him to come back, to stick to the plan. -No. No going back, no waiting.- He heard Doc’s warning, then the subtle agreement that he’d loop the camera. Then a quiet countdown for it, he ignored the rest of them.

At the end of the countdown, he gave it one more moment, let the gaurds get a few more steps away. -Gonna find you. Gonna bring you home. Gonna give you allll my love.- He practically sang through his mind as he pried up the vent cover, metal bending under his claws in a direction it definitely did not want to go. -Two minute loop.- He nodded to himself.

Throwing his legs out, he used the edge of the vent to brace himself as he dropped down, hanging there for a second, before letting his boots land soundlessly. His body thrummed with giddy, dark energy. Each step forward was a step closer to Eddie. Closer to being them again.

His claws twitched against his palms, aching for something to tear into as the stale air of the lab rose up around him, heavy and cloying- sterile cleaner mixed with sweat, blood, fear. He straightened slowly, eyes narrowing as they adjusted to the sudden light, and let his senses expand out again.

Heartbeats everywhere, a cacophony of soft thuds. They skittered around his skull like insects, dozens of them, maybe hundreds, some near, many far. The smell of the lab was whole now, clogging his nose- cheap soap, cold metal, a faint scent of panic. And underneath it all, faint and hidden away, a ghost of something warming. Something that made his gut clench.

Eddie.

He thought he’d caught it, but then it slipped away. Gone again.

-Where’s my Eddie? Where’s my Eddie? Where is my Edddddie?- He sang to himself, over and over.

Steve kept low as he began to move forward, body coiled tight ready to spring on anyone who dared get in his way, every step measured and silent. The vent above him rattled faintly from where he’d forced it open. But he continued on, skating along the wall, claws biting faintly into concrete for balance. Every few feet he paused, listening hard. Boots thudded far away, guards muttering to one another, the crackle of electricity alive behind secure doors. He heard it all, tasted it all, felt it all itching under his skin.

-Could’ve been there already. Could’ve had him already. If I was alone, I’d be there by now. You were slowing me down. All of you. Always holding me back. Can’t stop me now. Won’t stop me now.-

His lips curled into a faint, bloodstained grin. -What did they say? Two minutes?- He nodded to himself and continued on. Copper still coated his tongue, sweet and bitter, a reminder. He ran a claw along the wall as he walked, leaving a deep gouge in the paint.

This floor was a complete unknown to him, but it didn’t matter. All he needed to find was a vent. All he needed was a way down to Eddie. As he was rounding a corner he paused, lifting his nose to scent the air faintly… Nothing. Then what was..?.. A soft hiss came from the previous room. He clicked his tongue -almost missed you- and turned back to the room.

It was surprisingly unlocked. Steve gently pulled the door open and peered inside. -Maintenence.- With a single nod to himself he squeezed in, pushing the door quietly shut behind him. He ducked under a hanging pipe, climbed over a hissing mass of metal. All to get to the small opening at the far wall. It took no effort to yank the cover off. With a low growl he pulled his shoulders in, and pressed into the narrow space.

He tried to imagine the floor, tried to remember if he’d seen it in his dreams. At the first corner he dropped and pressed his head to the ground, eyes closing as he listened. Two guards, maybe three, their boots on tile now, not concrete. The weight and rhythm of their hearts told him how tired they were, how tense. How human.

Inhaling deeply, he tried to separate scents. Sweat, gun oil, a half-eaten sandwich, and fear. Somewhere far below, something that smelled like Eddie’s hair in the sun, like Eddie’s laugh caught in his collar. It made his fangs ache. -Almost there, baby. Almost there. I’ll rip ‘em apart for you, burn this place down. I’ll bring you home, give you every drop of blood you need. Just hold on.-

He caught himself smiling again, a crooked, feral thing. His claws flexed against the metal, leaving thin gouges as he crawled across a stretch of grated floor. The vent stretched before him, dark and narrow, lined with vents, lights beaming up through slits. It seemed never ending.

The further he went, the hotter it got. And the air was practically boiling now, stifling worse than the woods had been, heavier too. Sweat running down his spine, down the back of his neck, but he barely felt it. His mind was a knife's edge, heart slowed to a predator's beat. He crawled forward as quietly as he could, each move deliberate, controlled. His eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the dim lights below, and he let himself listen again at the last vent. He could hear the guards moving- two pairs of boots somewhere ahead, crossing left to right. Their radios hissed static, garbled voices.

With another nod to himself, Steve pulled himself around the next turn, dropped down the next chute, moved with a single narrowed focus: Find Eddie. But each time he took a deep breath, nothing. Just the thick smell of sweat, of humans.

Where’s. Eddie.

-If they’ve- he sucked in a sharp breath as suddenly, somewhere below, an alarm began to wail, echoing through the vents, screeching through his ears. He wanted to growl at the utter stupidity of the others as he could hear their panicked shouts in his earpiece, their calls on where to go. -Idiots! I said I had it!- So much for stealth.

At the end of the vent he watched as guards rushed past below, heavy boots hammering against concrete. He listened to their angry shouts, their confusion, their directions being barked into radios. He waited for them to pass, gave them a second before pushing open the grate. He slid down the wall, landing with a heavy thud.

Steve didn’t hesitate to rush down the hall in the opposite direction of where they were running to. In the direction he hoped Eddie was. He kept low, pressed himself against the walls, into the shadows. He adjusted the knife in his boot as he went, its weight a silent promise to be there if- when- he needed it.

There was a small stairwell that took him three floors down, the door giving a heavy thud against the wall as he used his claws to jam it open. The alarm kept screeching down empty halls as guards ran toward the breach. Red flickered somewhere deeper in the building, spilling a thin glow under doorways, splashing his boots in pulses of blood-colored light as he passed. -Sublevel twenty three, just find it. Get there. Get him.- But there were still windows up here, still too far away.

Padding forward on silent feet, he crouched low, for a second he let himself lean his head against the cool metal of a door. Just for a second. He whispered so low only his own ears could catch it: “I’m coming, Eds. I’m coming.”

The words vibrated in his chest like a promise.

-Going to tear them apart. Gonna make them regret it. Gonna find you sweetheart, hold you, get you out. Nothing else. Nothing else matters.-

Steve rose again and slipped forward, keeping close to the ground, shoulder brushing the wall as he kept tight to it, claws scraping against the cracking grey paint when he moved too quickly. “I’ve been here before.” He whispered to himself, nodding as if needing the confirmation. “Eddie.. Eddie had been with me then. Eddie had known how to help me. How to.. To keep me from going too far.” -Had that been a dream? Or…- But now it was just him, him and the echoes of Eddie’s voice in his head. -C’mon Harrington we have to go. Don’t breathe too loud, Harrington. You’re not a monster, Harrington.- The memories were blurred, wrong but right, they made him laugh just under his breath, a rough broken little sound that startled him.

The next stairwell door was shoved open with a little too much force. He pressed his palm flat to the wall, lifting his head to scent the air blowing up from below. He could smell Eddie more strongly now- faint but there, like a ghost dragging him forward. His chest felt tight again, but he pushed on, down the stairs, two at a time. Following the thin red flashing lights that came from somewhere down below.

Steve carefully eased past a door on the next landing. Behind it, someone shouted. A short, sharp sound that snapped through the silence like a whip. But he didn’t stop, didn’t even look. Only one heartbeat mattered. Only one scent mattered.

He was counting steps again, trying to prevent his mind from falling into an all too familiar pit. The next sign he passed glared back at him in faded red print: FLOOR THIRTEEN. -Thirteen. That’s it?- A growl curled low in his chest. -This is taking too damn long. I’ve only gone down… Seven floors?! And Eddie’s- He stopped the thought before it could finish, jaw locking. His body reacted before his mind did- head jerking up, claws flexing, muscles coiling like wire as the loud clang of a door above ripped through the stairwell. Heavy boots, dozens of them, thudded down the stairs.

There was no time.

With a snarl he looked over the railing, it plunged into the occasional red lighting below, the lights seeming to grow further and further. The shouts were getting closer, too close. His decision came without a second thought.

He leapt.

Feet first, body twisting in the air, wind rushing past screaming against his ears. -This is gonna hurt.- He thought as the world became a blur of steel and light, floors whipping past too fast to really count. -Ten more… Five… Three! Shit this better..!- He slammed his palm down toward his feet at the last second.

The floor shook with a deep, bone-jarring boom that made even the railings rattle from the impact. Metal screeched, concrete cracked out- but his boots hit the ground softer than they should have. -It.. It fucking worked!- He cheered inside, though outside he was standing frozen, staring down at his hand- claws still extended and slick with blood, trembling with the energy that coursed through him. His breath shuddered out, harsh in the dimly lit stairwell. He’d tried that only once before, jumping from the platform in the training room with Eddie, trying to use his powers to cushion their fall. It had barely been a success then.. Barely. This time… It felt clean. Almost natural.

But there was no time to think about that now. The shouting above had changed- confusion, barked orders. They’d heard the noise. He had to move. Quickly, turning to the nearest door, pressing his ear flat against it, drawing out the noise above he forced himself to listen. Two heartbeats, uneven and slow. One smelling of nerves, the other was breathing ragged, stinking of anxiety. They were walking their route like normal, to sure that whoever would be stopped upstairs. They thought they were safe.

Steve grinned, fangs flashing in the red gloom as the lights flashed over him. -Good. Be scared.- He took a quick glance at the faded paint, nodding to himself- SUBLEVEL FIVE. The grin widened, a little manic now. Quickly he thumbed on his mic growling out, “I’m underground, negative five. Go. Back.” Just as quick he clicked it off again. Voices burst to life in his ear, overlapping, panicked. Begging him to hold position, to wait, to come back. It was all just static buzzing like an annoying mosquito in his ear. They begged him to stick to the plan. -What plan? The half-assed one I gave just to keep you calm?-

He drowned them out, rolling his neck to try and relax. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, voice raw and thin. “I’m coming for you, just hold on a little longer.” He forced the door open, hinges shrieking from the force.

Boots hit cold, tiled floor with near silent clicks as he angled slightly to slip through the gap before yanking the warped frame closed behind him, bending it just enough that it wouldn’t open again. The air here was different- denser, humid, the tang of electricity sharp enough to sting his tongue. The hall ahead was bathed in pulsating red lights flashing in a now eerie silence. The alarm’s screeching had been severed, leaving only the oppressive quiet punctuated by the distant hum of machines. He forced his breathing to come closer, only taking in what he absolutely needed to scent the air. Eddie was closer now, he just knew it. But every passing second pulled at his already fraying edges.

Steve crouched low, body hunched and predatory, claws scraping faintly against the floor as he crept forward. The scent of blood- his, theirs, Eddie’s, it didn’t matter- hung heavy on his tongue. Doors lined the corridor, most sealed, some pushed slightly ajar with flickering fluorescent panels inside. His head turned to each faint flicker of motion, eyes wide, pupils too large. He slowly turned the corner, following the scent. There- up ahead- two figures.

Those nervous, too cocky guards. So sure he’d be taken out by those above.

The taller one was a hefty man with a gut straining against his uniform. The other thin, twitchy thing, a live wire barely contained in a uniform too big for him. The wiry one held his gun tight in shaking hands, the bigger one muttered something about their sweep pattern. Their boots echoed in the quiet. A slow rhythm. Predictable. Steve’s breathing matched it, heartbeat slowing, preparing. -Two. Just two.-

He could smell their sweat, the sour edge of adrenaline and fear. His eyes narrowed, fangs itching behind curled lips. Every muscle in his body screamed to lunge, to tear, to destroy anything between him and Eddie.

Moving along the wall with the flicker of lights, body flush to the metal as he tried to blend in with the shadows. Each pulse of light erased him and rebuilt him somewhere new. The guards didn’t even flinch. Every other sound fell away. Every other scent meant nothing. His muscles twitched in restraints, claws flexing. The urge to tear through them- to clear the path, to make the world stop getting in his way- was now a constant electric buzz under his skin.

“Close now, so close,” he muttered under his breath, voice rasping. “They can’t keep us apart. Won’t let ‘em.”

The lights flickered.

Once. Twice.

Then the power dipped as if being drawn elsewhere- everything plunging into black. For just a second there was no sound, no light, only the pulsing red strobes, painting the word in snapshots: the guards turning their heads, confusion blooming; Steve’s silhouette crouched low, eyes burning; the hallway frozen mid-breath.

The guards stood still, the heavier one swearing under his breath as he fumbled at his belt for a flashlight. “Goddamn demotion,” he grumbled, voice thick with irritation. “Should be at a desk.” The leaner one glanced around, unease etched on his face as he tried to see in the dark. “You hear somethin’?”

Steve held himself tight, pressed thin to the wall as he waited for them to calm down. Waited for them to turn away and continue on, flashlight illuminating the hall past them. Still clear, still dark. That’s when he pounced, a blur of feral rage in the red light. The larger man didn’t even have time to turn around before he was on him, claws slashing across his back with a wet rip. -Should’a worn kevlar. Might’a given you an extra second.- Fabric and flesh tore open in a spray of crimson, the man’s scream cut shot as Steve’s other hand clamped around his throat, crushing his windpipe as claws sunk in with a sickening crunch. Blood gushed, hot and slick, coating his pale fingers as the guard’s body convulsed and went limp, collapsing in a heavy heap.

The thinner guard had only just begun to turn, weapon barely raised as it all was happening too fast. He swung the gun, eyes wide with terror. “Holy-!” he started, but Steve was already moving, fangs bared in a snarl of unhinged desperation. He ducked under the man’s arm with unnatural speed, grabbing his wrist and snap, had him dropping the gun. He didn’t give the man a second to even scream, claws raking upward, slicing through the guard’s abdomen with brutal precision. Intestines spilled out in a glistening mess, the man’s scream gargling as blood flooded his mouth. But Steve didn’t stop, he sank his fangs into the guard’s shoulder, tearing through muscle as the metallic tang flooded his tongue.

The guard thrashed weakly, hand pawing at Steve’s blood-soaked face, but it was useless. Steve ripped his head back, taking a chunk of flesh with him, spitting it out across the floor with a wet spray. “Where is he?!” He growled, voice almost crazed, blood dripping from his chin, staining the tiles beneath. “Eddie! Tell me where they’ve got him!” The guard tried to speak, to say something, but his head lolled forward, like draining from his eyes. With a frustrated snake he shoved the body aside, letting it crumple into the growing pool of gore.

-Idiot! Should’ve asked before gutting him!- The lights flickered again, the red strobes casting a hellish glow over the carnage. He crouched over the bodies for a moment, chest heaving, blood-slick claws twitching. His mind was a storm of fractured thoughts, desperation clawing at him as fiercely as he’d clawed at the guards. The hallway reeked of iron and death, the silence broken only by the faint drip of blood and the distant sound of boots. He reached down and nabbed one of the keycards off the larger body.

Stretching as he stood, he groaned, back popping, letting a blood soaked claw drag across the wall, carving a jagged line as he steadied himself, forcing his mind to focus. “Eddie, I’m here.” He whispered to no one, voice breaking with raw need. “I’ll tear them all apart if I have to.. They can’t hide you forever. They can’t hide you from me.”

He straightened, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing it across his cheek like war paint. Continuing on, the hallway stretched deeper into the facility, more doors, more obstacles. Somewhere ahead, voices echoed- more guards, more prey. His lips curled into a manic grin as he dropped low again, slinking forward into the crimson-lit darkness. Nothing would stop him. Not now. Not ever.

Steve moved like a curse in the dark- all hard angled and quiet menace, a shadow with a pulse. The red lights still pulsed around him, painting the hallway in strips of blood colored light. He thought maybe he should’ve let the guards live- at least then there’d be noise. Screams, orders, gunfire, something. The quiet was worse than the screeching alarms. The silence let him hear the building breathe. It let him hear himself. It filtered in through the thrum of vents, the low white of fluorescents still trying to flicker, the faint clack of boots somewhere below- all of it blended into a rhythm that trickled down, beat by beat, to Eddie.

Eighteen floors.

Eighteen.

The number carved itself into the back of his skull, steady as a heartbeat.

Eddie’s heartbeat.

He could feel him down here. Somewhere. He could taste the thought of him- metal, smoke, and warmth- in the back of his throat. It made his jaw ache, his teeth grind, his hands flex uselessly. Every step deeper down felt like sinking through ice, like the world was daring him to lose control. But control was thin now, just a splinter of something human trying to hold back the floor.

Glancing down at the keycard in his hand- cold plastic slick with sweat and blood. A silver stripe dulled by a smear. He flipped it over one, squinting at it through the red gloom. -Silver.. Not the plain white of the guards. But not the gold-tier of Brenner’s… Definitely was demoted. High up to mid-level grunt now. Probably complained about over time.. Probably laughed when they dragged Eddie back in.- His lips curled. “Guess I’m your promotion, huh?” He snickered, pocketing it.

No time to waste, he moved forward, a distorted blur in the flickering red. The light caught his reflection on the doors- too pale, too bright-eyed, a smear of blood and shadows. His shirt had stiffened, dry and wet at the same time, but the smell- iron and fear- a hot and cold feeling together at once. It was grounding, calming even. Proof how far he’d come, a fuel that fed the heat building under his skin. Proof, too, that Eddie was still lost, the cold eating him from the inside out. And maybe Eddie was cold too, maybe he was afraid, but at least he was alive.

A sound- the heavy boots he’d forgotten about- turned a corner that he hadn’t been paying attention to.

Steve pressed himself flat against the cool metal of an open service door, unable to fit deeper in, breath caught sharp in his chest as a man heavily armored turned the corner. The guard’s silhouette cut through the pulsing red like a slow-moving target. Rifle slung lazily over his arm, body language relaxed, unbothered. His radio hissed, a soft laugh escaping the man as he touched the receiver as his shoulder, answering- easy, thoughtless. Relaxed.

It made his blood boil. He wanted, for a second, to tear him open and listen to the sounds he’d made. He wanted to drag claws down the man’s throat just to fill the hall with something other than this suffocating quiet. His body trembled with the effort it took to hold still. -No. No can’t stop to kill everyone. Not yet. Need to get to him. Need to go. Need to… What if he knows where Eddie is? What if he.. No! No. Go. Go now!- He forced himself small, not daring to breathe, pulse calming back to the barely there beats. The guard walked past without a glance, laughter slowly growing further and further.

When the guard’s back disappeared beyond the corner, Steve peeled himself off the wall and slid back into motion- no wasted movement. He wasn’t walking so much as gliding along the wall, a living shadow shaped with intent, fingertips brushing the cool metal doors, claws grazing concrete. Each seam, each panel, each breath of recycled air built a map in his head. He kept his ears tuned for the whir of locks or the clicks of boots in the distance. He needed to move fast, to get far away before the bodies were found, before more guards could be called. Every second wasted was another Eddie spent in the dark, another second they kept him caged. The thought had his chest constricting around it.

The door at the end of the hall was locked, so he slid the keycard through. It beeped weakly before lighting green. The door opened with an almost bureaucratic sigh, a weak permission granted. Most doors on the floor reacted that way. But others, others resisted, metal teeth clamped tight, refusing him entry. Those, he didn’t ask twice, just drove his shoulder into their frames until the bolts screamed and gave way. Not elegant. Not clean. But open. One door- thick, heavy, refusing him entry- made him pause. The panel beside it blinked, blank and cold. He just stared at it for a moment, annoyed, breathing shallowly, then pressed his blood-slick palm flat against the metal. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember the air back in the training room- the hum, the pressure, the way things had felt right when Eddie was beside him. Back when power had meant something he could control, something he owned.

It took a second, one heartbeat, two. Then the metal shivered under his palm, sliding open. His lips twitched almost letting a smile slip, almost. -Eddie would’ve loved that.- The thought had something twisting tight in his chest. -He’s gonna be so proud of me.-

Two more floors down before his luck broke again.

Coming too close to another pair of guards. Just two, wearing armor, actual fucking armor, gleaming like scales under the strobing red lights. They moved in sync, professional, their rifles steady. He ducked behind an office door, listening, holding as still as he possibly could. He could hear them, not just the displeased exchange between them, but the lives clinging to them- heartbeats steady, shallow breaths, one of them stinking of nicotine, the other too much soap. He could hear a weapon on them humming, feel the way their presence distorted the air. As they passed their breaths carried the residue of dinner, of late shifts, of being paid to be this blunt instrument between him and Eddie.

He wanted to break them open and listen to their hearts stutter to silence.
He wanted to keep moving and tear through concrete.
He wanted to run.

Every radio crackle made his claws itch. Every whispered update from them sounded like mockery. He could see Eddie’s face when he closed his eyes- dazed, pale, lips parted like he’d been calling for him. Steve’s throat burned. The thought that anyone else had heard Eddie’s voice down here made his vision go white around the edges. -He’s hurting. Probably bruised. Possibly broken. Possibly chained down. Possibly.. Possibly anything.- All those what ifs, all those possibilities were small, meaningless slices next to one truth: he would not leave without him.

The guards passed slowly, but he waited until their boots were no more than echoes fading into the hum of air vents. Only then did he move- fast, low, fluid- from shadow to shadow. No hesitation, no noise. He reached a door that, thankfully, led to another stairwell. The need to move had him practically vibrating, no more creeping, no more hiding. They had to already know he was here anyway. They had to.

-Eleven, just need to go eleven floors.- He grabbed the handle and yanked it open. Metal gave with a squeal, echoing down the concrete landings. He didn’t care, just stepped in and started counting each step. Eleven, twelve, thirteen. He whispered the numbers like little promises, needing something to focus on besides the screaming in his head. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. Each step took him closer but also brought that coil in his chest that much tighter.

The air grew heavier the father he descended- thicker, hotter, the faint bite of bleach mingling with the copper tang of blood drying on his lips. Steve pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the tacky crust of it. But it didn’t matter, he could bathe later. They could bathe later. They could burn this place down later.

For now, he needed Eddie.

Halfway between landings he stopped, lungs dragging in air that smelled of rust and heat. For a second, he could see it- Eddie’s grin, crooked and warm, ghosts of past hands pushing at his chest, tearing him over getting too worked up. “Don’t overthink it, Stevie,” he’d say, laughing. “You always overthink it.”

Steve’s hand twitched, claws scraping concrete. -I’m not overthinking. I’m focused. Focused on you babe.- He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to shove the thoughts, the hallucinations down before it made him feel. Feeling was dangerous. Feeling slowed him down.

Exhaling a slow, trembling breath, he watched red lights flash somewhere down the stairs, pulsing like a heartbeat. He could do this. He had to do this. Had to find him. “Hold on, Eds.” he whispered to no one, voice low and scraped raw. “I'm coming. Just hold on a little longer.”

And then he moved again- a blood covered shadow sinking deeper into the dark, eyes wide, mind slowly unraveling with each heavy step. One single line of thought drawing him forward: Find him. Get him back. Tear the world apart if you have to.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs he just listened. There in the silence, was a pulse, thick with the sound of boots. Ten pairs, at least, pounding in his direction. He could feel their faint vibrations through the metal railing, taste their sweat, smell the gun oil in the air before they came into the stairwell. The keycard clicked uselessly against the next door reader. Not stopping for a second try- he just slammed a shoulder into the metal. Concrete took his weight as the door shrieked and gave in, a wet, scraping moan that made his teeth grind. It was a whisper compared to the thunder that would follow if he failed now.

Shooting through the dark he wasn’t fast, wasn’t sloppy- Steve moved like a weapon, with just enough control to keep his boots quiet. Across the narrow connection, down the next set of stairs, deeper, closer. The air grew even heavier, even hotter, skin itching with the blood crusting across his cheeks. When he reached the landing below, he froze just before slamming past the door. There was movement again. Ten- no twelve pairs this time. Head tilting, he stretched out his senses as far as he could manage. There was a shift in the air as they passed below, the faint hum of comms, the rasp of fabric over kevlar. They padded through the floor like hunters.

Pressing himself flat against the wall he breathed in through his teeth, trying to calm the rising nerves. The air wasted wrong- mold, fear, and disinfectant, nothing from them. Not yet. His mind flickered with thoughts too fast to process: Plan. Wait. Watch. Patience. But the words meant nothing, just paper thin fragments against the floor of fear and want.

The want to get Eddie back. But under it, the want to let go. It didn’t help that he could smell the swear beading under their armor. Could hear their blood rushing through their veins. Could imagine the warm gush of it under his hands, the sweet, dense smell when the pulse would finally stop. He could almost see it: claws catching the closest one by the throat, dragging him backward into the dark before anyone noticed. He’d tear them apart, one by one, until the corridor was quiet again. It would be easy. -So. So easy.-

But then, a thought came, jagged and cutting through the noise rising in his head- Eddie.

Steve blinked, forcing in another breath, shaking his head hard enough as if to shake the thoughts away. There were twelve of them, twelve. Would it be possible to kill them all before he got hurt? Before they sounded the alarm? No.. It would be too risky, a mistake. And a mistake could make the whole floor fall into chaos. Chaos risked Eddie. He wouldn’t dare risk them locking everything down when he’s come so close.

He stayed still, pinned against the wall. Let them pass in silence, watching each of them through the small window.

When the boots finally faded, Steve slipped back into motion, every movement low and fast. The stairwell plunged him deeper, the building changing until he no longer recognized it. The air damp now, mechanical, full with the stench of overheated wiring and chemical solvents. The sterile smell was replaced by something metallic, almost rotting beneath the artificial chill. He kept his head low, body curled in on itself, following the pulsing red lights deeper and deeper.

By the time he reached what he assumed was the lower levels, even the noise had changed. Not scattered guards anymore- but clusters of them. And it wasn’t just the small patrols anymore either, but men fully decked out in heavy tactical gear, and even heavier guns. Radios squawking, armor gleaming in the dim strobes of light. Their presence made his gums ache, had his mouth tasting of ash. His hands twitched, claws ready to strike. He could feel them in his skull- the thrum of adrenaline, the hum of orders pressing between them. It was all so loud. How had he missed it?

Steve ducked into an alcove at the first sight of them, muscles coiled tight. He watched the group through a narrow opening, there were at least twenty of them, radios crackling to other teams he could hear in the distance. His brain offered logic- wait, regroup, find another way down, there’s too many. But logic was a soft, dying thing now. A whisper compared to the roaring in his head. The other voice- the one that had carried him through the woods, that had torn through throats and bone and metal like butter- was howling. It screamed to go, to take what was his.

-You’re so close.- The voice whispered, it sounded suspiciously like Eddie… But not. -You can smell him now, can’t you? Under the stench of humans, past steel and concrete- he’s there. Waiting for you.- Steve flexed his fingers, claws coated in dried blood, dragging small curls of paint from the wall. He could almost hear Eddie’s breathing through the static of his mind, could almost taste the warmth of his pulse.

When the team passed, he slipped free of the alcove staying pressed tight to the wall. Decision was already made. He’d go forward, no matter what was ahead. Focusing, head tilting. There- he could hear another corridor feeding into this one- a supply wing, probably. Quieter. Safer.

Steve moved like an animal that had learned patience only because killing required it. The keycard’s light flickered green twice, a tired little sigh of permission. He slid through, sealing the door behind him.

The wing was a maze of crates and metal carts, shadows stacked atop shadows. A perfect cover on an annoying obstacle course. He weaved through it like a living nightmare, every motion sharp, patient, purposeful. There was no bravado left in him for theatrics, head throbbing with every distant sound- boots, radios, breathing that wasn’t Eddie’s. The air smelled of oil, rubber, and old blood.

He was shaking, but not out of fear. It was the want echoing through his bones. He could feel it boiling just beneath his ribs, a pressure that refused to let go. He didn’t care about being clean, didn’t care about stealth beyond what kept him moving forward. He’d rip the walls down with his bare hands if that’s what it took.

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

Every time he blinked, memories threaded sharp edges and choking- Eddie’s eyes, his voice, the sound of his laugh cut short. Every thought, every breath, every flicker of light was dragged toward the name. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. Steve wasn’t sure what he’d do when he managed to get down there. Save him. Tear the place apart. Burn it down. Maybe all three. Maybe more.

For now, though, he kept moving through the red streaked maze, a bloodstained ghost clawing its way toward the only thing left in the world that mattered.

At the end of the wing, he froze, motion snagging his senses. Two guards- too close, too human- stood at the far junction, helmets off, eyes dull with exhaustion. Their youth hit like an insult, they looked about his age, face set with the same blankness that comes from sleep deprivation and orders fighting with one another. They had no right to still look that young, not here, not when Eddie was rotting somewhere below. The edges of his vision sharpened until he could see their pulse twitch under the skin of their throats.

-Should’ve smelled them sooner. Should’ve- Focus, idiot! Get to him alive.-

His claws flexed against sticky palms, the quiet scrape against dried and tacky blood. He could end them both in seconds. It would be easy. A ripple of movement, a flash of teeth, a small wet sound, and then he could scream through their blood to Eddie- let him know he was coming. Let the echo bounce down every hallway until it reached whatever hole they’d buried him in. He wanted to howl the name until the walls bled it back, Eddie.

But not yet. -Not. Yet.-

A sliver of cold metal glinted to his right- another vent. He slipped along the wall, body moving without sound, and forced himself inside before either of them looked up. The grate closed behind him with the softest click. Inside, everything sounded too alive. His own crawl echoed like an animal pacing its cage, claws letting out little tap tap taps a rhythm that wasn’t patience, but obsession. The smell of dust and steel filled his nose, and beneath it, faintly- Eddie. Or the memory of him. It clung to his tongue like copper, so faint it left him wanting more.

He moved faster, metal creaking under his weight as he inches along like an insect, all patience, all terrible focus. Steve was nothing but breath and motion and the thought of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. His mind split itself in two- one half calculating, cold precision, the other a rabid, starving thing. The predator in him wanted to rip through every obstacle in its path. The strategist knew he couldn’t- not yet. But that leash was fraying with every inch he crawled.

When the duct spilled him out into a dim corridor, red light still flickered over the walls, he crouched low, waiting. A few heartbeats fluttered beyond the nearest door, steady and unconcerned. Techs. Their calm felt obscene. The keycard blinked green at the end of the hall and granted him passage and he slipped through silently.

The next hallway was wrong. Offices. Dead ends. Nothing familiar. His pulse skipped almost painfully. -Eighteen floors down. But now it’s…- He tried to count, but the layout was warped, unfamiliar. The lab’s geography pressed tight against him. Steve tried to recall the blueprints, the safe routes, the stairwell markings, but his memory was a shredded reel. Just flashes of corridors, vents, screaming, Eddie’s face.

A low laugh leaked through as he passed one of the doors- techs arguing numbers, a distant laugh that had him looking on in disgust. And the smell pouring from the room- disinfectant, cheap coffee, stress- should’ve been meaningless. But there was.. Something was there. The barest trace of something familiar. It wasn’t Eddie, not exactly, but close. It had the same slight tinge as the jacket Eddie liked, the same tangy scent of his shampoo. It hit him like a full body blow, stopped him cold.

The pull was immediate. He wanted to tear the door open, drag every voice inside out by the throat, demand answers to where they’d taken him. His breath sped up; fangs biting into his lip. But the scent was already fading. Just residue, a tease. It burned like betrayal.

Steve forced himself on, avoiding the other heartbeats scattered around. The next stairwell waited at the end of the corridor. The keypad beeped sadly- red light. Denied. The growl that pulled out of him wasn’t human. The wall dented under his hand before he pressed his palm flat against the lock. Power rippled through him; the bolt clacked open with a flick of his hand. He angrily stepped through- then froze.

The sign on the wall read Sublevel Eight.

“No..” The word was barely air as he stared at it. “No, no no.” His throat worked, breath starting to hitch. “That’s not.. I went up. I.. That’s-” His thoughts splintered. -No. No no no no no. How did I..?- Fifteen floors back down. He’d gone up. -That’s not.. That’s not possible. I didn’t..-

A strangled sound slipped out- something between a laugh and a snarl. He could feel the walls watching him, tightening, mocking. The quiet hum of the still spinning lights grated on his ears. The building seemed to squeeze in around him as if it were aware of his intent and wanted to smother it. Wanted to keep him from Eddie.

For a moment Steve saw Wayne’s hand on his shoulder- steady, patient, real. The ghost of it is almost anchoring. Almost. But the tether burned through in an instant. He didn’t want calm. Didn’t want patience. He wanted Eddie. He wanted to burn this place down and drag him from the wreckage in pieces if he had to.

Still- somewhere deep inside the snarling chaos- there was the echo of Wayne’s voice, the one that reminded him that saving Eddie meant getting him out alive. Not breaking him on the way… It was enough… Barely.

He started moving again. Faster this time. Down the stairs. Down through floors that smelled of bleach, then blood, then fear. The red lights kept pulsing, kept smearing color over walls until the whole world felt painted in heartbeats. Each landing blurred into the next as the stairwell swallowed him up as he forced himself down deeper, into the belly of the lab.

Steve told himself, over and over like a prayer, like an incantation: “He’s okay. He’s gonna be okay. He’s alive. I’m gonna find him, take him home.” The words grew louder, sharper, filling the stairs until it was impossible to tell if he was whispering them or if they were whispering back.

-He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.- The voice echoed through his head again, half a lover, half a predator. And with every repetition, his pace quickened- until he was half-running, half-stalking through the dark, body a blood soaked shadow hurling down toward the only thing left that mattered.

The next flight down felt endless, the concrete stairs slick beneath his combat boots. The air was almost stifling now, and the emergency light was starting to piss him off, the light strobing forcing his eyes to adjust to darkness then bright every few seconds. His breaths came in heavy, animalistic drags as he no longer cared how much noise he made. So close, so very close. He could almost feel Eddie’s heartbeat somewhere below, could almost feel the warm pulses that he missed more than air, could feel it all just there, buried beneath the concrete, steel, and rot.

The keycard was tacky between his fingers, blood caked across it. Steve jammed it into the reader at the bottom of the stairs, the little beep almost comical in the silence. The door slid open easily. Beyond it stretched another hallway, narrow and too clean. The stainless walls were lined with more of those flickering lights. The air was still. Too still. Even the hum of ventilation felt wrong, as if the whole building were holding its breath.

Steve stopped, head cocked, listening. One heartbeat.. Two, maybe three, faint and distant, muffled at the other side of the floor, probably a control room or breakroom. It would be manageable, easily avoidable. His own pulse was louder than theirs, thunderous, pounding in his throat, crashing like a wave in his skull.

He stalked forward, silent but twitching, fingers flexing as he double checked the sword on his hip, its weight a quiet comfort. -Almost there.- The voice like a ghost of thought- his own, but not. Something that lived in the far corners of his mind now. He shook it off, blinking hard. Eddie was close, he could feel it, that sharp magnetic pull that had been dragging him down for what felt like hours. He could smell it. That copper-sweet tang of blood that wasn’t quite right anymore. He didn’t care if it was someone else’s or Eddie’s, couldn’t stop to check- he just needed to see him.

And then everything- everything- changed.

The red lights snapped off.

For a second, quicker than a heartbeat, darkness swallowed the world whole.

Then, with a blinding flash, the hallway exploded in sterile white.

Steve stumbled, one hand coming up to shield his eyes, pupils burning, breath hitching. The silence was instant and absolute- no hum of alarms, no flicker of electricity. The sudden stillness was so sharp it rang in his ears like tinnitus. Every instinct in him screamed wrong, wrong, wrong. How hadn’t he noticed it before?!

Somewhere behind the walls, a faint click echoed. Then another. Then-

Boots.

Too many. Coming from every direction. Not one pair. Dozens. No- hundreds.

It was as if a hundred heartbeats snapped into existence all at once. So sudden, so synchronized, so overwhelming it had his head whipping around. They hadn’t been there before. He’d listened. They’d been hidden, masked somehow. Something.. Something, a tech maybe? Or something worse, had hidden them. The realization punched through him.

And then sweat. Gunpowder. Metal. Plastic. He could smell them. Could almost taste the oil of their guns in the air.

“Shit-”

He didn’t even have time to move.

Figures flooded the hall ahead and behind, from every door around him- black armor glinting under the harsh lights. Rifles raised, lasers snapping to life, a dozen red dots blooming across his chest, neck, face. Steve spun, teeth bared, heart hammering, searching for a gasp, a weak point. There was none. The hallway narrowed with bodies, walls closing in until it felt like the air was being siphoned out, smelling of panic and burnt ozone. His thoughts scattered like broken glass, only one staying whole. -No. No no no no no.-

A shove from behind sent him stumbling forward. Hands- gloved, rough, unrelenting- hit his shoulders, his arms, his throat. Someone drove a knee into the back of his leg, and he hit the ground hard. The muzzle of a gun jammed against the side of his head, cold metal grinding into bone. Another pressed against the base of his skull. The weight of bodies crushed him, boots grinding down against his calves, stomped over his wrists, his spine.

He thrashed once. Twice. The butt of a rifle cracked hard into the side of his head.

White pain.
Then ringing.
Then there was nothing.

Steve slumped forward, finally slamming face first into the floor. His vision swam in red and black as the boots he could see twisted in front of him. With a weak groan he blinked once, twice, tasting blood on his tongue.

And that’s when he noticed it, that’s when he stopped trying to struggle out of their tight holds.

The earpiece was just static. The voices were gone. No more shouts, no arguments, no orders. Just silence.

The click of metal brought him back as suddenly his arms were wrenched back, joints screaming as cold cuffs snapped shut around him. Thick, heavy- designed to hold something more than human. They snapped over his wrists, encapsulated his hands, the metal biting into his skin until he could feel his bones grinding under the pressure.

Then came the collar.

It clamped around his throat with a low mechanical hum, cold and heavy, humming with power that crawled through his nerves like ice. As soon as it clamped down a hiss followed as something sharp drove into the skin beneath it. Injecting, burrowing- and then his body betrayed him. The numbness spread fast, like frost racing through his veins. His limbs turned to lead. His heartbeat slowed. His fangs retracted, claws slid away to blunt nails.

-No. No no no. I was so close. I was right there. Right fucking there!-

“Ah, Steven.” The voice slithered through the air. Smooth. Familiar. Wrong. “Welcome home.” He was wrenched back onto his knees, chin gripped, forced to look forward. The guns were pressed back tight against him, probably the only reason he didn’t fall forward.

His blood froze, every hair on his body standing up. The room tilted. -Martin. Fucking. Brenner.-

Perfectly pressed suit. Silver hair, immaculate as ever. Hands folded, eyes bright, expression soft- fatherly. The sight made something deep in Steve’s chest convulsive. -Of course.- The bastard couldn’t have just dropped dead, he couldn’t have been that lucky.

Steve’s teeth ground together until his jaw creaked. “Fuck you,” he rasped, the words tearing out, shredded and raw. He tried his best to lunge- reflex, instinct- but hands forced him still, a dozen muzzled pressing harder against his skull. “You fucking-”

The blow came fast, another rifle butt snapping his head sideways, cutting the rest off. Blood dripped from his mouth.

Movement swam into his vision. More boots. Another cluster of guards appearing at the far end of the hall- dragging something.. Someone? Behind them. Being dragged like prisoners, were faces that had something sharp twisting in his chest until it hurt to breathe.

Wayne. Hopper. Joyce. Murray. Jonathan. Nancy. Eleven. Even Dustin.

All of them cuffed. Muzzles tight over their mouths, pressing deep into skin. A collar identical to his own strapped tight around Eleven’s neck.

The world blurred as the air tore out of his lungs, heart stuttering, skipping, then began to pound so violently he thought his ribs would crack.

Steve made a sound then- a broken, high-pitched noise that didn’t sound human. A plea, a snarl, a sob. He pulled at the cuffs, muscles straining until they trembled, but the collar sparked once- just once- and agony ripped down his spine, body seizing, every nerve screaming.

He fell still.

Brenner stepped closer, staying in his line of sight, composed as ever. His calm, his patience, it made it all worse, made Steve’s vision pulse black around the edges. He crouched, voice soft as silk.

“You’ve been busy.” The words dripped like poison. He acted as if they were old friends catching up, keeping his voice warm in the way that made Steve want to rip his throat out. With. His. Teeth.

“We’ve been waiting for you to come back to us,” he went on. “I’ll admit- I was starting to worry. But I knew you’d return.. Eventually.”

Steve’s mouth worked, but no words came out. He wanted to say something, to curse, to bite, but his throat felt raw like he’d been screaming. The collar hummed against his skin, like it was drinking the rage right out of him.

“I’ve been waiting to see the results of our little experiment, but I got rather impatient.” Brenner continued, turning slightly as another man approached- a lab coat, neat glasses, eyes wide and excited as he tapped on lines of data through a thick tablet.

“It was successful,” the scientist said. “We can confirm it, sir. Complete integration. I’m more than certain we can even recreate a similar effect- perhaps even amplify it- in the girl. Or… In his companion with enough work.”

The word slices through like a knife.

Companion.

Eddie.

Steve’s head snapped up, vision tunneling, the walls closing in until all he saw was Brenner’s face- smiling, pleased, like a man who’d just been handed the final piece of cake. He wanted to scream.

“Wonderful,” Brenner murmured. Then, leaning in close enough for Steve to smell the faint hint of his disgusting cologne, he added. “You see, Steven… All this time, you’ve been working. For me.”

His hand came up, a farce gentleness, curling beneath Steve’s chin, before forcing his face up. Steve tried to pull back, but a gun pressed harder into his skull, the metal biting. “You’ve been our most successful experiment yet.” Brenner’s voice was honey-slick now as he gave a pause, a grin curling his lips. “And the best part? You didn’t even know.”

Steve tried to suck in a breath, but none came. -…Experiment?- The word dropped like stone. His mind felt like it was fracturing. The hallway blurred, white lights flickering at the edges of his vision.

The world seemed to tilt again- too bright, too sharp, too wrong. His blood roared through his ears. The word didn’t make sense. None of it did. Memories twisted, fragments flashing- needles, burning, that same clean sterile smell that haunted his nightmares. Cold tables. Eddie’s voice. Eddie’s scream.

His stomach twisted.

And through it all- somewhere deep, faint, muffled through the chaos. He could swear he still heard it.

Eddie’s heartbeat.

Notes:

Sorry for the long wait! I've just moved into my house and am unpacking practically alone.

I'll try to update again within a week but I promise I have no intentions of abandoning this story.

Chapter 43: Who Is In Control?

Summary:

What happens when you can't remember what you've forgotten?
What happens when you can?

Notes:

Chapter warning: Steve has some brief alone time in the shower. And Brenner is his own warning.

There was something cold and hard pressing against his back- metal, smooth and faintly vibrating with the hum of electricity running beneath it. He tried to flinch away, but nothing happened. His muscles stayed slack and uncooperative. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t even twitch a finger. Couldn’t turn his head. It was as if his body had been filled with wet sand - heavy, disconnected, not entirely his own. The weight wasn’t just physical; it was wrong, foreign, like his skin was a suit someone forgot to close properly around him.

Somewhere far off beside him, a hiss broke the silence- sharp, mechanical. A second later, a soft click echoed back. Then came the sting of something piercing his arm- thin and surgical.

“Mmm-” The weak sound tore from his throat. Whatever they had injected felt thick, like molten tar moving through his bloodstream. It burned, numbing everything it touched, leaving his muscles unresponsive but screaming in pain. He almost looked relaxed, breathing too slow to be human, face blank, unmoving. -Where… Am.. I? What… Happened?- The thoughts rose sluggishly, disjointed, like he was dragging them up through wet cement. His mind felt padded- like everything was wrapped in layers of cotton. Distant. Muffled. Even his heartbeat, thudding faintly in his ears, was too slow and echoing strangely, as if it belonged to someone else now.

His hearing bled back in, in wrapped fragments. Voices first- distant, distorted, leaking in through the fog around him.
“-e’s.. Most… -ady.”
“-levels.. -able… -ep… dosage.”
The words cut in and out like a broken radio. He couldn’t tell how many people there were, couldn’t tell if the voices were different. Were there two? Three? More? Every time he tried to focus, the words slipped sideways.

His senses attempted to return one by one, stuttering through static. Smell came next- sterile disinfectant so thick it coated his throat when he tried to swallow. Beneath it, metallic and sour, the faint scent of something and.. Iron?... Blood. It clung cold and old to the recycled air, too stale to be fresh. His? Someone else’s? He couldn’t tell. It smelled like dried copper on concrete and bleach, trying to scrub it away.

Where was he? What happened? Why couldn’t he move? The questions tumbled over each other, slow and echoing as his mind stretched toward memory- toward the last thing he could recall before all of this.

The last thing…

Oh.

---

The guards hadn’t wasted a second, quickly stripping the knives from his back and hips before he could focus on what was happening. The guns he’d hidden in his waistband, holsters, the knives in his boots, his earpiece- everything that might have been useful was yanked away in one swift, clinical sweep. And just as soon as they started, it was over, guns pressing heavily into every available inch of skin.

“What do you mean, working for you?” Steve hissed, nostrils flaring, teeth bared even if his fangs refused to cooperate. -If I could just move… I’d tear him apart.- If he could just bite off a finger..

That smile. That disgusting, familiar smile widened as Brenner stood back up, smooth and calculated, every inch the predator, confident he had the upper hand. “Ah yes. Well, you see, we’ve been able to.. Hmm.” His words lingered, teasing, before he pivoted to the scientist, ignoring the question entirely. “You said it was successful.. Does that also mean the reintegration had been fleshed out?” -Reintegration? What.. What did they do to me?-

The scientist’s fingers tapped fast against the tablet, almost soothing in its repetition. “Yes. As of now, we have a success rate of ninety-nine percent. The one percent.. Still suffer from the unfortunate side effect of being driven to insanity… But we’re working on it.”

Steve blinked, slowly, trying to process whatever it was they were talking about. -Unfortunate… Unfortunate.. What?!- He would have flinched back if he could, would have thrown himself forward, snapping them in half if he was able.

“See to it that you do.” Brenner’s voice was calm, precise, slicing through the haze of his thoughts. “But nonetheless, have your team prep for reintegration. I’d like him up and running as soon as possible.” The scientist nodded, and gave up the tablet as Brenner held his hand out. “As I was saying..”

Brenner continued, attention focused back on Steve. “We were originally working with you on how to control your powers.” Even with the forced calm of the collar, he tensed up. -They knew?!.. Wait… Working with me? No, that’s..- Panic prickled along his spine, every hair on his body rose, every muscle coiled. Seeing the confusion, Brenner went on.

“Yes, yes, you’ll understand everything soon, Steven. Be patient.” He turned to the rest of the group, flashing them one of those disgusting, knowing smiles that made Steve’s skin crawl.

“You see-” he tapped the tablet again as he spoke, “-we wanted to test a theory. As well as to see if we could create the perfect soldier. Combining the two.. We put Steven through some very rigorous trials.” -No.. No, you fucking didn’t. I didn’t go through shit.- Rage bubbled beneath the collar’s numbing pressure, a flood held back by an invisible dam. “Of course, he was doing wonderfully,” Brenner continued. “But too many unanswered questions remained. So, in the end.. We implemented phase two.” The tapping continued.

-The fuck is pha- “We wiped Steven’s mind. All traces of his time with us, his training.. Even his powers. From where we-”

-Wh.. What?- He knelt there, frozen, chest tight, eyes wide, feeling the weight of all those missing fragments in his memories. And he just knew.. It had to be true. There were too many gaps, too much missing, and worst of all.. He’d hardly questioned how his powers came so easily.

“-simply treated him as a better version of Edward.” Brenner continued, eyes glinting as he tapped away at the tablet, not looking up at them. “At first, we were worried certain areas might unlock old memories, but, thankfully, my team is far more competent now than at the Rainbow Room.”

“You’re fucking lying!” Steve spat the words, raw, desperate- but the butt of a rifle cracked against his forehead before he could say any more. His vision swam; the collar hissed in warning, a sharp reminder of his limitations. A soft groan escaped as he blinked up slowly, watching as Brenner held up the tablet for all to see.

Brenner tapped play, and clear security footage played. -I.. No, no, no, please no, it can’t have been.. I can’t have been..- The first clip played, and Steve could see himself clearly, standing in the Pitt. He wanted to freak out as he watched himself fling his hands in different directions, ripping a charging demodog in half as if it were paper. Then another, and another, and another- but the collar forced a wave of calm through him. -It can’t be true, it.. I can’t… Please.-

The next clip played. A white room he couldn’t recognize, sterile and cold, and he was standing in the middle of it, wires and probes attached onto every inch of him. Steve watched as this version of him lazily threw out his hand and slowly, a machine rose from the ground with the lift of his palm. The movement effortless, precise, impossible. Video after video plays. In one, Steve demolished a room with a flick of his wrist. In another, he’s ripping the arms clean off a demogorgon back in the Pitt. At one point he sees himself, face blank, emotionless, that perfect soldier, and with a twist of his fingers a man’s head snaps three hundred and sixty degrees. If he could react.. He’d throw up. That isn’t him. It can’t be.

“You see, Steven-” Brenner began again, unfazed as he knelt there in horror. “-you were such a good little toy, nearly the perfect soldier. So of course we had to test you. Originally, we wanted to see how long it would take for your memories to return. But then.. When you didn’t show any sign of remembering, I grew bored. So I decided to show you Edward, wanted to see your response when you’d forgotten about him.” He seemed to light up with excitement. “I never expected you to… Fall in love. Or even escape with him. But oh, the data we collected!”

Brenner whipped around, bright smile plastered to his face as he looked over the tied up group. “You see when we-”

Steve raised his head still kneeling ramrod straight on the cold tile floor, guns biting harder into his skull, spit running down his chin. Slowly, he licked his lips, nostrils flaring in anger. Brenner’s hand slowly reached to his cheek, wiping across it slowly, almost contemplatively, disgust evident, he blinked for a moment as he stared at his hand.

“Steven… How unsanitary.” The man mocked, slowly coming back over. Crouching again, Brenner’s smile softened to something almost predatory. Then with the same hand, he delivered a vicious backhand. The strike landed with a sharp crack, the force snapping Steve’s head to the side, a searing pain exploding across his cheekbone from a thick metal ring, vision flashing white for a second. The only reason he didn’t completely collapse was due to the cold metal pressing against his skull and the unyielding weight crushing his legs into the floor. His jaw throbbed, a dull ache spreading down his neck as his healing was slowly trying to push past the collar’s drugs. “You ever do that again.. And I’ll-”

“Fuck you!” He hissed, straining forward, dull teeth bared, lungs burning. “Fuck you, you piece of shit! I don’t fucking work for you! I’ll never fucking-!” The gasp stuck in his throat as Brenner pressed something on the tablet, the collar hissing as something sharp stabbed into him, dragging his pulse down, crushing his flare of fury into obedient calm.

“Tsk, tsk, Steven. Do behave. But.. No matter, we’ll have you fixed up soon enough.” Brenner stood again, making some venture he couldn’t focus on. Guards moved and from one blink to the next, hands were gripping him, hauling him to his numb feet. Legs feeling like wet noodles, there was another hand gesture he could hardly pay attention to. “It’ll all be back to normal soon, just one last procedure.” There was another sting against his neck, the world dimming as dark spots began to press in at the edges. The guards started to haul him back, away from the group.

Wayne tried to pull forward at the same time Steve weakly struggled, numb and powerless to pull away. Neither for far as the guards dragged them in opposite directions. They pulled the group who Steve knew if they weren’t muzzled would have been shouting, back down the opposite hall. And Steve… Everything went dark as the collar hissed again, another wave of numbness, another jab into his neck.

---

Oh… Right.

The memories trickled in in jagged fragments- Brenner’s hand caressing his cheeks as he promised it would all be fine soon, being dragged down a narrowing hallway into an elevator. Something.. Something had been said- orders, threats, explanations maybe- but he couldn’t focus on what it was. Steve’s mind clawed at the edges of his thoughts, desperate to weave them into a coherent thread on how exactly he’d ended up here, wherever here was.

Beneath him that cold surface was biting, hard and unyielding, a stark contrast to the dull numbness that still clung to his limbs. He could just barely wiggle his fingers now, could just scrape them, lightly against the smooth surface. Like metal that had been polished. A lab table- of course it was. Past the feeling, awareness was slowly creeping back in, the soft mechanical vibrations of something he couldn’t see behind him pulsing in his ears. Had he fallen asleep again?

Humming softly, he tried to focus back on feeling. There were.. Thick straps digging into his wrists, his ankles. They bit into him, digging deep, cutting skin that continuously tried to heal itself with every futile twitch of muscle. He tried to lift his head, just a little, but it was still too much energy that he didn’t yet have. But from what little he could make out around him, it was an all too familiar scene. The very same lab he remembers meeting Doc in… Was that… Was that part of Brenner’s plan too?

Steve took in a small, shallow breath, body refusing to draw in more under the weight of whatever drugs they’d pumped into him. The air was thick with that antiseptic stench he hates, mingling with the faint coppery tang of blood. He couldn’t… He couldn’t smell anyone. Not Wayne, not Dustin, not even a hint of Eddie anymore. -Are they.. Are they alive?- The thought sent a spike of panic through his sluggish system, but his body refused to react, trapped in a cage of forced calm.

Between one slow blink and the next, there were suddenly hands brushing across him. A fleeting, ghostlike touch to his forehead, then another, broader pressure on his shoulders. The sensations were enough to make him flinch away, or try to. His body wanted to obey, wanted to twist and strike, but all it managed was a weak twitch. He wanted to scream, to growl, to attack whoever's hand ran across his chest, his cheek, in his hair.

Then came the liquid fire spreading up his arm, coursing along his vein with a sharp, searing intensity that left him gasping. The pain was worse than whatever it was he’d felt before, overwhelming, undeniable. His instincts surged forward as he tried to recoil, to twist away, but the straps and the fact his body refused to move held him still. His muscles screamed, almost as if his very bones were trying to arch away from the pain as every nerve ignited in a way that made him feel both alive and trapped inside himself.

The heat spread like wildfire through his chest, burning down his arms, curling through his shoulders, clawing over his collarbone. His teeth clenched, jaw working, trying to grit through it. Every inhale was a shallow, ragged struggle; the air stuck in his lungs until it ripped out of him, sharp as a knife.

Steve tried to focus on the small details he could catch. The straps a cool balm gigging into his skin, how nice the table suddenly felt, the whisper of the air vent above. -Am I… Alone? Where.. Where are they?- Everyone he cared about- they might be here, somewhere, but the drugs kept him from reaching, kept him from calling out, kept him from knowing. The drugs burning through him pulsed in tandem with his faint heartbeat, a rhythm of pain that made him forget everything else for a moment. -I can’t… Take it out! Take it out! Make it stop! Please!- The cruel hum of the collar threaded through the fire, smoothing the edges of his thoughts into a lethargic focus, something slipping through his fingers as the pain kept slashing at him in waves. He was trapped, still here, still conscious, still all too aware.. But trapped all the same.

In that small moment of awareness that seemed to last forever, in that strange tortured limbo of numb and pain, a single thought clawed through. -I will remember. I will remember every goddamn thing.-

---

Time didn’t move so much as drag, stretching thin around him like old cobwebs- a way he thought he’d never have to experience again. He lost track of it entirely- seconds, hours, days- reduced to a loop of drifting and drowning in a dark, drugged haze. Consciousness was something that came in fractured bursts, each one punctured by pain so sharp it cleaved through the numb fog and left him gasping.

Sometimes Steve thought he screamed- body convulsing against restraints, vision tunneling into a blinding white- but he couldn’t be sure. His throat felt raw, shredded, like he’d swallowed glass. But had he really made a sound? Or was it all just happening inside his head, silent and unseen? He didn’t know anymore, wasn’t sure his body even remembered how to do that- how to cry out, how to beg, how to be heard.

There were moments- too bright, too loud- when his eyes snapped open without permission. Light would burn, cold metal searing into his back as that molten head would return to flood his veins. Even now he could still feel it- the fire under his skin- turning his nerves into a live wire, tearing a muffled, broken sound from somewhere deep in his chest.

And still, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t pull away. Couldn’t flinch from it.

He tried, though. God, he tried. Muscles straining weakly against the straps biting into his wrists, his ankles, skin tearing, knitting, tearing again in a sickening rhythm. Every attempt just earned him more agony, more needles, more heat that felt like it was trying to boil him from the inside out.

It never once stopped.

The darkness would swallow him again and again- merciful, but never for long enough.

-Please… Please stop.-

Even in his mind the words barely formed. They dragged like everything else, drenched in exhaustion and something dangerously close to despair. No one heard. No one answered. It was just him, the pain, the fire battling the ice inside him, the hum of machines- they were the only things that stayed.

He didn’t know if they were trying to kill him.

He didn’t know if he wanted them to.

---

How long has it been?

How long has he been bolted to this table, wishing- begging- they’d just get it over with? Days? Weeks? It all bled together into one long, endless night. The lights never changed. His tomb The room never changed. Only the faces did- blurred silhouetted in lab coats, some curious, some indifferent, most disgusted- all coming and going like passing storms, leaving pain in their wake.

At some point,he thinks, an older man had come in- his steps softer, voice smooth like he thought kindness could soften the horror. Fingers brushed through his sweat soaked hair, pushing it back from his forehead with a tenderness that made him want to cry. He said something? A soothing, almost sweet tone was all he could remember. But then the pain came again. Burning, splitting, clawing under his skin until he couldn’t tell where his body ended and the agony began.

Time kept moving.

He stayed.

Who was he anymore?

He was… He was a man. A person. Or- no. Maybe not. Maybe he was something else. A monster. A mistake. A thing. The thought echoed through the hollow cavern of his mind, loud in the silence. He thought- once- he had a name. A real one. Something solid to keep him going. But whenever he reached for it, his mind slid away like it was coated in oil.

What was it?

-Sweetheart… Baby… Big boy?- Those were the only names he could grab on to, drifting to him from somewhere warm, somewhere safe- someone important had said them, had whispered them against his skin, soft and real. Were those his names? Were any of them his?

Sweetheart. That one stuck. That one hurt the most.

He remembered it being said over and over, gently, frantically, with laughter.. With fear. It wrapped around his heart like a lifeline he couldn’t grasp. That had to be it. It had to be who he was.

-Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart-

But no one here called him that.

No one here called him anything at all.

Just subject. Just specimen. Just it.

And he was so, so tired.

---

“It’s time.” A voice cut through the void like a blade, dragging him up from the murky darkness he’d been clinging to. He didn’t know how long he’d been floating there- hours, weeks, lifetimes- but the pull of that voice hurt. It meant consciousness. It meant feeling.

“Hmm?” He managed, a weak hum scraping out of his throat. His eyelids fluttered, barely lifting. The world becoming only a smear of shadows, too bright lights, and white coats. He tried to find the voice, but his head still wouldn’t turn.

Silence followed. A long, cold stretch of it. And finally, finally- the fire in his veins began to recede, ebbing like dying embers. The burn didn’t vanish, but it dulled, retreating enough that he could think without choking on a scream.

Hands touched him again.

He flinched- at least, he tried to- body twitching, it was progress. He still couldn’t focus on their faces, only the sensations: cold pads pressed to his temples; rough skin brushing his cheeks; plastic and metal clipped to his fingers, and bare feet. Something adhesive pulled against his skin. Wires dragged over his ribs, slithering like vines.

Feeling was returning faster and with it, more pain.

Needles slid into the crooks of his arms, one after the other. His skin crawled under the feelings: the pinch, the pressure, the slow throb as something was pushed into him. Fingers tapped along his veins, searching for more places to pierce. Gloves hands prodded his ribs, pressed into still unhealed bruises, tugged at restraints. They moved him like he was nothing more than a damaged slab of meat.

He tried to ignore it, tried to stay somewhere else- somewhere safe.

He searched for him again. That someone. That face.

Who was he? Did he- did he give him that name?

Beautiful. That’s he was, all wild curls and soft eyes and a smile that glowed even in the darkness. He could see it- just barely- dark curls bouncing as he laughed, tripping over his own feet, reaching out to grab him. -Gorgeous.- That word felt too soft for the memory. Too human.

“Begin.” That same voice dragged him from his thoughts. Sharp. Final.

Then the world shattered.

A scream ripped itself from his throat- raw, animal, unstoppable- as something vicious pumped through his veins. It wasn’t fire this time, fire would’ve been a mercy. This was molten metal, glass shards, lightning under his skin- burning and freezing all at once, racing through his bloodstream like it wanted to tear him apart.

His back bowed off the table, muscles seizing so hard they felt like they might snap. His head wrenched against the straps until they creaked. He tried to twist away, tried to thrash free, tried to run, but he was kept locked down, restraints slicing into his skin. All he could do was scream- high, hoarse, endless.

It didn’t stop.

It didn’t stop.

It didn’t stop.

---

It was like surfacing through thick water. Ever so slowly he opened his eyes. The ceiling above came into focus: plain grey, lined with faint cracks he knew by hearts. His breath caught sharp in his throat, he knew this ceiling. He knew this room. How long has it been since he was here?

He laid still for a moment, letting reality settle into his bones.

He was… Steve. He was Steve.

He clung to the name like it might disappear if he didn’t repeat it. -Steve.. I’m Steve.- He flexed his fingers one by one, just to make sure they were there. He curled his toes against the thin sheet draped over him, head turning just slightly, though the collar- thick and heavy- pressed tight against his skin, reminding him it was still there. Still locked.

This room… He knew it. Somehow. It whispered in the corners of his mind- familiar, yet blurred by layers of fog.

And then the memories came.

Not in fragments this time. Not in jagged flashes. But all at once- heavy, merciless.

Steve could remember it all now. Being dragged to the lab. The cold metal beneath his back, needles, screaming, begging. The cracks of bones that weren’t his- until they were. Remembers knowing that no one was coming for him. He remembers the moment the pain broke him so completely he’d whispered yes. Yes, he’d do anything, anything, just to make it stop.

So he did.

He’d obeyed. Let Brenner place a hand under his chin and call him a good boy. Worked with the scientists, listened to the orders piped through speakers, let them test how far they could push him. He remembers the Pitt- dark, damp, full of teeth and blood- and how they sent him in again and again. How each time he came out alive, they clapped like he was some performing animal. He remembers using his powers- flinging demodogs apart, crushing bones without flinching. He remembers the taste of bile after they first made him kill a man for trying to run. For knowing too much.

And this room?

He’d earned it.

Four walls and a locked door, a king sized bed, a private bathroom, and a large bookshelf that held rows of books, art supplies, notebooks, tapes and even a radio. There was a window here- even if it was fake. He had plush pillows, a soft blanket, he could even control the temperature in here. There was a minifridge, a tray of snacks that would be refilled with a single demand, and a microwave too. It was his reward.

Muscles trembling, he pushed himself upright. Pain lanced through his chest, up his spine, sharp enough to rip a strained groan from his sore throat. His healing stirred awake, knitting muscle and mending bruises faster than they could settle. His hand rose shakily to massage the back of his neck, fingers brushing the edge of the collar.

He looked around.

The bookshelf sat next to the window, still overflowing- fantasy novels, old poetry collections, sketchbooks with curling corners. His battered sweater was draped over the chair at his desk directly next to it, sleeves handing as if waiting for him. There were pencils scattered across the surface, one broken clean in half. The bathroom on the other side of the room had the door slightly ajar, light flickering inside like it had never been turned off.

It all looked untouched. As if he’d only stepped out a minute. As if he hadn’t been dragged away.

His throat tightened.

The air tasted cold, recycled- too clean, too fake. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feet brushing chilled tile. The collar hummed faintly, as though sensing movement. For a second, he just sat there, elbows on his knees, head bowed. His hair hung messily over his eyes so he dragged a shaking hand through it, wincing at the tangled and dried blood.

-I remember.-

All of it.

He swallowed, hard.

And then another memory surfaced- softer than the others. Dark curls, a smile that made his chest ache, a calloused hand holding his. A voice calling him sweetheart, Stevie. Calling him human.

There was a soft knock at the door.

Steve’s spine straightened, instinct overriding exhaustion. Whatever flicker of fear or confusion still lingering on his face was wiped clean in an instant. His expression smoothed into something empty, unreadable. By the time the door clicked open, he was composed- shoulders relaxed, jaw unclenched, eyes devoid of anything too alive. A familiar mask.

Brenner peaked in before stepping inside, that familiar practiced warmth sliding easily onto his features. “Ah, Steven.” His voice was calm, almost delighted. “Wonderful, you’re awake. I started to worry, you’ve been asleep for over a week. How do you feel?” -Never a real answer with you. Over a week could be anything. Eight days, a year, who knows.-

Steve didn’t answer at first, he simply blinked, feigning sluggishness as he lowered his feet to the floor. His toes brushed the soft lining of slippers placed nearly beside the bed- right where he’d always left them. Muscle memory guided him into them without thought.

Only then did he look up at Brenner, shadowed eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“You took my memories,” he stated. It wasn’t a question. It was almost.. A reminder.

Brenner paused, just for a second. “Yes,” he said it slowly, hands folding behind his back. “We did.”

Steve stood slowly, deliberate in every movement. His voice cracked faintly, body still healing, but his posture was calm, composed. He stepped close, head tilted just enough to seem curious- never confrontational.

“You took my memories,” he repeated, quieter now. “I do hope it was worth it.” His gaze sharpened. “Because I had to put up with them.”

A flicker of something- guilt? Amusement?- passed through Brenner’s eyes. But Steve didn’t stop.

“Do you know what it’s like to wake up every day knowing you’re missing pieces?” He asked, tone smooth, almost conversational. “To feel yourself… Slipping?” He gave a soft scoff. “But I didn’t break. I adapted. Just like you knew I would.” He took another step toward Brenner. Close enough now that his breath could hit the man’s face if he exhaled too sharply, he didn’t.

Brenner smiled. “You were always my strongest. My most dedicated.” He spoke softly, like a proud father. “And you still are, aren’t you, Steven?”

Steve’s lips twitched- not into a smile, but something distant, unreadable. “You trained me to be.” His eyes drifted past Brenner, toward the small metal table next to the door- where his old gloves lay folded beside a worn stack of reports, his reports. Hand written. Precise. Notes for things only he could understand.

Experiments he had overseen. Tests he had suggested.

He remembered now.

He remembered agreeing.

He remembered why.

His throat bobbed with a quiet swallow. “Is he alive?” The words slipped out softer than he meant. Too fragile.

Brenner stilled only for a moment, then his brow lifted, amusement flickering over his face like a smirk he hadn’t yet given permission to form. “He is,” he said calmly, “why do you ask, Steven? Have you developed real feelings for him?”

He didn’t flinch, just lifted one brow in return, mirroring Brenner’s composure with chilling accuracy. His face stayed carefully blank, voice flat and clipped. “I liked him before we came here. And I enjoyed his company these last few months.” He paused, eyes holding the older man’s. “Now that my memories are back.. I remember you saying I could request my own reward if I braved that last test. Does that still stand?”

Silence lingered- thick, suspended like a held breath.

Then Brenner’s lips curled, just slightly. A smile that wasn’t kind, but… Pleased. Indulgent. “I do always keep my word,” he responded, tone light, warm- like they were discussing a favor, not a life. “If you are asking for him as your reward, it will have to wait.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, suppressing a growl. Brenner stepped forward, voice turning almost playful as he continued.

“At the moment, he’s undergoing a new test we’ve developed. Quite exciting really.” He spoke as though giving a child an early peek at a wrapped present. “Should it prove fruitful, he can be yours.”

Cold washed over Steve- but Brenner only looked delighted, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “Think of it… As a gift, for everything you’ve given me.” His smile widened, patronizing, fond. “But of course,” he added gently, “there will be rules.”

Steve didn’t move. The quiet between them stretched thin, tremulous like a spider’s web just before it breaks. Brenner watched him, head angled slightly, eyes bright with something cold and expectant. When he finally continued, his voice dropped into something soft and patronizing- the tone one might use to teach a child about consequences.

“Should you choose to keep a pet,” Brenner murmured as he slowly began to walk around the room, looking over the items lying around, “you’ll have to care for it yourself.” His words floated in the sterile air as his eyes gleamed. “Feed it. Manage it. Keep it from hurting anyone, or break it- however you see fit.” A thin smile crept across his face again. “That responsibility would be entirely yours.”

His lashes lowered, gaze fixed on the faint reflection in the polished floor. A soft hum left him, thoughtful, as though he was considering it. Still, something coiled beneath his skin, something restless and tightly held. “And he’d be entirely mine, correct?” He asked at last, voice level, almost casual, but something crawling beneath it, something sharp, something possessive. “He wouldn’t just be taken from me and disposed of?”

Brenner’s lips curled, pleased. “We would still need him for tests, of course. But yes. He would belong to you.” Steve’s eyes flickered up, unreadable, catching Brenner’s as the man went on, voice becoming almost generous now. “And should he prove.. Difficult.. We could even remove those pesky memories of freedom. As a gift to you, naturally.” His smile widened, not kindly. “It would make him far more compliant, though it would take more time down in the labs.”

Another quiet hum escaped him, this one carrying a faint, almost curious lilt. His head tipped slightly, as though intrigued by the offer. “I’ll keep that in mind.” His voice shifted into something contemplative. “Mm.. I’ll let you know my decision on the reward once this current experiment is finished.”

He straightened his back, expression cooling as he shifts the topic. “How are the new.. Subjects faring?” His brow arched with clinical interest, the question cut as impersonal as a scalpel.

Brenner stopped at his bookshelf, fingertips drifting across the dustless rows of well-worn spines as though selecting a memory rather than a book. His gaze slid over his shoulder, lingering on Steve with calculated interest. “A rather unruly sort,” he mused. “We’re not taking any chances- they’re confused, monitored, properly sedated when necessary.” He turned fully then, folding his hands behind his back. “Any suggestions on how we should handle them?”

He gave a low, absent hum in response- not agreement, not denial, merely acknowledgement as he drifted toward the metal half table by the door, the fluorescents overhead flickering faintly against the sheen of stainless steel. His fingers brushed across the scattered reports, clinical, detached, as though he were sifting through old files rather than human lives.

“They’re all talk,” he said quietly, flipping open a folder without really looking at it, a woman’s picture staring back at him. “A few of them have the spine to act, but most just run their mouths and wait for someone else to make sacrifices for them.” His voice barely shifted, calm, cold. “Eleven is the only one of them who may cause an actual problem. The rest?” A faint shrug. “They were lost the moment I stopped leading them. Escaping? Not a chance.”

Brenner tiled his head, curious. “And how do you figure Eleven may be an issue?” He plucked a book from the shelf- thin, worn leather, an old poetry book he’d given as a gift- and opened it delicately, as though the words inside mattered.

He tracked the movement from the corner of his eye, staring. “Well.. She’s collared, for now. So it’s unlikely anything will happen immediately.” His eyes narrowed- still blank, but feeling mild irritation as Brenner touched his things. “But your staff… Some of them get… Sentimental. And of course pity makes people reckless. They might try to help them.”

“As they tried with you.” Brenner interjected, tone soft but cutting.

A soft hum. No guilt. No shame. Just acknowledgement. “Mm. Yes. Though you had me kill them to set an example.” The words were flat, delivered as casually as a report on the weather above. “I could do the same now. Fear is efficient. They’d stop trying.. But your new staff…” He finally looked up, eyes hollow and thoughtful. “They don’t fear me the way the others used to.”

Brenner closed the book slowly, and slid it back into its place with care, as though shelving the conversation along with it. Then he approached, steps measured, until he stood directly in front of Steve. He lifted a hand, fingers lightly taking Steve’s chin, tilting his head up, thumb tracing along the sharp line of his jaw- affectionate in gesture, but entirely devoid of warmth.

“Oh,” Brenner murmured, voice silk-wrapped steel, “but they will.”

He stared back, expression empty, unmoved by the touch. “I’m sure,” he replied softly. “But at the moment, they don’t, not really. They’ve only heard stories of what I can do.” His gaze didn’t shift, didn’t flinch. “Unless of course, you’re showing my security footage to every new recruit.”

A faint smile twitched at the corner of Brenner’s mouth. “Only the necessary parts,” he said, releasing Steve’s chin with a soft pat, like one might give to a well-trained dog. “Fear must be cultivated. Too much all at once, and they break uselessly.”

Steve smoothed the front of his plain grey shift where Brenner had touched it, more out of habit than discomfort. “If you want them to learn, let them watch,” he kept his voice low, almost bored. “Let them understand the price they’ll pay when they disobey.”

Brenner’s smile widened, pleased. “Perhaps I will. I’ve missed our chats Steven, you always find new ways to surprise me.”

His eyes flicked back to the reports, already done with the conversation, his voice a quiet murmur. “Do let me know when I’m needed. And when Munson is finished, I expect to be informed.. Immediately.”

“Of course,” Brenner replied smoothly. “After all- he may soon be yours.”

He didn’t respond, simply reached over and turned the page in the folder, paper crinkling under his fingers. Detached. Unbothered. Somewhere down the hall, a distant scream echoed, muffled by steel and concrete. Neither of them reacted.

“I expect to be granted some respite, all things considered.” Steve eventually broke the quiet. He watched Brenner from the corner of his eye as the older man moved to his desk, thumbing through papers, touching objects that did not belong to him.

Brenner looked up slowly, as if the request were something delicate, almost amusing to him. “Hmm? Oh. Oh, yes, of course.” He waved a hand dismissively, though his eyes remained keen. “You’ll be allowed your usual freedoms. Admin rooms, the library, your room of course. But there will be.. Some additional restrictions, just for a little while. You’ll be monitored, just to ensure there are no.. Complications, with reintegration.”

Steve turned fully then, motioning to the collar around his neck, the metal glinting dully under the harsh overhead lights. “And this?” He slowly moved to clasp his hands behind his back. “How long will I be forced to keep it on?”

“Only for the monitoring period. Just in case your mind makes a problem and you try to hurt yourself.” Brenner replied smoothly, though of course never giving a proper answer. He shut the drawer he’d begun to open and walks back to him, footsteps slow, deliberate. “Should all go as planned, everything will be back to normal soon.” He rested a hand on Steve’s shoulder, the grip light. “Do try to relax, Steven. You’ve done exceptionally well. Munson and his ilk have been brought home, broken.”

He glanced at the hand on his shoulder before slowly looking back at the man in front of him. The muscle in his jaw tightened, but his expression remained unreadable. “I never asked, what do you plan on doing with the new… Occupants?”

Brenner’s hand gave a small, careful squeeze before his fingers lifted to skim along Steve’s cheekbone. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Steve stared back at him without blinking, blank-eyed, calm. The touch didn’t move him in the slightest, just something he was used to. “I don’t recommend removing Eleven from Hopper’s sight. It will only result in resistance. Even if you attempt to sedate him, he’ll try to fight. And if he fights, the others will too.”

He got a thoughtful hum in response, the fingers continuing their gentle path.

“Keep them together,” Steve continued, voice steady, cool. “If one is taken from their group, they’ll find the energy to fight back. But if they stay together, if they see each other alive, breathing, they’ll stay calm. Complacent.”

“I see.” Brenner’s brow lifted with vague interest. “You do know them best. So I suppose I shall take your suggestions.” His fingers brushed once more along Steve’s cheek, slow and approving. “Until they attempt to break out, that is.”

He said nothing.

The smile he got in return was wide, soft, fond. “You look tired,” Brenner murmured. “Would you like to rest? Or would you prefer to visit the observation room with me? Unfortunately, Munson’s tests will take some time, another week at least, but his friends are under surveillance. As well as some new things I think you’d be very interested to see.”

There was a pause.

A silence stretched around them as he thought it over. -Something.. New? Mm, probably not anything good.- His eyes lowered, lashes shadowing his expression, voice coming quiet now. “Not yet, I am still a bit exhausted. I’ll rest in here for a while, then come find you.”

Brenner nodded, pleased. “Very well. I’ll have someone wait down the hall to escort you. And later- when you’re ready- we can discuss your reward again.” He started toward the door, then hesitated, glancing back. “And, Steven?”

He looked up, wordless.

Brenner’s smile softened into something disturbingly gentle. “You’ve done more than I could have asked for. You’ve been loyal. Consistent. Everything I knew you could be.” There was a calm pause before he continued. “Don’t disappoint me now.”

The door shut behind him with a quiet click.

Silence was all that was left now, heavy and familiar. The room felt the same and entirely different all at once. His carefully clawed up sweater still lay draped over the back of the chair. A book was propped on his nightstand, exactly as he’d left it. A sketch- half finished- rested on the desk, charcoal smudged along the edge of the page. It was as if he’d never disappeared. As if months of blood and screaming hadn’t happened.

He stood in the center of the room and breathed in slowly, letting his senses expand. The air tasted like dust and lavender soap- the same scent that had been pumped through the vents of years to keep the place “calming”. His hand lifted to the collar at his throat. The skin beneath was tender, rubbing raw where metal scraped skin. It pulsed with every faint heartbeat, a constant reminder.

Rest.
That’s what Brenner wanted from him.

Still, Steve didn’t move toward the bed. -They took my memories…- Instead, his feet carried him to the curved window seat built into the wall next to his bed- fake glass, fake sky, fake freedom. He reached for the remote rest on the nightstand and began quietly cycling through the landscapes. Snow. Ocean. Desert. Until-

A meadow. Wind-tousled grass, tall, a soft green. Leaves shaking in the wind. The soft chirp of artificial birds.

It was calm. Manufactured, but calm.

Steve eased himself onto the cushioned ledge, pressing his palm lightly to the cool surface of the glass. His fingers began to drum against it- slow, rhythmic. He knew the truth. Behind the screen was solid concrete. But still.. He watched the programmed breeze shift the grass, watched fake trees ripple and sway. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t real. It was quiet. It was his. Made for him under the detailed instructions of a dream he’d given the techs, under the threats of breaking their arms should it be wrong.

For a long time he just sat there, and eventually.. His shoulders softened slightly, the weight of his spine easing. Only when the ache in his limbs began to settle did he finally push himself up from the seat.

He crossed the room, locked the door with a click, and began stripping out of the clothes they’d changed him into. The shirt stuck slightly to his skin from sweat- so they hadn’t cleaned him after the experiment. He threw it into the laundry bin with his pants too. He grabbed his blue sweater from the back of the chair, and a pair of grey sweatpants from the wardrobe, draping them over his arm as he headed for the bathroom. Brenner’s hand- on his shoulder, on his face- lingered in the back of his mind like grime under his nails. That, paired with not knowing how long he’d been strapped down in that room, left his skin crawling.

He flicked on the bathroom light, a sterile brightness buzzing overhead. The room was larger than it had any right to be, a cavern of sleek tile and polished metal. Straight ahead loomed a passive shower, easily able to hold over half the party at once. It boasted several oversized rainfall showerheads mounted above, multiple powerful jets embedded in the walls, and detachable sprayers angled around the walls. Beside it sat a deep rub, spacious enough to hold three fully grown adults with room to spare. He draped the clean clothes over the ledge of the tub, before studying over to the shower and twisting each of the red knobs all the way on.

Steam billowed almost instantly, thick and growing heavy, curling through the air like a living thing. It clung to the glass walls, obscuring the outside world as if the room itself sought to shield him. He stepped in without a second of hesitation. The first blast of scalding water was sharp- almost violent against the ice inside him- a shock that jolted through him before melting into something deeper, something soothing as it seeped into the knots buried in his muscles, unraveling the tension that had coiled there for months. He tipped his head back, eyes sliding shut as the water streamed over his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, slipping down the column of his throat, stinging past the collar, rolling down his chest.

At first his movements were mechanical, driven by a need to erase. He reached for his favorite shampoo on the built in shelf, something he’d demanded from them, squirting a generous dollop into his palm before working it into his hair. He leathered once, twice, rising each time under the calming spray, watching dark rivulets swirl down the drain. Then conditioner, massaged in with the same mechanical movements. His fingers dug into his scalp with purpose, nails scraping lightly as if he could claw away the grime, the sweat, the dried blood that clung to him like a second skin. It was gone now.. Mostly. So he leaned forward, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, the spray hammering against the back of his skull, a steady drumbeat that drowned out the echoes of Brenner’s voice, the hiss of the lab, the cold metal of restraints.

Soap came next. He went for the bar instead of the liquid, wanting to just get it over with. The sharp, clean scent cut through the steam. He began with his arms, scrubbing hard, the rough texture of the bar grating against his skin as he worked over his forearms, biceps, up to his shoulders, scrubbing as if he could erase the memory of hands there. His throat, carefully around the collar. Down to his ribs, his movements growing almost angry, especially over the spots Brenner had touched. His cheeks, where fingers had lingered too long, was rubbed almost raw. His shoulder, where a hand had pressed, was scoured until the skin tingled under the heat. He wanted every trace gone- the lab’s sterile stench, the lingering ghost of disinfectants, the invisible fingerprints of those who’d handled him like a specimen.

But as the minutes stretched on, his urgency waned. The heat of the water, relentless and punishing, began to coax a different response from him. It didn’t burn him- couldn't, not really- but it reddened his skin, flushed it with a warmth he hadn’t felt in too long. He slowed down, allowing the soap to slide rather than scrape. He moved it over his chest again, tracing slowly, the subs slipping down in gentle rivers. His touch softened as he dragged the bar over the dip of his sternum, following the faint ridges of muscle that leg to his stomach. Each stroke was deliberate now, less about cleaning and more about feeling- reclaiming his own skin after who knows how many hands touched him.

His hand moved lower, the soap gliding over the sharp cut of his hips. He lingered there, letting the edge of the bar tease along the line where skin met bone, the water amplifying every sensation as it sluiced off in sheets. His breath hitched softly, not from pain or anger, but from the simplicity of touch, of warmth after so much cold. He guided the soap further, letting it skim over the trail of dark hair that started just below his navel. His fingers followed, abandoning the bar for a moment as they threaded through the coarse strands below, slow and unhurried, exploring the familiar yet somehow distant texture. It felt nice, a quiet reminder of himself beneath the layers of trauma.

Then, his hand drifted lower still, fingers brushing lightly down the length of his cock. There was no rush, no intent beyond sensation. Just the warmth of the water, the faint slickness of soap lingering on his skin, and the gentle pressure of his own touch. He let his palm rest there for a moment, feeling the weight of himself, the subtle pulse beneath the surface. His movements were languid, almost reverent, as he traced the shape of his shaft down to the base and back up, letting the heat of the shower amplify every small motion. It wasn’t about getting off, not entirely- just a quiet reconnection, a moment of peace in a body that had been stripped of itself for so long. A reminder he was alive.

He stood there, unmoving for a while, one hand bracing against the tiled wall as the water pounded down his back. Steam curled around him, thick and warm, filling his lungs with something other than the chemical tang of the lab below. The heat was grounding, a stark contrast to the icy void still deep inside him. He didn’t turn it down, didn’t want to. It was too hot for most, but for him, it was perfect- a reminder that he could still feel something other than rage or loss.

Slowly, he straightened, his movements unhurried, and placed the bar of soap back on the built-in shelf. His gaze drifted back down, lingering on his own body, over the flushed skin from the hot water, over year old scars. His hand remained braced against the wall, fingers splayed wide against the cool tile for balance, while the other hesitated for a second before dropping lower. His palm found his cock again, fingers curling around the base with a tentative grip at first, simply feeling the weight of himself in hand.

At first, he was slow, almost exploratory as if learning himself all over again. His hand moved up the length, a gentle stroke that sent a faint shiver through him. He let his thumb brush over the sensitive tip, teasing himself with the lightest touches, the slickness of the water easing his motion, down, then up again, a lazy rhythm that felt like reclaiming himself. But the need beneath it grew, a restless ache that clawed at him, demanding more. He tightened his grip, fingers pressing tighter as his strokes quickened, turning from a gentle exploration into something rougher, more insistent.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, the word barely audible, a raw edge to it as he pushed himself further. His hand moved faster now, jerking with a force that bordered on harsh, the friction just shy of painful but still sparking pleasure through his core. He needed this- needed to feel something real, something that wasn’t the cold or the phantom touch of hands that weren’t his own. Occasionally, he tugged too hard, a sharp sting shooting through him as he pulled at himself with too much aggression, body jolting slightly at the sensation. “Shit,” he hissed, wincing, but not stopping, the brief pain mixing with the building heat in a way that only drove him further.

He teased himself too, slowing down just as the pressure started to coil tight in his gut, dragging his thumb over the head again, circling with deliberate, agonizing slowness. His hips twitched forward involuntarily, chasing the touch, but he forced himself to hold back, drawing it out even as his body screamed for release. Then, without warning, he gripped tighter, pulling rough again, the sudden shift pulled a low, ragged breath from his chest. The roughness was a dull ache, a hurt that reminded him he was still here, still alive in some fucked-up way.

“Goddamn it,” he growled, voice dropping low, gravelly, teeth gritted as he pushed himself closer to the edge. He leaned closer to the wall, forehead thumping against it, muscles in his free arm flexing taut, his other hand now working with a desperate, almost punishing rhythm. The heat built, a tight, searing coil low in his abdomen, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He didn’t want to. He needed the release, needed to feel something break free after so long of being caged in every way imaginable.

When it hit, it was overwhelming, a wave cashing through him with a force that nearly sent him to his knees. His cock pulsed in hand, and he came- harder- obscenely, thick heavy streaks splashing against the tiled wall in front of him. Long, white ribbons splattering against the surface, dripping down in heavy puddles, far more than he thought possible, even for him. His legs shook with the intensity of it, trembling beneath him as his body tensed, every muscle locking tight. His eyes fluttered, rolling back slightly, vision swimming with the force of his orgasm tearing free. He bit down hard on his lower tip, the sharp sting of his lip tearing and healing didn’t lessen his pleasure, it only had him biting back the moan that threatened to rip free of his throat- a sound so light it might have echoed to the floors above.

“Fuck.. Fuck!” He panted, voice a broken whisper as his hips thrust forward, legs threatening to give out. With a whine he gave one last rough jerk as the last spurts painted the wall. He closed his eyes, chest heaving, breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps as he leaned heavier against the wall, barely holding himself upright as the aftershocks rippled through him, hand still loosely wrapped around himself, sticky and slick. He just stood there, water pouring over him, cum dripping over his hand.

With a whine he pushed himself up, forehead still resting against the cool tile as his clean hand reached for one of the sprayers. He yanked it out of its holder, turning it on with a press of its button. The gentle spray washed over his hand as he guided it over himself, over the floor, washing the murky white water down the draining. He blinked slowly, lazily, watching the water swirl. With a soft sigh he placed the sprayer back into its holder, closing his eyes again, letting the water wash over his back.

Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty, maybe. Time blurred under the relaxing rhythm of the shower. He didn’t care. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to simply be- standing still beneath the stream, breathing in the heat, letting it seep into his bones. The thought of Eddie flickered through his mind, a pang of longing that tightened his chest, but he pushed it aside for now, letting the water wash it away with the rest.

Eventually, he reached out with a slow, heavy motion, twisting the knobs until the water cut off. The sudden silence was jarring, the only sound now the soft drip of droplets falling from his body to the tiled floor. He stood there, dripping, steam still swirling lazily around him, clinging to his skin like a soft embrace. For a moment, he didn’t move, just let the quiet wrap around him, a fragile peace after the storm of everything that’s happened over the past few days.. Weeks? He isn’t sure.

Eventually, he left the shower, grabbing one of the oversized towels- white, soft, heavier than it looked- and wrapped it around his shoulders. He dried his hair, chest, hands. Slow, methodical strokes that didn’t feel like scrubbing, but like.. Returning. He lazily pulled on his sweatpants, sweater, a yawn pulling free as he ran a hand through his damp hair. He brought the collar of the sweater to his nose and breathed in- detergent, charcoal, the faint must of the library. Comforting in the strangest way.

When Steve left the bathroom, steam followed him like fog.

He crossed the room, flicking the lights low, before falling backward onto the bed with a quiet, exhausted groan. His legs dangled off the edge, arms splayed over the mattress, chest rising and falling faintly once again, breaths coming in slow, normal.

The ceiling above was the same dull gray as always. He stared for a while, thought much clearer than when he’d first woken up.

-They’d taken my fucking memories.- He blinked slowly, eyes tracing over the faint paint lines. -Dicks… At least they didn’t take the new ones.- His jaw clenched. -I’m going to get him back. My Eddie.- The thought was quiet, but sure. His breathing slowed, the artificial meadow still shifting softly in the background, and for the first time in a long while, his body began to sink- just slightly- into something that resembled rest.

---

He groaned softly, waking to a quiet knock on his door- three hesitant taps, barely audible through the thick metal. “Excuse me?” came the voice of a woman, muffled yet tinged with apprehension, though it echoed in his ears. He could smell her nerves even from his bed. He lay still for a heartbeat longer, heavy blanket tangled around his legs, before he let out a low grunt and forced himself up. The room was dim, but his eyes quickly adjusted to see, the artificial lights overhead still set to low morning glow. He scrubbed a hand over his face, jaw tense. Another knock.

With an annoyed huff, he pushed up from the bed and crossed the room, unlocked the door, and cracked it open just enough to peak out. “What?” The word came out nearly a growl, rough-edged from sleep and irritation.

The woman startled, taking a step back though she still held tight to a tray in her hands. She wore a matte-black uniform of the guards- utility belt, stun baton, sidearm. He recognized her face vaguely; she’d stood by the eastern corridor once while he’d passed.. Maybe? “I… Sorry. I was assigned to bring you breakfast. Since you slept through dinner last night.. Sir.” She wouldn’t meet his eye.

Steve exhaled, long and slow. The exhaustion still clung to his bones, weighty and unwelcome. “Right.. Yeah. Give it here.” He reached out and took the tray from her before she could step closer. “Tell Brenner I’ll be down to the observation room in a little while.” He didn’t wait for her acknowledgement, shutting the door with a dull thud.

He carried the tray to his desk and set it down. For a moment he only stood and stared. The steam curled in lazy ribbons from the sections: fresh eggs- real, not the powdered substitute they had once fed him when his memories had been stripped away- two slices of golden french toast dusted lightly with sugar, a plump blueberry muffin, a small bowl of assorted fruit, and a large bottle of orange juice beading with condensation. To the side, a dark ceramic mug. Blood, fresh from the smell of it. And human. The scent was unmistakable, rich and metallic, cutting sharply through the sweeter aromas.

A groan escaped him as he pulled out the chair and sat. Only then did he realize how hollow his body felt. How long had it been since he ate, how long was he asleep? He reached first for the mug, fingers wrapping around its warmth. He lifted it and drank deeply, not waiting for it to cool. The hot metallic taste coated his tongue, slid down his throat like fire and silk and his healing quickly worked to fix the burns. How long had he been in that lab? The hunger in him snarled at the memory.

He didn’t stop until the mug was empty. Only after did he begin on the eggs, devouring them quickly, shoveling them into his mouth. Then, gradually slowing as the sharp edge of hunger faded and control resettled over him -I guess I was more exhausted than I thought.-

He finished the tray faster than he knew he should have, but didn’t care. He wiped his mouth with the provided napkin, stood, and left the dishes on the tray. He didn’t bother changing, or even putting on shoes, just letting the cold mask he needed fall back into place. He pulled open a desk drawer, retrieved a single key, and carried the tray to the door.

The concrete floor was cold under his toes as he stepped into the hall, locking the door behind him with a soft click. He tossed the tray onto the small table beside the frame- someone would collect it soon enough. Without a glance around, he turned and started off down the hall.

His escort joined silently a few doors down- a man this time, dressed similarly to the woman, expression blank, eyes averted. They didn’t speak. The hall itself was quiet except for the faint hum of the overhead lights and the distant echo of footsteps from deeper within the facility. Sterile grey walls. Security cameras in every corner. The faint scent of disinfectant and something.. Deeper.

Steve’s pace was steady, unhurried but purposeful. He didn’t acknowledge anyone he passed, though he could feel their eyes flick toward him, then away just as quickly. He stopped in front of a reinforced door, brushed his thumb across the keypad, and punched in his personal code. The lock disengaged with a soft beep, and the door slid open.

The observation room was dimly lit, filled with monitors displaying feeds from various sectors of the Lab. A handful of technicians moved quietly between stations, he ignored them all. Brenner stood at the center console, leaning over a control panel, eyes fixed on a screen.

It took a few minutes before the man looked back, almost surprised. “Ah, Steven, wonderful. I was beginning to get worried when you didn’t show last night.”

“Apologies. I was more tired than I thought.” His voice was flat, polite only on the surface.

Brenner turned around then, scanning him head to toe as though assessing for damage. “Are you well? No headaches? Muscle weakness? Dizziness?”

He shook his head, once. “No. I’m fine, just exhausted. I don’t believe I’ve been sleeping properly for some time. Putting that on top of whatever they did to me down there.” His gaze drifted past Brenner to the wall of monitors. “You said something about.. Seeing something new?”

“Oh yes, yes. Come. Look.” Brenner’s voice held that familiar restrained excitement as he turned back to the console, fingers dancing over the illuminated keys. Once by one, surveillance feeds shifted across the wall of screens. “You see, we had a considerable amount of your blood left over after your escape. So naturally, we began to run a few experiments. Most were- well, disappointing. Uncooperative subjects. Inconclusive data. But this,” he tapped a key, bringing up a new set of security feeds, “this was something unexpected. Something we could not have anticipated in the slightest.”

Steve stepped closer as the screens flickered with older footage, grainy from the low lighting of the containment chambers. He folded his arms, jaw tight.

On one feed, a demogorgon occupied the center of a reinforced room. The floor was slick with.. Blood, dark and glistening under the low lights. At first glance it looked like carnage, until the creature moved. Not with the violent jerks of feeding, but slowly- rolling. It lowered itself onto the mess, pressing its open petaled face into the stain like something savoring warmth. It rubbed its shoulders into the puddle, almost melting into it, limbs lax, movements bizarrely.. Content.

He blinked slowly, watching on confused. -It’s acting like… Like a cat?- It was the only comparison his mind could find.

Glancing over to the second feed didn’t make things any clearer. Three demodogs this time, each sprawling on the blood-slick floor in their shared containment cell. They rolled onto their backs, claws tucked close, mouths wrapped closed. One rubbed a closed petaled face against the wall before sliding back into the red, sighing out a low rumbling growl that- if he didn’t know better- resembled a purr. -What.. The fuck.-

The third and final feed held one demogorgon and two demodogs together in a larger cell. Instead of tearing each other apart or trying to break free, they ignored one another entirely. All three were preoccupied- writhing lazily in a pooled smear of red across the concrete. Peaceful. Docile.

The silence in the room felt suffocating.

“We discovered this only recently, and by accident too.” Brenner said at last. Steve almost wanted to jolt in surprise. Instead, he kept his eyes on the screens, watching him from the corner of his eye. The older man clapped his hands behind his back, posture infused with academic pride. “It is particularly fascinating given your history with them. You’ve fought them multiple times, killed many of them and they’ve never shown any hesitation or shift in behavior. Yet.. Your blood- only your blood- seems to elicit this reaction.”

Steve remained motionless, the flicker of the monitors reflecting in his eyes.

“Instead of these ravenous killers, they’ve become.. Well, this.” Brenner gestured with a vague flick of his hand toward the creatures rolling languidly on-screen. “Relaxed. Calm. Distracted. We ran hundreds of tests on your blood and found nothing chemically unique enough to explain this reaction. Yet to them-” he nodded to the screens, “-it’s like catnip.”

“I.. See.” His voice was quiet. -What… The.. Fuck..- The silence returned, stretching thin as he watched the recordings. He flicked his eyes over to the older man for a moment. “And they seem less aggressive with it?”

“Remarkably so.” Brenner’s smile sharpened as he leaned back over the controls, pulling up another set of files. “After your escape, we discovered several traitors among the staff. Since you were not here to deal with them, we.. Improvised.”

One monitor lit with a timestamped recording. A man, human, shoved into the containment room with a single demogorgon, the door slamming shut behind him. He was beaten and bloody, almost drenched with it- shirt, hands, face. Within seconds, the creature lunged, tearing him apart.

The next clip played immediately after. Another prisoner. This one trembling, clutching the front of a vest that held small vials strapped across it. “We sent this one in with sealed samples of your blood. They attacked- of course- but one of the vials broke when he fell.” Brenner paused the feed. The demogorgon frozen mid-motion, its petaled face lifting as if to sniff the air. “It stopped, immediately. Lost interest.”

The next feed came up. Another man, his clothes and face smeared lightly in blood. No vials, no weapons. He stood shaking in the center of the cell. The demogorgon passed by him- brushed his shoulder- but did nothing. It walked around him, lowered itself onto the dried puddle of blood, and rolled.

“We painted that one with your blood.. Absolutely nothing.” Brenner’s voice held quiet wonder. “They didn’t grow aggressive. They didn’t even care. Some behaved like they were- rolling, relaxing.” His lips curled up, delighted. “The man sat there for hours, unharmed. They didn’t touch him. It was.. Extraordinary.”

Steve’s expression didn’t change, but something cold shifted behind his eyes. On the screens, claws dragged lazily across stone. No snarling, no violence. Just eerie, unnatural calm. The footage kept looping- the creatures that haunted his nightmares rolling like housecats in crimson pools. The only sounds echoing in his head were the hum of the lights and the soft static of the monitors, he couldn’t even hear Brenner anymore, as the man prattled on about the data. His fingers flexed slowly at his sides. -They’re not supposed to act like… Like.. That.- His mind whispered, cold, analytical. -They’re supposed to hunt, tear, act like monsters.- He should’ve felt something like horror, fear, disgust even.

Instead, all he felt was a quiet curiosity.

His reflection ghosted across the glass of the monitors with each flicker- collar at his throat, dark shadows under his eyes, expression empty. He wondered if he looked more like them or more like us anymore. Perhaps something else entirely.

Finally, he spoke.

“…How much?” His voice was soft, almost whispered, but steady.

Brenner blinked, turning back to look at him. “How much?”

“How much blood does it take to trigger that response?” Steve clarified without looking away from the screens, the feeds having switched to show the live feeds. “A vial? A smear? How diluted can it be?”

Brenner’s lips curved slowly with a smile, pleased with him. “Not much at all, actually. A few milliliters. We tried it all, we can dilute it over eighty-five percent and still get their attention. We would’ve tried more but we ran out of subjects. Fresh, of course, is best. But dried- even days old- still triggered curiosity, if not full immersion like you see here. We applied those I believe.. Four days ago now?”

Steve watched as one demodog nudged a partially open petal into a dried puddle, claws clicking against concrete. His voice was even, emotionless again. “So, theoretically, if you wanted to transport them without sedation -you’d be an idiot-.. Or control them, even temporarily -if you want to die-… You could use.. Me.”

A deep chuckle echoed in the quiet room, Brenner’s shoulders shaking in delight. “You catch on so quickly, Steven. Truly, I was just telling them,” he gestures to the men sitting around the room, “how brilliant you can be.”

His smile in response didn’t reach his eyes.

But inside, he was planning, thoughts moving in cold, careful lines. -Control them. Not just fight them. Not just survive them. But control them..- He imagined it- the demogorgon’s head turning mid-attack, distracted by a single drop of blood. It wouldn’t last forever, but it could be enough.

A tool. A weapon.
Maybe even a negotiation chip.

His fingers reached up to brush absently at the collar on his throat, Brenner’s eyes tracking the movement. The skin underneath felt raw and irritated again, healing and breaking over and over, a constant reminder that he was not free- not really. But freedom didn’t always require keys or broken walls. Sometimes it required leverage.

And blood, apparently.

His jaw tightened briefly as a thought passed by. -If it calms them.. It could protect them too.- The thought drifted in, uninvited. He let it sit for a moment before shuttering it away.

Not now.

On the monitor, a demogorgon rolled its deal in the pool of dried blood, limps splayed like a spoiled pet.

Brenner, of course, eventually broke the quiet again.

“There is.. Something else.” He slowly stepped closer, voice gentling as though he were about to offer Steve a gift. “We’ve begun drafting an idea. Early stages right now.” He looked Steve over, gauging him, his stillness. “We would, of course, need your cooperation.”

His expression didn’t change. “Go on.”

“We could create controlled zones. Chambers. Environments where these creatures are introduced to small, regulated doses of your blood.” Brenner’s tone was almost playful now, proud of his creation. “If it works consistently.. They would remain passive. Contained, but not sedated. A perfect behavioral model.”

He stared at the older man, face unreadable. “And you expect me to supply it indefinitely?”

“Oh, nothing so barbaric as draining you. They only need a miniscule amount after all.” Brenner smiled thinly. “Just occasional samples. Voluntary, of course, it would be while we run these tests to see what could come of it. You would be credited as a collaborator- rather than a subject. We could test it with all different blood from you- fearful, calm, angry, all different sorts.”

Steve let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh- or just exhaustion catching back up. “You’d make me into a leash.”

“You’d make yourself into one.” Brenner corrected. “Which is a very different thing.”

Silence. Again.

Then Steve turned fully from the monitors to face him, eyes dark and unreadable. “And if I refuse?”

Brenner held his gaze for a moment, then he shrugged, it looked almost casual. “Then we go back to the old way. Sedation, brute force, casualties. You know how messy that gets. This new revelation changes things, makes them easier.”

His lips twitched- not a smile, not anger. Just acknowledgement. Finally, he responded. “I’ll consider it.”

Brenner’s satisfaction was immediate. “Wonderful. Take your time. I’d much rather have your consent than your unwilling compliance.. It makes for better data.” As he spoke, the demogorgon on-screen rolled in dried blood like it was a cat basking in sunlight. The soft scrape of its claws was almost peaceful.

He glanced once again at the screens, then back at Brenner. “Is that all?”

“For now,” Brenner nodded. “But I’ll expect your answer soon.” Steve nodded as he took a few steps back, then turned and headed for the door. “And Steven?”

He paused, hand hovering over the handle, without turning to look back.

“Do try and get some more rest today. You look.. Tired.”

His other hand brushed at the collar again. “...Noted.”

“Immedietly inform me if you get any headaches or any unusual symptoms.” Brenner called out as he pulled the door open, leaving without another word.

He walked aimlessly down the hallway, noting that he was alone. The realization of no escort settled in slowly, like a cold draft creeping in. No guards trailing at his heels, no scientists trying to make light conversation, no camera tracking his every step- at least, none that he could hear. Just a familiar open hallway stretching ahead, lit by pale overhead lights that hummed quietly against the concrete. -It doesn’t smell like the others are kept this far up… Probably as to not bother me.. Smart.-

His bare feet made soft, echoing taps in the quiet hall as he moved forward without much direction, hand drifting along the wall beside him, fingertips brushing cool concrete and the occasional metal door. The familiarity of it grounded him in a strange way. Real, solid, but also oddly suffocating.

-Letting me move alone again.. Or was the guard just to make sure I remembered… Hmm.- He didn’t know whether that meant he was trusted again… Or something worse. Confidence, perhaps. They didn’t think he would betray them with his memories back. Or maybe they knew too well that there was nowhere to run to, not anymore. Not with his memories back. Not… Maybe they were just so sure in their ability to subdue him.

Passing one of the observation junctions- thick glass windows looking into control rooms cluttered with monitors and paperwork. A technician glanced up at him, froze, then hurried to look back down at her clipboard as though she’d seen something she wasn’t allowed to. In the next room, a pair of guards half out of uniform stiffened when he came into view. One of them subtly turned away. The other pretended to check the safety on his pistol, even though his hands shook faintly.

Steve slowed his steps for a moment, watching them through the glass, zeroing in on the man's shaking hands. These were faces he recognized from before- after they’d taken his memories- when he was just another asset they carted in and out of holding, when the blood tests were routine and his heart still felt like it belonged to him.

Back then, they had looked him in the eye and sneered at him. Spit in his face.

Now, they didn’t dare even face him.

He continued walking, directionless. The hallways here all looked the same anyway- sterile grey walls, annoying buzzing lights, doors sealed with keypads and reinforced locks. Somewhere far above, the world went on. Wind, leaves, sunlight. He didn’t crave it, not exactly. Just.. Noted the absence.

His feet carried him down another branching hallway. A metal cart full of vials set unattended near a wall, clipboard dangling off one corner with notes scribbled in a hurried hand. He passed a cluster of scientists murmuring quietly as they rounded the opposite corner. Their conversation died the second they spotted him, freezing them in the middle of the hall. “S-Sir.” One of them nodded in acknowledgement, looking at the floor.

Steve pretended not to notice, fingers skimming over a thin strip of exposed piping on the wall. The metal was warm and he wondered if it was from the heating system or from the facility itself, throbbing like a living thing around him. -They’re afraid of me.- He thought simply, satisfaction curling low in his gut. Not a hint of guilt.

A door to his left hissed open somewhere down the hall. A guard stepped out, arms full of medical supplies. The man nearly dropped them when he saw Steve. Instead of speaking, he gave a stiff nod and pressed himself to the wall to let Steve pass, face unusually pale, eyes wide but down cast. He walked by without a word, listening as the man’s heart sped up, breath stuck in his throat.

He remembered his face. Name too- Cooper. He used to spit in his tray after they took his memories, joke about late-night shifts, complain about cafeteria food and how cold it always was by the elevators. Now he stared at the floor like it might swallow him if he blinked.

Further on, Steve passed a frosted door marked Biohazard Testing Chamber 3. There were faint smears of something dark near the bottom edge of the door- dried, oxidized, mostly scrubbed clean but still visible if you knew to look. He stared at it for a long moment before pushing himself on.

There were no alarms. No racing footsteps behind him. Just silence, broken only by the pulsing hum of electricity in the walls and his own soft breathing. He paused at an intersection. To the right was the long pathway toward the elevators that led to the floors above, flanked by two reinforced blast doors. He didn’t turn that way, not sure if he was allowed above ground yet, and, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to go. Not yet. The world up there felt distant, too bright, too loud. Like stepping outside would burn.

So he turned left.

His hands dragged across the wall again, concrete feeling colder here. A quiet exhale escaped him as he walked on, no real destination in mind, just wanting to move. The floors stretched far underground- labs, holding cells, testing rooms, sleeping quarters for shift workers who stayed down here weeks at a time. He knew every hallway. Every exit. Every camera placement.

And he knew they knew that too.

Yet still- no escort. Not even during the so-called ‘monitoring period’.

-Either they trust me again.. Or they think there’s nothing left for me.- Either way, there wasn’t much he could do about it now, so he should stop trying to think about it. So he let the silence swell around him again, heavy yet calm, it no longer felt oppressive. If anything, it felt earned. Deserved.

And every pair of eyes that fled from his felt like payment.

He thought of the way many of them used to sneer when they knew he couldn’t remember them. Used to speak over him, scream at him, push and smack him around like he was one of their experiments rather than a weapon they polished until he gleamed. They thought keeping his memories locked away made him harmless, disposable, a tool.

Now they flinched when he passed. And he couldn’t be bothered to try and feel a sliver of guilt. Instead, he felt.. Satisfied.

Retribution didn’t need to be loud or messy. Sometimes it was the way a scientist's knuckles turned white around a clipboard. Sometimes it was the slight bow of a guard's head to avoid his cold stare. Sometimes it was in the way they all stepped aside, quickly, silently, like prey instinctively giving way to a predator.

-Good,- he thought, not smiling but allowing the warmth of it to settle somewhere deep in his chest. -They should be afraid. They made me feel terrified, helpless.. Now it’s their turn.-

Turning a corner he came to the end of the hall, standing in front of a stairwell door- thick steel with a mounted keypad. The air here was different. Cooler. A faint draft rising from the vent beneath the door, carrying with it the copper-sweet scent beneath everything else- blood, dried and fresh, a far too familiar scent it was… His own.

Steve quickly typed in his personal code, the keypad beeping once, a click sounding as the heavy locks released, granting him access. He immediately shot down the stairs, not running, just hurried. The air grew colder the further down he went, each step echoing beneath his bare feet. The lighting dimmed at each landing, buzzing faintly as if reluctant to keep these levels illuminated. Concrete walls shifted and mixed with metal plating. The scent of blood thickened.

He paused at the very bottom, staring at the final door. It smelt heavier here- dried blood, disinfectant, something feral. And beneath it all, that strange undertone that had become unmistakable to him… The way his blood smelt after encountering one of those.. Things. He pushed through.

The hallway stretched long and dim, thick metal doors lining the left side- each one having a thin metal window near the top. In the distance, he could hear them- soft, wet clicks, like teeth tapping together, and under it.. Faint footsteps of a single patrol, the soft scent of their fear- human fear- hardly noticeable. Occasional guttural huffs combined with movements scraping against concrete. The air was stale, but heavy, like the room itself was holding its breath.

He walked, slowly now.

Most of the lights outside the cells were dimmed to half-power, bathing everything in a muted, almost bluish tone. No guards rushed down the stairs after him, and he noticed that too, not that they would really. Not unless they absolutely had to.

Good.

He stopped at one of the doors, sliding open the small metal cover to peer inside. The light inside the cell flickered faintly over a demogorgon. It lays sprawled in the center of the cell, long limbs limp and relaxed. The floor around it was stained in a dark, rust-red blood- dried, but unmistakable. The creature’s chest rose and fell in slow, almost peaceful breaths, though its mouth- its petals- were half-parted, fluttering faintly.

It shifted suddenly- spasmodic at first, then deliberate. He forced himself to hold still as its clawed hand scraped across the dark dried patch, pressing its shoulder into it, like it was trying to sink into the cold residue. A rattling chirr escaped its throat- almost content.

It writhed.

Rolled slowly, skin pulling across the floor with a slick grit. Its head tilted back, petals shivering faintly as if inhaling what little scent remained of the blood. His blood. Even dried it still reeked, to him at least. -Do they smell as good as I do? Or.. Do they taste the air?- He hummed to himself with the question, watching as the creature was intoxicated but it- rubbing its ‘face’ against the patch like it was soothing itself.

He watched, quiet, thinking.

The faint clicks and wet vocalizations from nearby cells created a dissonant lullaby in the hallway- creatures shifting, rustling, snorting. But none of it felt threatening. He wondered if they could smell him right now, through the metal. If they knew the source was near. He held his breath as the demogorgon’s head jerked slightly, petals twitching in his direction as if sensing the question. But still.. Not aggressive. More like a dog catching a familiar scent from far away.

Steve didn’t look away, heart thudding faster as he stood unblinking. -So… This is what I am to them. Not prey. Not an enemy. But something else entirely.- Something they craved, something they’d obey. But he refused those thoughts, didn’t want to think of what they meant.

Footsteps echoed distantly, louder now- two guards on patrol rounding the far end of the corridor, rifled clutched to their chests. -As if that’ll save them.- Their shadows stretched long under the flickering lights. When they saw him standing in front of the cell, they hesitated.

One opened his mouth as if to speak, thought better of it, and simply nodded- sharp, respectful, afraid.

He didn’t return the gesture, didn’t need to, he was better than them. Sliding the metal back over the window with a soft click, shutting the creature back into its dim enclosure, sealing its world away from his. He turned from the cell and continued on down the hall, ignoring the men. The deeper he walked, the colder the air became- not physically, though the lower levels always held an unnatural chill- but sterile. Untouched by sunlight, wind, life. Only metal, blood, screams, and breathing things that should not exist.

His fingers brushed against the wall absently, trailing along the cool metal panels, mind wandering, unhurried and unbothered by the quiet down here. If anything, it felt.. Familiar. This was what the lab left like when he first woke here after they took his memories- empty halls, clipped orders, pain and cold. Except now, the silence bent around him, rather than pressed down onto him.

-What will they use them for?- He wondered, eyes flicking across the numbered doors. The demogorgons, the demodogs- creatures built for killing, born from rot and a dark dimension. Yet now, Brenner was watching them roll in his blood like drunken animals, docile and pliant. -Weapons- he concluded. -That’s what he wants. Tame enough to direct, but savage enough to obey.-

He thought of sneaking through the woods with those monsters- not hunting on instinct, but waiting for his scent. Waiting for his permission. The idea should have horrified him but instead, a curious heat stirred inside him- interest, cold and sharp. But fear he tried not to think about lingered below it, fear of what they’d done to him before. Fear of facing it down with just a wooden bat full of rusted nails.

His steps slowed.

Ahead, a cell sat apart from the others- smaller. Inside he could hear just a single occupant, a demodog by the sound of it. He slid open the viewing panel with a metallic scrape, its head snapped up immediately before thunking down, uninterested. Just a single demodog, curled into the corner, its sides rising and falling in a slow, restless rhythm. Its skin was a mottled grey-green. Behind it shackles hung unused on the walls; they didn’t even attempt to chain it, they must have learned those didn’t matter with these things.

His pulse picked up again, just slightly, as it slowly rose onto all fours, head tilting, almost scenting the air. Thin tendrils extended from between its curled petals, tasting the air. Something reckless bloomed in his chest- the beginnings of a thought he knew was dangerous. -What if…- He could walk away. He should walk away.

He didn’t.

Instead, he lowered his hand from the shutter, and- very slowly- he forced his jaw to relax, the familiar ache traveling up his gums as his fangs extended. The collar gave a warning hiss- a short electric buzz- but didn’t activate further. He wasn’t attacking, wasn’t breaking any rules.

Not yet.

Steve raised his hand to his mouth, exhaling shakily. This was stupid. Reckless even.

He bit down into the pad of his thumb.

Skin split easily under the fang, hot copper welling into his mouth before he pulled back. He focused- the way he’d taught himself to suppress a broken bone from healing too fast. He refused the instinct to seal the wound.

Blood welled.

The demodog went still. Its entire body seeming to tense, every muscle coiled, petaled face trembling open, sensing, searching.

He didn’t breathe, hand shaking- and he hated that it did- he extended it through the narrow metal slot. The air inside the cell was cold, damp, smelling faintly of old water and formaldehyde.

He turned his bleeding thumb downward.

A single drop fell.

He watched as it hit the concrete.

Then the demodog lunged- not at him, but to the floor. It collapsed over the small stain, limps spread out, like it was starved for it, petals flattening and then wiggling like leaves in a storm. A rattling hum vibrating in its throat as it sniffed, snorted- almost licked the concrete, desperate to absorb every trace.

His hand kept shaking as he allowed another drop to fall.

And another.

The creature's shoulders sagged, its body stretching across the floor, rolling its petals against the blood almost livingly. Its claws scraped faintly as it adjusted, as if trying to cover as much of its body in the drops as possible. Steve clenched his jaw, refusing to let the wound close for a moment longer.

Three more drops.

Arm shaking now, though he tried to stop it, his throat felt tight, chest squeezing with adrenaline or anxiety, he couldn’t tell, and he refused to think about it. Finally, with a silent exhale, he let the natural pull of his healing take over. The skin sealing over the small wound with a faint pulse of heat.

He pulled his hand back quickly from the slot, not wanting to chance it. Blood smeared across his thumb, over the heel of his palm. Without thinking, he wiped it on his sweatpants- dark red streaks blending into worn cotton.

His eyes never left the demodog. It had slowed now, no longer frantic, but.. Content. Its throat made a low, vibrating sound, almost a purr. If such a monster could purr. Its petals folded slightly inward, no longer wide and sharp, but relaxed. Soft clicks echoed from its chest as it panted lightly, or at least he thought it did. But still… He couldn’t, wouldn’t take his eyes off it.

-Sit.- He thought absently, only half-formed. A test. A curiosity, something he didn’t expect to work.

The demodog’s head rose.

Then, slowly, it pushed itself up, hind legs folding neatly beneath it.

It sat.

His spine went rigid, but his face remained unchanged- carefully neutral, bored even- but his mind jolted like ice water was dumped down his back, pulse racing now. The creature stared back at him through the viewing slit, petals slightly parted, as if waiting for him.

Expectant.

Steve slid the viewing panel shut with a quiet snap. He stood still for a long second, breath calm only because he forced it to be. Then he turned on his heel and kept walking- slowly, deliberately- deeper into the dim hallway lined with cages and cameras. He pointedly ignored how silent the rest of the cages had fallen.

The faint residue of adrenaline clung to his bones, too sharp, too bright. He brought his thumb up, absently rubbing the healed skin over his lips. -Too much.- Not fear just.. Too many implications at once. He stopped at the next intersection, letting his gaze skim across the flickering lights and the endless row of reinforced doors. It was enough.

He found the next stairwell going up and quickly typed in his code, slipping inside before it could fully open, putting it shut just as fast with a soft hydraulic hiss. The air was warmer here- less damp, less full of static tension. He climbed. Step after step, his footsteps steady and unhurried. He let the scent of those monsters and his blood slowly fade into the background, letting it be replaced by sterilized concrete and recycled air.

When he reached the upper level, he paused only briefly before pushing through the door. The world above was barely brighter- still fluorescent, still grey and metal- but quieter. More human. He walked on not really picking a destination, just letting his feet carry him across the smooth floor, fingers loosely trailing along the cold wall as he turned corners, passed observation rooms, silent labs, locker rooms. People passed him- guards, lab techs, scientists- and every one of them went stiff the second they’d noticed him. Eyes dropped to the floor, conversations died mid-sentence, not a single one of them met his gaze.

He drank it all in silently. A small, satisfied hum curling in his chest. Good, they remembered how they treated him when they thought he’d never remember. The mocking, the pain, the way they spoke in front of him like he was furniture. Now? They weren’t so confident. Their shoulders curved in, their breaths held, they made themselves small. Just like he had.

But eventually, the warm scent of cooked meat and onions drifted under his nose- warm, greasy, distinctly human.

The kitchen doors swung open with a soft push. The room immediately stilled.

Several staff members were plating up trays, others dishing out plates to go to the upper floors, some scrubbing pans, or chopping vegetables. The instant he stepped across the threshold with that blank, cold expression plastered on his face, silence rippled out. Conversations stopped. One clatter of a dropped spoon echoed too loud, but no one moved to retrieve it.

Steve ignored them.

He walked over to the steel serving counter, planting himself directly across from the head chef- a greying man with heavy hands and a sweat-stained collar. The chef stood frozen, pan in hand, eyes slowly lifting. But as soon as Steve stared back, unblinking, the man’s head lowered like a reflex. Submissive. Fearful. He folded his arms across his chest in satisfaction, but his face stayed that expressionless mask, voice coming low and smooth.

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, everything on it, on the rare side but still cooked.” He looked around slowly, at the other pots and pans behind the man. “And whatever else you’ve got to eat.” He gave a nonchalant tilt of his shoulder, a barely-there shrug. “And a hot cup of blood. Human preferably. Though cow works if you’re out.”

The kitchen didn’t move. Not until the chew audibly swallowed, slowly nodding. “Y.. Yes sir.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he turned, barking soft orders that never rose above the terrified urgency. The room snapped into motion like a machine that had been waiting for permission to breathe. Patties hit the grill with a loud sizzle. Bread was sliced. Someone pulled a tray of fries from an oven. Another retrieved a pitcher of blood from a refrigerated cabinet, hands trembling.

Steve leaned back against a counter, arms still crossed, one ankle loosely resting over the other, he had blood in his room, but it was much more fun to watch them scramble around, watch them drop everything to serve him. He watched as each worker deliberately avoided looking at him, their hands moving faster than necessary, rushing, but careful not to make any more noise than they had to. He really was willing to wait, not that they needed to know that.

Someone walked past with a tray of raw red onions, they skirted so wide around him it was almost laughable. It had his lips twitching, not quite smiling. Though he wanted to, when he leaned forward, plucking a single onion from the tray, the man flinching back, almost dropping it, as if he expected him to snap his neck. He ate the onion, pleased.

The chef quickly finished assembling the burger- thick patty, melted cheese, lettuce, onion, tomato, pickles, sauces all nearly stacked together. He set it on a tray with a pile of fries, a bowl of pasta someone must have had ready for staff meals, a side of soup, and the requested cup of blood- dark and steaming.

Only then he did he look up, and only for a second. “It’s done, sir.”

He pushed off the counter, expression cool, unreadable as he looked it over. He took the tray without a word, the chef stepping back quickly, as if afraid of even brushing him by accident. He didn’t thank them, just turned and walked out, the kitchen parting around him like water- silent and trembling. And as the door swung shut behind him, he felt it again- the weight of their fear. It settled around his shoulder like a comforting cloak.

Balancing the tray in one hand he walked down a familiar path. The hall was quieter now- most of the personnel were in their assigned secrets after the shift change. His room was only a few halls away. As he rounded the next corner, he nearly walked into someone.

He barely held back a groan as Dr. Brenner stopped just short of colliding, brows lifting faintly in surprise before his face curled into the familiar smile- thin and practiced. “Steven,” he said softly, gaze sweeping over him- bare feet, tray of food, faint shadows beneath his eyes. “I was just about to come find you.”

Steve didn’t offer any kind of expression, just adjusted his grip on the tray. “Doctor.”

Brenner’s head tilted, subtly, eyes linger on Steve’s collar, his face, the way he held his shoulders. “I wanted to check in. You disappeared rather abruptly this morning, I was concerned the reintegration may be taking more out of you than you’re admitting.”

He kept his voice flat. “I’m fine.. Really.”

Brenner stepped closer, reaching out with the casual entertainment of someone who didn’t expect to be denied. His hand settled lightly on Steve’s forearm, thumb brushing once as if to reassure, who he wasn’t sure. “You don’t look fine. You should be resting, not wandering around.”

“I’m headed back to my room now.” He replied, tone making it sound like a simple fact, neither defensive nor apologetic.

The hand lingered a second longer before dropping away. “Good. Don’t strain yourself. There’s no urgency for you to resume your duties just yet.” He gestured down the hall and Steve took the lead without a word, moving in the direction of his quarters. Brenner walked beside him, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

“If you’re up for it this evening,” the man continued, voice genial, conversational, “join me for dinner in our dining room. But if you’re not feeling well enough, don’t worry. I’d rather you rest than push yourself unnecessarily.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. “I’ll see how I feel after I eat. I’m planning to try and take a nap.”

“Good, very good.” Brenner nodded to himself with a smile. “Try to relax, Steven.”

They stopped outside his door, when Brenner made no move to leave he reached into his pocket and took out the key, the lock clicked quietly.

Brenner stepped back then. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He nodded once. Then the man's hand rose again, briefly hovering over his shoulder, then rested there lightly. Not restraining, just there. “Rest,” he said, almost softly. Then he turned and walked away, footsteps echoing down the hall.

Steve watched him go until he turned a corner. Only then did he push open the door. He slipped inside, shutting it firmly, locking it with a soft click. The automatic lights stayed low until he flicked the switch by the door, letting warm white light spill across the room. He set the tray onto his desk and dropped silently into the chair.

The first thing he reached for was the cup of blood. Warm, metallic. He drank it in slow, long pulls, throat working quickly. It eased something sharp inside his chest. Next came the burger, he ate slower now, juices dripping onto the tray beneath. The fries were crispy, salted. The pasta was lukewarm but rich with cream and pepper. The soup was forgettable, but he finished it anyway.

By the time the tray was empty, some of the tension had faded from his shoulders.

He stood quietly, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. The room was still, faintly scented with soap stale books, and the ever present lingering scent of lavender. Walking to the wardrobe, he sifted through a stack of folded sweaters picking a heavy dark blue- nearly black sweatshirt, soft, worn, and lined with fleece. Yanking the sweater off he folded it absently, putting it back on the chair. The air only increased the chill so he quickly pulled on the sweatshirt, suppressing a shiver but it wasn’t a physical cold, it was that feeling deep inside him still, only intensified now. Like it was getting worse over time. Or maybe he was just going insane.

Moving slower now, Steve crossed back over and dimmed the lights, the room falling back into a gentler glow- soft amber shadows, the edges blurring. Instead he allowed his eyes to adjust, preferring it to the buzzing above. He wandered over to the bookshelf, fingers trailing over worn spines before gently plucking out a thick sketchbook. He picked up a pencil from the nightstand before crawling into bed, mattress dipping beneath his weight. He pulled the heavy blanket up over his lap, tucking it around his legs. The fabric was pleasantly weighty, like being held down by something familiar.

The sketchbook settled on his thighs as he opened it to a free page. He hovered the pencil over it for a second, just staring at the blank paper. The quiet felt heavy now, his breathing slow, and he just.. Stared.

Then- he let the pencil fall. It wasn’t anything definitive- just faint, wandering lines. Soft, aimless movements across the page. No plan, no shape, just his hand moving slowly across it before if it didn’t, it would start to tremble… Or curl into a fist. He didn’t think about what he was drawing, just let his mind fall blank, let the pencil move on its own. Lines began to cross, almost forming.. Something.. Almost.

The pencil drags in soft, uncertain strokes across the page. He’d just barely applying pressure, just enough for the lead to whisper an idea onto the paper rather than define it. It could have been a few hours, a few minutes, or merely seconds by the time he refocuses and pulls his hand back. He can just make out what no one else would notice, the faint slope of a jaw, the indistinct curve of hair that only suggests curls. It’s nothing concrete, barely a sketch at all- so faint it could be brushed away with a careless hand. But to Steve… It’s unmistakably Eddie.

His throat tightens.

The ache is sudden and deep, settling behind his ribs like something trying to crawl up and out. He stares down at the barely-there sketch- so fragile it almost doesn’t exist- and feels something inside him loosen in a way that’s terrifying. It’s not the best he’s ever drawn; the proportions are off, the lines uncertain. But it’s him. It’s his Eddie. Even reduced to ghosts of pencil strokes and memory, Steve can see him.

He breathes in, slow and sky, and lowers the pencil again.

This time, he draws with intention. Something he taught himself first in the Hawkin’s lab to chase the boredom away all those years ago, then refined down here in the lab, to keep his mind awake, to remember things he never wanted to forget.

He starts with the shape of Eddie’s hand first- the one resting loosely over what he makes out to be the body of a guitar. The fingers are long, familiar in the way they curl around the neck even in memory. The rings come next. They’re easier than the rest- just sharp edges and circles. Muscle memory guides him after tracing them over and over with his own fingers in the bunker. He sketches the wide band on Eddie’s thumb, the skull ring on his middle finger, the thin silver one on his pinky. He shades lightly around them to make the metal gleam, pencil strokes delicate but precise.

The rest takes longer.

He works his way up, sketching the suggestion of a guitar long lost over Eddie’s lap, then the slouch of his posture- the way Eddie always sinks into couches like they’re trying to swallow him. Steve draws the couch too, the cushions sagging under their weight, a blanket tossed lazily over the back. He remembers this moment- not exactly, but something like it. Eddie, on the couch in the bunker. Or maybe it was Wayne’s house. Or maybe.. Just somewhere he’d made up in his head, where the lighting was warm and safe and nothing hurt. He pauses, hand hovering.

Then comes the hair.

He starts slowly, sketching the shape of each curl- light, looping arcs around Eddie’s shoulders. But it’s wrong, too stiff, too clear. Steve presses his lips together, erases them, and tries again. This time, his pencil moves in messier circles, overlapping strands, letting them fall out of place in a more natural, wild way. Still, he stops, erases again. And again, and again. Third attempt, fourth. He’s muttering under his breath now, barely audible. “Come on. Come on.” His hand trembles, but he doesn’t stop.

Finally, maybe the tenth, maybe the thirtieth try, the curls start to look like his. Soft in some places, unruly in others. The pencil lines are darker there, layered and deliberate. He shades the shadows around Eddie’s ear, under the jaw line, down his neck where loose strands fall. It’s not perfect, but it doesn’t matter. It feels right.

His chest feels too small for his heart and he hesitates before drawing the face, pencil pressed still against the page. He doesn’t fill it in, can’t. Can’t give Eddie a face full of emotions he doesn’t want to feel. Instead, he only outlines the profile- the curve of his cheekbones, the soft slope of his nose, eyelashes like shadows. Eddie’s head is tilted down, eyes lowered to the guitar, like he’s tuning a string or lost in thought.

Steve realizes his pulse is hammering.

He leans back against the headboard, blanket heavy across his lap, sweatshirt warm against his skin despite the persistent cold deep inside. The collar still hums faintly at his throat, an ever-present reminder of where he is now, but he ignores it, just staring at the sketch. It’s not a masterpiece. The lines are uneven, the composition is simple, the shadows are rushed in some places and painfully thick in others. But it’s real. It’s him. Every stroke is soaked in longing, in memory, in something he’s not sure he’s allowed to feel anymore.

Someone- Brenner- could walk in here, could open this and see it- see him. Steve could care less. He’s already shown his hand. Already laid the cards out on the table when he didn’t fight to hide how much Eddie mattered.

So he keeps going.

He darkens the rings, smudges the shadows around the guitar to make the strings more noticeable. Softens the lines of Eddie’s shoulders, his fraying sweatshirt, the way his knee rests against the guitar. He breathes through the hurt, pencil gliding, pausing, erasing, redrawing. Time stops meaning anything.

By the time he sets the pencil down, his fingers are cramping, eyes burning with exhaustion. The sketch is still unfinished- but it’s enough. It’s Eddie, as clear to him as if he were sitting at the foot of the bed. Steve presses his hand flat against the page for a moment, hand trembling. Then he quickly closes the sketchbook, tucks it under his pillow, and shuts his eyes.

The collar hums against his pulse, the room almost completely silent. And for the first time since returning, he lets himself breathe like he’s still human. Deep lungfuls that feel like he’s dragging in ice. The blankets cocoon around him as he slides deeper beneath them, pulling the heavy fabric up over his shoulders like a child hiding from a storm. Warmth presses against chilled skin, muted and dull, but comforting in its weight. But still, he draws it closer, tucking his chin down, body curling on instinct around the lingering ache in his chest.

Sleep doesn’t come gently.

It drags him under in jagged, fragmented pulls- warm scenes that dissolve into cold concrete, voices muffled behind static, Eddie’s laughter blurring into the echo of lab alarms. His fingers twitch there they’re buried into the sheets, a soft whisper slipping past his lips, but it dies quietly in the empty room. No one hears it. No one wakes him.

---

At some point, the throbbing hum of the lab’s ventilation system replaces his dreams. Though he can’t recall any of them.

The dimmed lights remain unchanged, locked in artificial twilight. For a moment, disorientation clings to him like a second skin. Then agitation floods in, his eyes snap open. His muscles are tense, stiff from how tightly he’d curled up in sleep.

Annoyance flares.

A rough exhale forces past his lips as he rolls onto his back, movements abrupt, almost petulant. Both arms stretch wide over the large bed, fingers splayed out over the cold sheets. He glares up at the ceiling, hair messy, chest rising and falling too quickly, laying motionless except for the occasional twitch of his jaw.

The ceiling tiles stare back in silence- pale, speckled with faint water stains only his eyes could make out, little grooves and imperfections forming meaningless maps above. He focuses on the crooked line running across the corner, traces the way it sharpens then gently curves from side to side.

A glance at the clock above the door makes his lips curl. Almost dinner. Nearly the end of the day gone to nothing but sleep and discomfort. A wasted afternoon. Except.. He shakes his head, trying not to think of the cells below.

For several long minutes, he simply lies there- breathing, stewing, letting the frustration simmer under his skin. The collar hums faintly with each heartbeat, a reminder he isn’t yet free.

Finally, the tension snaps.

Steve sits up too quickly. The blanket falls from his shoulders in a heavy slump, feet smack against the cold floor when he throws them over, pushing himself off the mattress. His movements are sharp with irritation instead of exhaustion, each step is forceful, like he’s punishing the ground for his annoyance.

The bathroom light flickers on with a faint buzz.

Cold water splashes over his face as he leans over the sink, palms pressed onto the porcelain edges. Droplets race down his cheeks, cling to his lashes, drip from his chin. He sucks in a breath, holds it, slowly lets it out through his nose. Once. Twice. Again and again.

Fingers rake through dampened hair, pushing it back from his eyes, he refuses to let anyone near him with scissors these days. Not after they’d… Buzzed off his hair. He bit back a growl as he smoothes his hair into some semblance of order, though the strands persistently curl in defiance near his temples. The mirror stares him down- harsh lights illuminating the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the faint raw skin around the collar, reflecting just how tired he really feels.

It doesn’t look like the person he remembers being.

Brown eyes, once warm and loud with unspoken jokes, now look flat. Controlled. The faint rise and fall of his chest is just about the only sign he isn’t made of stone. Water continues to drip from him back into the sink, rippling the shallow pool gathered near the drain. He studies his own face with clinical distance. The collar’s metal catches the light, a faint red indent circles around it like permanent fingerprints. He tilts his head slightly, testing how far he can move before the mechanism pulses quietly in warning.

Static hums in his ears.

Eventually, his hands leave the sink, they drag down his face in a slow tired motion. Another breath, another quick splash of water to his face before he dried himself and his hair. There’s still dinner to deal with. Brenner’s invitation lingering like a weight in the back of his mind.

A loud huff tore itself free- party annoyance, part impatience- and Steve shoved himself from the sink, stalking back into his room. At the desk he fished out a plastic keycard- he wasn’t in the mood to take the stairs up- from the drawer that also held his room key, thumbing them both into the pocket of his sweatshirt. He marched to the door, still no shoes, and hesitated. He allowed himself a few more slow, controlled breaths, trying to push down his rising anger, letting his normal cold mask slip into place.

He opened the door just enough to slip out of before pulling it shut behind him, the lock clicking loudly. There was no one waiting for him now either. The idea- no escort- sat small and electric in his chest, the tiniest thing that tasted like freedom.

The hallway felt different now; shift change meant more bodies, more chatter, more people crowding around doorways and workstations. Staff and guards alike moved past with clanking keys and clipped orders, but the space rearranged itself the moment he moved through it. Heads tilted away, conversations thinned and stalled, palms found radios as if nervous hands could scrub his presence from the air. Small, practical gestures piled up into one large heavy thing- deliberate avoidance.

Steve noticed each movement like a small, satisfying tally. -They all remember now.- The thought was a soft, private laugh in the back of his mind. -They remember what happens when I stop playing the good boy.- Satisfaction was a warm balm on his tongue. Passing a cluster of technicians, he watched them press themselves against the wall, an older woman’s fingers whitening around a clipboard. When a guard, stepping from a room, noticed him they immediately pulled back their knee, the brief flare of pleasure under his ribs grew brighter- not gentleness, not triumph, but long-overdue balance. After the wipe they’d treated him like gum on the bottom of one's shoe; now each sideways glance and stepped-around path was its own small repayment.

The elevator came into view and he thumbed his keycard into the slot almost wanting to hum with amusement. The exterior doors opened and he harshly pressed the call button. He waited, foot tapping impatiently for the doors to slide open and when they did, they revealed two groups. Four guards in tactical vests, two on each side, and five scientists cluttered near the back in their white coats, one had glasses fogging at the bottom. The moment the doors revealed him, the air thickened, conversations froze into paper-thin silence. One of the guards- a man larger than he- knuckles whitened on the rail; one of the scientist’s hands trembled across the case they were carrying.

He moved into the center of the cab with a deliberate, slow grace that made every centimeter of the small space count, the enclosed space amplifying every shaking inhale. As the doors closed his hand dipped into the sweatshirt, found his card again, and with purposeful, almost theatrical calm of a man making a point he leaned over the nearest guard and slid the card into the call panel. A triangle lit under his thumb instead of numbers. The guard’s eyes widened- the motion almost involuntary- then flattened under fear as he realized what Steve could do with the same hand that casually handled an executives pass. A soundless intake behind him, a wet panic that could’ve been a gasp, came from one of the scientists. He took the card back and slowly straightened back up.

The ride up stretched taut, he could taste their fear- acidic and almost warm in the back of his throat- and he let himself enjoy it, revel in it, let himself take a deep quiet breath in, smelling their nerves, their anxiety. He could hear one of the scientists behind him take in a hesitant shaky breath, like he was scared to breathe. A soft clear of his throat cut the silence; they all flinched, it had a smile, thin and private, pulling at the corner of his lips. -Lab rats behave better.- He let the thought sit, amused by how small he could make these people feel with nothing more than a sneeze if he wanted to.

When the doors opened to his floor, he strutted out like he owned the building, shoulders loose, hands in his pockets. Their shaking exhales followed him like a breeze as the doors slid shut without him inside. He wanted to laugh in their faces. Or maybe thank them? Their fear eased the building anger inside him.

Walking slowly now, he took the long way. Not because he needed time but because he liked the way the place rearranged itself around him, he passed more technicians and guards who stepped aside without looking at his face. Some clutched their weapons tighter, others managed wide detours that fancied themselves invisible. The whole building seemed to whisper: don’t cross him.

But eventually a pair of heavy double doors announced the dining suite. As much as he could with the collar still on- cracked his neck side to side before pushing through them; as soon as they opened, they clicked closed softly behind him. Warm light softened the room into something meant to feel comforting; a large oak table, a built-in television recessed in one wall, placements laid like promises. Brenner occupied the head of the table- composed, polished- and a single place had been set beside him.

Crossing the room, he sat down without a word. Immediately servers slid out from a side door in a practiced choreography, placing salads, fresh bread, and their waters with competent hands, not daring to even glance up toward them, toward him. Just as they appeared, they were gone. The sound of silverware became a soft percussion under the older man’s voice when he finally spoke.

“Steven, excellent timing. How are you feeling?” Brenner’s tone was smooth, almost genuine concern as he took a slow bite of his salad, watching Steve with a raised brow.

“Fine.” The answer was short, neutral, a mask settling into place. He took the fork and carried the motion of eating mechanical like- a chore to be done, paced, controlled.

“You do look much improved.” Brenner said, nodding as if approving a report. “Took that nap I presume?”

“I did.” Small bites, methodical; the salad’s crunch a steady beat he could follow, knowing they wouldn’t bring out the food until they were both finished.

“Good.. Good. Something very interesting happened earlier, a guard came rushing up to inform me you’d been spotted down by the monster cages.” Brenner offered, amused and curious. “I gather you were inspecting our subjects?”

He chewed and swallowed calmly, feeling the bread and lettuce slide down like a small, necessary ritual. “Yes.. That was before you caught me with lunch.” He raised a brow. “I thought you’d said all was back to normal? Or am I being restricted further?”

“No no, nothing like that. I was merely curious is all.” Brenner waved his hand dismissively. “You’re allowed to go around as you used to, I just assumed you’d want to rest longer. But, it is only natural you’d want to see them controlled after all you’d gone through. So.. What did you think?”

He considers lying, considers outright rejecting the idea from this morning. But in the end, he takes another bite of his salad, keeping his face almost expressionless while he thought over his morning. “They were.. Interesting, to say the least. They hardly reacted to me at all.. Though, one of the so-called demo-dogs reacted differently. So.. I wanted to see what would happen if I gave it fresh blood.” The words were casual; the idea behind them was not. He watched for any flicker of surprise but there was none, only interest.

“And?” Brenner pressed, leaning in, curiosity sharpening the bend of his voice. -As if you don’t already know.-

“It… Sat.” Steve said simply. “Like it was drugged. Lonely, waiting. It didn’t attack. Just… Sat there waiting for more until I closed the wound.” Not a lie, but not the truth either.

Brenner chewed a bit of salad, then set his fork down. “Fascinating.” He considered that, brows lifting. “Your blood has such a unique effect. Calming, pacifying, a biological novelty we’ve yet to find anything else to compare to.” He sounded far too pleased.

Servers moved like ghosts at the edges of the table; coming over to refill their waters, sliding him another plate of salad when he motioned one of his fingers; one young man with a tray kept his eyes focused on the floor, the way people tend to do when they don’t want to be noticed by predators. But Steve noticed everything. Little details fed him: the way a hand twitched on a tong, the way their hands flinched back when he moved for his glass or the nervous trip in their steps when he shifted in the chair. They all gave him a small power: to be watched or ignored on a whim.

“Tell me,” Brenner said after a beat of silence, “how do you find the staff? Are they cooperative?”

He let a smirk curl his lips this time, the first honest motion on a face that had been otherwise carefully blank. “They fear me, the old staff more than the new. Most of them are scared to even stand next to me. I remember how they treated me when I was… Less than myself. I remember the pain, what they fed me before you stepped back in, how they treated me, they know I remember, and they’re scared of what I’ll do to them for it.” The admission tasted of something dark and satisfying. “I’ll admit.. It pleases me.”

“And?” Brenner pressed, leaning back in his chair, face not blank but holding little emotion all of a sudden.

“And?” He echoed, confused.

The older man didn’t roll his eyes but he sounded like he wanted to. “And what do you plan on doing?”

“Oh.. Honestly? At the moment I enjoy the smell of their fear, the way they flinch back when I get too close. I want them to think, to anticipate, to be scared, that I’m going to retaliate in some way. But I won’t…” He took a slow sip of his water, smiling behind it. “Not yet at least. I’ll let them relax, play along until they think I forgive them, because it was just their job.” He rolls his eyes. “And then, then I’ll get my revenge. Assuming they’re not needed anymore, that is.”

Brenner’s eyes lit in a way he’d learned to read as approval. “Exellent. Fear is efficient, it keeps them in their places.” He leaned forward again, chin resting on his palm, as if sharing a secret. “I only put a handful of people down there that were higher up, that were needed, but most are easily replaceable.” -Was Doc needed?- “Of course they’re all disposable. While I’ll miss their minds, whatever it is they’re working on I can easily find a replacement for. Just let me know when the body disposal team is needed.”

“Mm.” He hums quietly. “I’ll let you know.”

The conversation tapered off and they finished their salads in a calm silence. A woman cleared their finished plates with slender fingers and sideways glances like she was counting shadows. He didn’t bother to thank anyone, wouldn’t even if he wanted to.

After a pause that tasted like patience, Steve cut across the silence. “Those scientists who worked on me during reintegration- still around?”

Brenner tilted his head, curiosity shadowing his features. “Yes?.. Why?”

“One of them kept touching me while I was.. Strapped down.” The words were delivered with such calm they felt.. Worse. Not pleading. Not angry. But wanting. A claim wrapped in ice.

The older man’s lips twitched into something like a smile- smelling pleased, oddly approving, as if he knew where this was headed. “Oh? That was.. Unfortunate for them. I will say they do bring such an annoyance sometimes. If you wish for a punishment…” He let the sentence hang there, like an invitation. The corners of his mouth lifted, almost sounding delighted at the possibility.

The cold inside him intensified, reached his fingers, almost warmed his chest now. “I want them dead.” Voice level, precise. No dramatic flourish- just a statement with the weight of inevitable consequence.

A small clink of porcelain paused mid-air. The room stilled in the way a held breath does. Then Brenner laughed, low and thoroughly satisfied. “Perfect. I was thinking the same. That particular team has been.. Disappointing. Consider them at your disposal, Steven, your test subjects for your revenge if you’d like. Take your time, as I said before.. Just let me know where to send body disposal. Once that collar is off, once the monitoring period is over, no staff nor any guard will raise a weapon against you again, you could do it in the middle of a hallway if you’d like.”

Satisfaction unfurled like a slow exhale. Not pride, not triumph in the warm, honest sense he’d once felt. Something sterner: retribution, a balance set back to right. -They took things from me. I’ll return the favor.. Soon enough.- A private vow thrummed through him.

Soup arrived then, like the staff had forgotten to breathe at his request, bowls set before them quickly. He watched steam curl up from the surface, swallowing the scent of broth and herbs and the faint metallic trace of the glass of blood placed down beside him, in a wine glass to match the sweet sickly scent of Brenner's wine. He picked up the spoon and took a silent, measured sip. The flavors were actually quite nice, though he’d never complement these people.

At some point- when he was just listening to Brenner ramble on- the soup became steaks, baked potatoes, and plates of vegetables. He listened to the older man talk about staffing shifts, how it was both better with a larger team, but so very annoying to keep them all in line without Steve. He listened to the man prattle on about an upcoming protocol update, training regimens, how he was ‘ever so glad’ to have Steve back home.

Eventually he leaned forward again, curiosity splitting into something sharper. “What about the team from down below?” He asked quietly. “The guards who’d drag me by my arms, the scientists who ripped me open again and again. Are they still here?”

Brenner’s eyes narrowed with interest, brow rising. “Yes, most of them are still below. Some moved onto upper level projects, but the core group remains. More revenge?”

“I want them all.” The words were calm, cool as the metal of his collar. “Every last one… You said when I started down here you’d give me anything, that I could do anything, request anything I’d like.” He stared the man down as he spoke, glass of blood resting calmly between his fingers. “Since I have to wait for my reward to be done.. I want them. Their lives. To do with as I please. You want me happy? I want them dead.”

The look Brenner gave him could only be described as immediate approval, a slow dangerous smile spreading. “You’re quite right, I did say you could request anything of me… That’s quite a lot of bodies so suddenly but..” His voice held the faintest edge of amusement as he brought his own wine glass to his lips, taking a slow sip. “I’ve never discouraged your bloodlust before, I shan't do so now, very well.. Give me some time and I’ll arrange it once your monitoring period is over. Consider their lives yours, Steven.”

He gave a single, terse nod. “Good. I look forward to it.” There was no celebration, no fury shown, just a plan settling into motion. It felt like the rest of his pieces were finally sliding back into place, a small victory toward his goals.

Dessert was just as calm, a thick slab of bread pudding with a drizzle of caramel and another warm glass of blood set in front of him, by staff whose hands shook the closer they got toward him. He ate without comment, the flavors filling hollow places that had nothing to do with hunger. Brenner talked of plans- logistics, timelines, a quiet confidence that they could accomplish commanding the monsters, if Steve agreed that is.

When the last fork scraped their plates and the servers began nervously clearing away, Steve allowed a private satisfaction to unfurl. The food had settled him; the room’s nerves had been measured and catalogued; and another check had been made in the ledger of what he had lost and what he could take back. For now, the quiet of the meal would be enough, plans could be small and meticulous, revenge could be surgical, and the fear in the others could be used. When he rose from the table, the room seemed to exhale. The staff moved aside, almost pressing themselves into the walls as he and Brenner left without a word.

They took their time walking down the hall, not in a rush to return to anything. Steve walked at Brenner’s side not out of duty, but because there was nowhere else he had an excuse to rush to- not yet. The halls were quiet, the hum of fluorescents and the distant thrum of machines filling the silence between them. Though he supposed, to the older man it was actual silence. Occasionally, he let his fingertips brush the wall, a habit he didn’t mind anyone seeing him indulge in while his thoughts drifted off.

When they finally headed in the direction of the elevator, the quiet had stretched just long enough for discomfort to creep in. All he could hear was the whisper of the lab- voices murmuring from open doors, the clink of meal trays in a cafeteria two floors above, and the soft static of radios. He inhaled subtly, and before his mind could organize it, his mouth had already begun speaking.

“Would you mind if I asked something?”

Brenner glanced at him, not stopping, but his brows lifted minutely in something like concern. “Of course.. What’s bothering you?”

His teeth clicked together- thinking, restraining. His fingers curled briefly at his sides. “I was wondering about Edward.” He hated how formal that sounded- Edward. But Eddie felt like a bruise on his tongue, like he no longer had permission. “You said he’s on the lower levels.. Is he alright?”

Amusement bled off Brenner before he even opened his mouth. Steve could smell it- the faint curl of smugness, sweet and metallic. “I’m aware that you care for him,” the response was mild compared to the smell. “But surely, there’s something more going on if you keep bringing him up so often.”

Steve wanted to snarl, to bare his teeth at the way the man danced around the question. He wanted to snap, just answer me. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, sharp and annoyed. “According to every piece of research you people have shoved into my face, I’m stuck in my twenties forever.” His voice was flat, dry, but then- he shifted tones deliberately. If Brenner wanted a reaction, he’d give one- just not the one expected.

He stopped walking and turned to face him fully, nostrils flaring, arms crossing over his chest like a petulant teenager, expression bordering on a pout. “I’m horny.”

Brenner actually paused. The hallway momentarily silent except for the far-off tap of patrol boots. Steve watched the practiced composure crack just slightly- a blink too slow, the throat clearing that followed a beat too late.

“I might’ve only been awake a day,” Steve continued, leaning into it now, “but you seem to be forgetting that every part of me is heightened. Senses. Emotions. Instincts. Everything.” His voice softened into something dangerous, something honest. “What I’m saying is- I want to fuck what’s mine.”

Brenner blinked, mouth working for a second before he managed a restrained, “I see…” His voice pitched lower, tighter, they continued walking. They reached the elevator doors at the moment Brenner cleared his throat as though that might realign the conversation. They stood there for a tense minute before he finally continued. “Edward is currently undergoing an experiment with.. Unfavorable results.” The words were chosen carefully. Too carefully. “Due to unforeseen circumstances, I can no longer guarantee he will be available ‘soon’. All I can confirm is that he is alive, and I intend for him to stay that way. But he may be down there longer than any of us anticipated.” Brenner’s voice softened marginally. “I apologize, Steven. I really do.”

Something cold and sharp snapped under his ribs. His jaw locked; nails digging crescents into the fabric of his sweatshirts where they held still, folded over his chest. -Unforeseen circumstances?.. I’ll gut whoever hurt him. I’ll tear them apart and feed them to the fucking demogorgon if I have to!- “If he dies,” he started, dangerously, letting his arms fall to his sides in a slow, controlled motion, “I will slaughter everyone on that floor.” His face had gone blank- empty in a way that he’d force himself to be over and over. He lifted his gaze to meet Brenner’s with icy clarity. “Just letting you know.”

Brenner didn’t flinch, he only gave a slow acknowledging nod. “I understand.” He slid his keycard into the panel, pressing the call button. “And should that happen, I will not stop you.” The doors opened with a soft chime. They stepped into the empty elevator, the doors shutting with a quiet seal, enclosing them in steel and silence. No scientists. No guards. Just humming electricity and thick, unspoken violence hanging in the space between them. Brenner slid his keycard back into the panel and pressed the circle button to take them down below. They rode down without another word.

When they exited, the halls felt colder. Quieter. Brenner walked him back to his room like nothing had happened- as though they hadn’t just discussed murder like it was the weather. A gentle hand landed on Steve’s shoulder before he could slide in his key, the touch was warm, calculated.

“I know the news is disappointing.” Brenner said softly. “And I am sorry. I’ll try to keep you updated on his progress. Try not to let it consume you.” He gave a light pat on his shoulder, like Steve was a child that needed calming, then stepped back.

Steve unlocked his door with too much force, almost breaking the key, and slipped inside. He flicked the lights on low- just enough his eyes wouldn’t have to adjust. -Updated on his progress? You’re sorry?!- His pulse hammered in his throat. -He’s mine! He should be here with me!- He stalked into the bathroom and scrubbed his teeth like it was a punishment, spitting foam into the sink with a snarl. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, stormed back into the room, and grabbed the pencil from his nightstand.

Fine. If he couldn’t have Eddie just yet, he’d draw him. Make sure never to forget a single line.

He sat on the bed, slipping the worn sketchbook out from beneath his pillow. -He should be here with me.- The thought echoed again, softer now, aching rather than angry.

He turned to a blank page.

-My Eddie.-

The pencil traced over the paper. Slowly- carefully- he drew a hand first. Eddie’s hand. Rings gleaming in his memories, the distinct shapes burned into him. Soft lines became darker strokes, merging, twisting around one another. He let himself linger on the details: the way the rings sat against Eddie’s knuckles, the slight bend of a finger, the tiny scar on the back of his thumb.

It wasn’t much. But it was something he could hold. Something he could look at when he felt himself slipping.

And for now- that had to be enough.

Notes:

Oh Steve... What have you done?

Chapter 44: Oh To See You Again

Summary:

What is life without fear? Without longing?
Does distance make the heart grow fonder? Or does it grow colder, more unstable?

Notes:

Warning: Some violence near the end, a bit of this, a bit of that.
Just Steve slowly going insane, the usual.

“Did you miss me?” The voice was warm, teasing, and so achingly familiar that Steve didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. It vibrated low in his chest like a song he hadn’t heard in years, yet still knew by heart.

He hummed, lazy and content, fingers combing through the soft bed of grass around him, idly twisting a blade between his fingers. The air was thick with summer- sun-warmed and sweet, carrying the faint smell of clover and distant rain. “More than you know,” he murmured, lips curling faintly as a breeze blew gently across his face, cool against his heated skin. “Had a weird dream.”

“What about?” The voice had something warming deep inside his chest, something even the sun’s heat couldn’t reach.

“Mm.. The lab. You weren’t there, but you were… Somewhere, there. I was scaring people, and Brenner was friendly.” He let his fingers run through the grass.

“Well.. You are pretty scary. But I think the nightmare part is Brenner, so.” The voice sounded like it was moving.

“Never said it was a nightmare.” He almost whispered.

Footsteps came closer, the steady crunch of grass growing louder until a shadow fell across him. The tips of his fingers brushed against a boot, the leather warm from the sun.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” came the fondly exasperated drawl. “We can’t stay out here all day.”

“Can too.. Will.” Steve muttered without opening his eyes, a lazy smile curling his lips. Then, with a mischievous burst of energy, he reached out, hooked an arm around a leg, and yanked.

“Shit!- Steve!”

A tangle of limbs hit the grass around him with a muffled thump. The air rushed out of both of them, followed by laughter- bright, unguarded, genuine. Eddie’s curls crushed against his cheeks as they wrestled, the scent of him- familiar shampoo, cologne, and something earthy- washed over Steve.

When the laughter faded into quiet chuckles, he cracked an eye open. The sun framed Eddie like a halo, highlighting the soft edges of curls that had escaped his messy bun. A few strands clung to his cheek, and Steve reached up instinctively to brush them back, fingers trailing down to linger at Eddie’s jaw, before trailing to his lips, tracing the faint smudge of a smile.

“Hi there,” he whispered, voice softer than the wind.

“Hi.” Eddie whispered back, grin widening as he shifted his weight, straddling Steve’s hips. “You gonna get up any time soon?”

Steve made a noise that was more hum than word. “Mm. No.” His arms slid around Eddie’s waist, fingers sneaking under the hem of his shirt to find the warm skin beneath. A quiet sigh escaped as the world narrowed down to the sound of Eddie’s quiet breathing, the heat of their bodies pressing together, and the brush of a thumb over his collarbone. Around them, the meadow stretched endless- tall grass waving lazily, wildflowers swaying, cicadas humming somewhere unseen. No fences. No walls. Just air. Just them.

He smiled, eyes slipping closed again. “We could stay here forever,” he murmured, “just you and me. Let time pass us by.”

Eddie huffed softly, the sound brushing over Steve’s chin like a kiss. “We could. I’d pick berries and hand feed ‘em to you, make you a chair outta sticks and fan you with leaves.” He lowered his head until their noses nearly touched. “But think about this- we wouldn’t get to have pizza. Or your fancy hair products.”

He groaned dramatically, thumping his head back against the grass. “You make a good point.”

“That’s what I’m here for, sweetheart. Logic and good looks.” Eddie leaned down, voice dropping low. “So? What’ll it be, Harrington? Stay here forever- or get up and go to the dinner reservation I fought to get us?”

Steve blinked, squinting up at him. “Dinner reservations?”

“Yup.” Eddie’s grin is impossibly wide now. “Got us a fancy place. Real napkins, forks you actually have to know how to use, the whole nine.”

“What’s the occasion? It’s not my birthday… Is it?” His brow furrowed as he tried to remember what day it was, his sense of time already spilling away to the warmth.

“Nope. Not your birthday, not mine either. Not even our anniversary,” Eddie said that last one quickly, poking him in the chest when Steve opened his mouth. “Not that you’d ever forget it. And before you say it- no, I didn’t forget something or accidentally burn something down. Just wanted to take you out is all.”

“Oh..” His voice softened, a smile slowly stretching his lips. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s nose. “You drive a hard bargain, Munson.”

Eddie grinned, all teeth. “So you’ll come?”

“Alright.”

“Good answer.” Eddie suddenly rolled, dragging Steve with him in one smooth motion. They rolled through the grass, laughing breathlessly, sunlight flickering between them. When they finally stopped, Eddie landed sprawled half on top of him again, curls tickling Steve’s neck.

Steve smiled up at him, heart swelling, fingers tracing the shape of Eddie’s jaw as the light caught on a ring on his thumb, one he’d stolen from Eddie. This was nice, the laughter, the way Eddie looked at him like he was something to be held carefully. He wanted to stay here like this forever, wrapped in this impossible calm.

But the edges of the meadow began to blur. The sunlight dimmed, fading to gray, and the sound of Eddie’s laughter echoed thin and distant. Steve blinked, trying to reach for him, but his hands met only air.

The grass dissolved beneath him, leaving him standing in a static grey void of nothing.

A low hum suddenly filled his ears as the warmth bled away too.

---

He opened his eyes to the same plain grey ceiling above, the hum of familiar vents replacing the whisper of wind, and his fingers clenching in the blanket- cold now, body feeling heavy and sore. Steve stared at the ceiling for a long, silent moment before exhaling- a deep, slow sigh that left him feeling hollow.

“Just a dream,” he murmured, the words barely audible, disappearing into the recycled air. For a moment, the dream lingered- the warm air, Eddie’s laugh, the soft pull of grass against his fingers. He could almost taste the heat, hear the faint hum of bees and wind, could practically feel Eddie’s hand on his. He brought the same hand up to scrub his face, catching in his hair before falling limply to the sheets. The ache behind his ribs throbbed like a bruise that wouldn’t fade.

And for a while longer, he just lies there, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for his heartbeat to stop thumping so loudly.

But eventually, the weight of the silence presses in. With a low groan, Steve pushes himself up, leaning back on one hand while the other rakes through his hair. He looked around slowly as if trying to remember where he was, head tilting toward the desk, eyes catching on the leather jacket draped over the back of the chair. Everything else was exactly the same- the sterile grey walls, the ever-present hum of the ventilation system.

Nothing ever changed in here. Not really.

Another sigh slipped out when he noticed the clock- not even three in the morning. Too early for breakfast, too late for anything else really. The thin red hand ticked forward, carving seconds he didn’t want to count. The dream just wouldn’t go away, still lingering in the back of his mind- the echo of warmth, the sound of laughter- until the smell of the jacket brought him back, almost slapping into him with his first real breath. Leather and something earthy. Not Eddie’s soap, not his cologne, but something heavier, solder, something wrong. Brenner’s choice of a gift. The thought made his stomach twist.

He flopped back onto the pillows again, a low muffled groan escaping. The ceiling above was the same sterile grey it had been moments before, and for what felt like the hundredth time that week, he found himself staring at it like it might blink first. A low sigh slipped out again, and he dragged an arm over his face to shut it all out. Nearly an entire week had passed, each day bleeding into the next, and yet he’d done nothing- at least, nothing that anyone else might call productive.

To Steve, it was more like reacquainting himself with life down here. He drifted through the floors like a ghost, unseen until he wanted to be. He had no schedule, no lift, no leash- just movement. Wandering the halls at odd hours just because he could, appearing where no one expected him to be anymore, and vanishing before anyone could do much as blink.

But it was entertainment in its purest, cruelest form too. Watching the staff stumble over themselves whenever he entered a room. The guards whose backs snapped straight almost instantly, their hands twitching toward their belts before they remembered that no weapon would make a difference. The scientists- those nervous, fragile little creatures- who froze mid-sentence, eyes snapping up, their polite words dying in their throats. The scent of their fear quickly became thick in the air, constant and electric. None of them dared to meet his eyes. Not once. It was like he carried a storm with him, and everyone else was trying not to get struck.

Sometimes, he’d stop just to see how long they’d hold their breath. He’d lean against a wall, casual, almost lazy, just to draw out the tension. A smirk curling at the edge of his carefully crafted mask when a handle trembled around a clipboard, or a pen clattered to the floor. He’d offered a quiet “boo” once- only once- and watched a newly hired tech nearly drop his coffee. That one carried his fear around all week, flinching every time Steve passed him in the hall, or leaned in too close to read over his shoulder.

He relearned everything- unnecessarily now that he remembered- and found new things too. The way halls now echoed since they’d been cleaned out or boxes moved around, the subtle differences between floors now that there were more bodies, the shift patterns of patrols, the weak spots no one had fixed since his escape. The building wasn’t a prison anymore. It was a map, and every hallway whispered secrets to him if he listened closely enough.

Often he made the kitchens his playground too. It had started as a passing irritation- lukewarm blood, being served his old flavorless slop once- but quickly became another kind of game. The head cook for dinner was a quiet, sharp-eyed man who trembled just slightly when he smiled too much. It took one visit for him to understand what he liked, two for him to learn his preferences, and by the third, he didn’t even have to ask. A crate of snacks appeared in his room, along with several labeled containers of blood- fresh, human. He’d given the man a pat on the head and told him he was a fast learner. The ‘compliment’ had made him pale.

Afternoons were for wandering, for watching. Evenings were for reading. He’d spent hours in the library, sitting cross-legged in one of the deep leather chairs, surrounded by the smell of dust and chemicals. The old research logs were dense and clinical, the kind of text that stripped the soul from the subject matter, but he read them anyway, needed to remember it all. Sometimes he didn’t even take in the words- just let the repetition of scanning line after line fill the quiet, his mind wandering while his eyes moved.

Then there were the meals, with Brenner- three lunches, three dinners, and, to his annoyance, two uncomfortable breakfasts. Each one was a test in civility, a performance of calm. The food was surprisingly good, better than the sludge they used to feed him what felt like ages ago. They sat across from each other in that oddly comfortable dining room, Brenner would smile with that same glint in his eye- almost like he valued him. Steve matched him with easy charm, feigning interest where he needed to, and kept his patience when he had to.

Their conversations were polite if- and he’d never admit it aloud- they often calmed him. They talked about containment updates, about the new data on the demogorgons, about his blood readings and rates of healing. Brenner’s tone was always light, conversational, almost like he was trying to be fatherly. Steve mostly kept his responses to the same monotone unless he thought a reaction was needed.

And yet, despite all the calm, all the normalcy, the collar still sat locked around his throat. The constant, faint hum of it had become a background annoyance- a reminder that he was still being managed. Still a project. He could feel it thrumming through the broken skin under it, that low vibration that made him grit his teeth even in his sleep.

He’d laugh sometimes, bitter and sharp, when the staff whispered that he’d gone soft- every time he asked about ‘Edward’. But they didn’t see the way his hands clenched behind his back, or how he walked slower through the halls just to make them sweat. They didn’t understand that he was waiting. That all this- the wandering, the testing, the idle cruelty- was just him stretching before the next act. But they’d see- they’d all see once that collar came off.

He groaned again and shifted against the pillows, dragging his hands down his face. A week of this. Of pretending it was nothing, of keeping the storm contained. But every time someone avoided his gaze, every time someone stammered when he walked in, it was a little spark in the dark. A reminder that he hadn’t lost his edge. That no matter how quiet he seemed, or the company he desperately craved, they still knew exactly what he was capable of.

And that fear? That was better than any leash Brenner could ever make.

The memory of Brenner had him grinding the heel of his palm into his eye. He’d been asked to visit the man’s office sometime today. Why, he hadn’t said. That never meant anything good. Steve let out another groan and turned his face into the pillows. -Maybe he has news on Eddie. A week. A week and there hasn’t been a single update.-

Sleep was out of the question. He’s lucky to have gotten any, even before the dream, what with the way his mind wouldn’t turn off.

After a long minute of just having his face smushed into too soft, not him, he sat up again, shoulders slumping. The air felt stale in his lungs, heavy, sharp as knives. The thought of staying still any longer made his skin itch. Fine. If he couldn’t sleep, he could at least move.

With a heavy sigh, Steve dragged himself out of bed and shuffled over to the wardrobe, -never too early for the gym- pulling out a clean pair of sweatpants and a plain white tank top. The fabric was soft, worn thin at the edges- one of the few things in this place that didn’t feel brand new or sterilized. He changed quickly, not bothering to turn on the lights, and ran a hand through his hair to tame it halfheartedly.

Walking to his desk, he slipped the key and his keycard into his pocket, hand hesitating over the jacket. The weight of it was a strange comfort- heavy, grounding. It wasn’t something he’d exactly like to think of as a gift, not from Brenner of all people, but it did what it needed to. It drowned out the human stink of the guards, drowned out the ever present burning of the antiseptic with something more real. Something leather and earthy. Something that reminded him he still had a body that could breathe and move on its own.

He ran his fingers over it before grabbing a pair of sneakers- preferring to walk there barefoot- and a half-empty bottle of water, and left the room.

The hall was still, pale lights flickering in the distance with a faint humming. Far off, the echo of boots marked the patrol’s slow route. It was too early for chatter, too late for a shift change. Everything was quiet, like the air itself was holding its breath. Steve walked quietly, blinking slowly with sleep, until he passed the open door of a breakroom. Inside, a guard was slumped sideways in his chair, mouth open, snoring softly. The sight tugged a faint smirk out of him before he continued on his way with a small yawn.

He headed for the far elevator- the one that could take him to see the sunrise if he wanted- stifling yet another yawn into the crook of his arm. There were two guards posted outside, both straightening instantly when they spotted him, spines snapping to attention like frightened dogs.

“S-Sir.” One of them stammered, nodding at him. -Mm, least one of you lot has balls.-

Steve waved a hand lazily- not sure why he’d even responded, fishing his keycard out of his pocket before sliding it into the panel behind the man, hitting the call button. The other guard stood rigid, eyes darting anywhere but his face.

Another jaw cracking yawn broke free as he lazily looked between the two, blinking slow. When the elevator arrived, he stepped inside without a word. His reflection in the polished metal walls looked washed-out, exhausted. He reached over and pushed his keycard into the panel and fumbled for the correct floor.

“Do relax.” He mumbled, voice rough with sleep and sarcasm. Both guards jolted like he’d fired a gun, their boots clicking together, guns clenched in their hands. Steve let a lazy smirk curl his lips. “Idiots,” he muttered as the doors sealed them out.

The soft rumble of the elevator’s accent was almost hypnotic, and for a moment he let himself drift, eyes half-lidded, swaying with the motion. When it jerked to a stop nine floors up, he startled awake with a muttered curse. Smacking his lips, Steve stepped into the dimly lit hall, the air up here slightly warmer. He moved slowly, passing two different patrols on his way. -Left, left, left, right, left- he hummed to keep himself awake, almost smiling as he did.

But the closer he got to the gym, the more his hope of being alone died. Standing outside, there were three thudding heartbeats inside- human heartbeats. “Noooo,” he whined quietly, dragging the word under his breath. Still, he pulled open the door and slipped inside.

At first, no one noticed him. The rhythmic clank of weights, and the music faintly spilling from a speaker echoing throughout. Steve slipped into the locker room, plopping himself down onto the bench. Sleepily, he tugged on his shoes, tying them tight. He would’ve preferred to stretch in front of the large mirror out there, but wasn’t really in the mood to be stared at. So, he stretched in the silence of the locker room, muscles popping, body feeling heavy as the edges of sleep still clung tight.

When he was a little more awake, Steve stepped out into the gym. The scent of metal, sweat, and disinfectant hung sharp, stinging his nose. He walked forward toward the machines, stretching a little as he went. The three working out hadn’t noticed him yet- two of them talking low over the sound of weights, the other’s shoes scraping against a treadmill. But one of them turned his head.

The second his eyes caught Steve’s reflection in the mirrored wall, his entire body went rigid, stopping mid-sentence. The man’s heartbeat spiked- it brought Steve great amusement as it went sharp, quick, like a scared animal. The others looked over and the reactions were instant: stiff postures, shallow breaths, one of them stumbling back and nearly tripping over his treadmill in his rush to look away as Steve approached.

He didn’t pay attention to them, just smiled faintly to himself and chose the treadmill closest to the wall, leaving two between him and the guard he vaguely recognized. The hum of the belt came alive beneath his feet as he began at an easy walk, warming his muscles, letting the steady motion sync his breathing with the roll of the belt. The motion helped, but he should’ve brought a walkman as the music echoing annoyingly in his ears was something older than even Wayne liked to listen too. Maybe should’ve even brought a sna-...

Steve blinked slowly, body moving on instinct, feet thumping harder. -I didn’t run when they had me locked downstairs because I didn’t want them to know what I could do..- The realization hit mid-stride, drowning out the sounds around him as his heart kicked up. It had him sucking in a quiet breath, eyes narrowing at nothing. Then the thought twisted. -Fucking idiot! They already know what I can do!-

He almost punched through the console when he increased the speed again, frustration burning his throat. A low growl of anger slipped out before he could stop it, realizing how stupid he’d acted- like a lost child without his memories. The guards all heard it, though they pretended not to, but he saw the way tension rippled through their shoulders like a wave. He could feel it too- the air shirting into something uncertain, the electric pulse of fear crackling between them. Like they were waiting for him to snap.

He didn’t. Didn’t even speak. Just pushed the machine harder, letting it take the brunt of his anger. Shoes smacking down in a relentless rhythm, breath coming sharp, controlled, heart drumming fast enough to hurt now. -They knew. They knew and they let me think I was sooo clever. Let me lie to them like.. Like a test. Like they were watching to see if I’d figure it out.- His reflection looked half-wild now- hair mused, sweat starting to bead, eyes gone bright and glassy with a tired fury.

With gritted teeth, he threw himself faster into a run. -I thought I was playing them, that I’d kept so much hidden… Fuck! I’m gonna pay for that, aren’t I?- Punching the speed as fast as it would go, it didn’t help. He cracked open his water, took a sip, then slammed it back into the holder a little too hard. -...No… No. I can fix this, play it off. If Brenner brings it up, I’ll say I was scared. Worried it would make me more of a freak, that I didn’t want to be treated like an animal. He likes that shit- fear makes me look tame. Manageable. Makes ‘em want to coddle me.- His breath came in a steadier burst now. -He knew I was scared too. I acted exactly like when they first brought me here. He won’t hold that against me.. No.. No, he wouldn’t. No reason to freak out over something that hasn’t happened yet… I’ll.. Deal with it if he says anything. I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s fine.-

The mantra looped in his head until the anger and panic began to dull. With a long, deep breath, he forced his shoulders to relax, jaw to unclench. -I’ve been back a week, he hasn’t said anything about those months. It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s gonna be fine.- It wasn’t very convincing but he pushed through, letting his body move on instinct. The machine whirred under him as three in the morning bled into four, into five, into six. At some point he’d passed the ten-mile mark without realizing, body not aching. But his mind- it still buzzed, too awake, too alive.

Eventually he slid off the treadmill, breath finally coming in slow and even as he moved toward the weight racks. The men still in the room, and the others who had come since, flinched back as he passed, the one using the weights pretending to need something from the far corner just to get out of his way. Steve didn’t bother to look at him, just bent, lifted, and let the iron bite into his palms.

The repetition didn’t help. The rhythmic clink of weight that used to center him on his worst days only grated now. The pressure under his skin felt wrong, and his patience frayed thread by thread until he dropped a dumbbell just a little too hard on purpose, the clang cracking through the gym like thunder. Someone gasped, they all flinched back. The silence that followed had him smiling.

But the weights got old fast, so he moved onto the punching bags. They weren’t built for him- not here, there was no specially designed equipment, no reinforced walls. His first hit sent the bag slamming into the wall, chains screeching against its mount. Another split the seam down its middle, sand spilling over his feet. He could’ve broken them all if he wanted. But he held back. Always holding back. And that was the worst part- the constant restraint, the way he always had to be in control. It left him restless, coiled, ready to snap.

The lab started waking up around six, the air in the gym shifting with it. The lights brightened, the scent of cheap coffee and detergent drifting in from the halls replacing the cool sterility of the night shift. And with it came people, trickling in- guards, techs, assistants- the early risers who thought they could sneak in a workout before their shifts.

They all froze the moment they noticed him. Every. Single. One.

Fear rolled off them in thick waves, heartbeats hammered too fast, breaths stuttered, their sweat turned cold. It hit him all at once- like static running under his skin, prickling and hot. And God, it was intoxicating. They flinched every time he moved- when he adjusted his grip, when he so much as rolled a shoulder, when his eyes swept across the mirror and caught theirs- like he might lunge for one of them. He should’ve ignored it, walked out even, let them have their morning. But the thrill was too sharp to resist. The quiet power in it, the way he didn’t have to do anything for them to break.

So he stayed. He let the silence stretch until it was suffocating.

He caught movement in the mirror- a young lab tech, a new face, pretending he wasn’t staring. But his gaze wasn’t afraid. It lingered lower, slow, measuring. Steve tilted his head, curiosity cutting through the haze of boredom. The guy was.. Checking him out? Not gawking- appraising. His eyes flicked from Steve’s chest, tanktop sticking to him slick with sweat, down the line of his stomach to his hips. It was subtle, but Steve caught it.

For a second, he just watched him. Then his reflection met the man’s in the mirror- locked on, unblinking. He bit back a snarl as he held the man's gaze until the tech’s confidence wavered, until his pulse spiked, until color drained from his face and his throat bobbed in a silent swallow.

Steve smiled. Just a small, tight pull at the corner of his mouth. The tech tore his eyes away, muttering something he didn’t bother to pay attention to and pretending to adjust a strap on his machine. The scent of his unease hit Steve’s nose a second later. He laughed quietly, the sound was low, genuine, a little cruel. That was the thrill of it. Not just the fear, but the control. The way he could twist tension into silence, into obedience, into anything he wanted.

Amusement curled in his chest- not quite pleasure, but not shame either. He didn’t know what to call it anymore. But it was something, something he looked forward to these days. Maybe it was sick, finding pleasure in it. Maybe it was wrong. He didn’t care, hadn’t cared in a long time.

Though, eventually, the novelty wore thin. They were too easy, too fragile. He didn’t even need to speak, didn’t need to move. Just shifting to one side of the gym sent them scattering to the other side -like roaches.-

He sighed, bored now, rolling his neck until it cracked. Time to bother someone new. And what a perfect time too.

He spared a second to check himself in the mirror again, flattening his sweat-damp hair into something vaguely neat. His eyes glinted a dangerous amber when the light hit them. He looked alive. Sharp. Hungry. Then, with a lazy stretch and a roll of his still-tight shoulder, he left the gym.

The hall now hummed with quiet activity- distant radio chatter, the click of boots on concrete, the hum of elevators both coming and going. Too many heartbeats, too loud. A patrol he passed froze mid-step, straightening immediately, their wary gazes tracked his every movement, hands twitching near their belts.

He didn’t pay them any attention, just smiled to himself as he walked past- letting their fear trail behind him like cologne.

Steve took the stairs, the quiet echoing with his shoes slapping against concrete. The elevator meant standing around strangers who desperately tried not to breathe too loud, lest they annoy him. They always moved aside, making room in a crowded elevator even if it meant pressing themselves together against the wall, just so he wouldn’t have to wait. He just.. Didn’t feel like dealing with that right now. It was fun, sure. But something was just.. Off about this morning.

Nine floors down wasn’t too much. He’d done worse. -How far was it?- he wondered absently. -Fifteen floors up? Twenty? Had to of been more… Felt like it at least.- The memory of their escape still came in flashes- blood, alarms, the sting of air that wasn’t being recycled. He tried not to think about it too much. Before he knew it, the door groaned open onto his floor and instead of heading to his room, he turned right- toward the kitchens.

He allowed his footsteps to click down, echoing softly, just to break the silence. He started humming to himself too, something light, old. He didn’t even know the words anymore, but the sound made people turn. Eyes darted toward him- fear blooming instantly. Someone fumbled a clipboard, another stumbled over their own feet trying to get out of the way. A guard- definitely new, by the look of his fresh too starched uniform- looked like he was about to cry. -Aww, they’re still telling stories about me.-

Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. -Because of course if I’m having a good morning, it must mean someone’s getting ‘fired’. I’m not allowed to just hum. Because God forbid I enjoy life a little. Might just be the end of the world… Their world anyway.- He tossed in a little spin on his heels just to make the passing scientist yelp and drop his tablet. It cracked on the floor and his smirk finally broke through, unbidden. -Idiots the lot of ‘em, scared of their own shadows.-

Pushing into the kitchen he let the noise wash over him- the hiss of pans, the clatter of utensils, the hum of the fridges. It was warm here, alive.

Then he stepped fully inside, and everything went quiet.

Dozens of eyes flicked toward him before darting away, you could hear a pin drop. The air thickened with a smell he almost craved here- fear again, sweat, adrenaline. Steve leaned back against the counter, letting the cold mask slip back into place. The stillness was delicious.

He didn’t say a word. Just waited.

The cook closest to him turned, noticed how close he’d gotten, and the pan the man was holding slipped and crashed to the floor, scattering eggs everywhere. Steve looked down at the mess, then back up- slow, deliberate. The man’s face had gone grey, lips trembling.

Steve tilted his head, gaze sliding past him to the head chef- a woman today. She stood stiff, ladle in hand, eyes wide with fear.

And.. Oh. He knew her.

A memory slithered up- a cold room, metal floor, metal walls, practically a box he’d been shoved into, knees kept at an awkward angle out, ankles crossed over one another. A tray shoved out above him, before its contents spilled by his feet with the tray clattering on top. She’d even spat on it, voice sharp with disgust, smirking like she’d won something as she’d walked out.

Leaning forward, Steve smiled now. All teeth. She flinched so hard she almost burned her wrist on the stove. “Mmmorning,” he said brightly, voice honey-sweet and fake. “I do hope you have human blood for me today- I’m feeling rather parched.”

Her eyes flicked to the man beside her, looking for help. He offered none, rushing to check the cabinet he knew they kept the blood in.

“Well?” He prompted tone tightening. “I’ll take a full breakfast. Extra portions, obviously. And none of that powdered shit- real eggs will do.”

She blinked, mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

He sighed dramatically, eyes rolling. “Get on with it!” His voice wasn’t loud, it didn’t have to be. The room still jumped anyway- every hand moving at once, utensils clattering, ovens slamming, panic barely held at bay. He leaned back comfortably watching the chaos unfold, the hum of fear thrumming like a song under his skin.

Bracing his hands back against the counter behind him, he let the warmth of the kitchen attempt to wash the cold away- it didn’t work, of course. But it was nice nonetheless. Steve didn’t need to move around to command attention; his unnatural stillness was enough, especially when he stopped letting his chest rise and fall. Around him, the staff scrambled- the slap of spatulas, the hiss of oil, the chaotic rhythm of people trying not to look at him while acutely aware he was there.

Steve started humming again.

Softly at first, aimless, something that might’ve been cheerful in another life, before it twisted in his throat. The sound carried through the room, gentle but unmistakable- wrong. It was the sound of something that should have been human, but they knew better- or thought they did.

The reactions were instant. Hands fumbled, a bowl clattered against the counter, a few sharp intakes of breath choked back into silence. The hum deepened, and he smiled faintly, watching shoulders stiffen all around him. -Predictable- it amused him. -And yet.. So very satisfying.-

The woman- her- kept glancing over her shoulder. Every time she dared a look, she dropped her gaze before he could catch it. Her movements were jerky, hands trembling as she whisked the eggs- like she expected him to do something. -Not yet.- He took a deep breath in, her nerves smelt sharp and metallic like the blood they were warming for him. Steve let the hum trail off just long enough to make her think it was over. Then started again, softer, closer to a tune this time- a lullaby, maybe. That had her shoulders drawing up tight.

A voice broke the tension. Small. Fragile. “S-Sir?”

His eyes flicked toward it. A man, definitely a new recruit, too young to have been here before, approaching. Shoulders held tight, clutching a metal plate as if it were a shield over his stomach, gaze fixed on the floor, voice shaking. “Do you- um- prefer… Blueberry or chocolate?”

The question hung there, trembling in the air.

Steve raised a brow, watching him for a beat too long. Then he pushed off the counter, moving slowly, almost stalking. The faint tap of his sneakers on the tile made the young man flinch. He leaned forward, forearms bracing against the counter between them, posture loose but predatory. “Blueberry or chocolate, huh?” he repeated softly, head tilting. Then, voice stone cold, “Look at me.”

The man froze, breath hitching.

Leaning in a little further, he moved to catch the young man’s eyes under his lashes. The man tried to glance away, jaw trembling, but slowly his eyes finally flicked up- just for a second- but it was enough.

The moment their eyes met, Steve smiled. Slow. Pleased. The kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. -At least someone around here has some balls.- “I’ll take both,” he finally answered, each word drawn out with a deliberate ease. “I’m feeling positively ravenous.”

The man froze. Around them, the sound of cooking faltered. He could hear someone inhale sharply, the faint clatter of a utensil dropping to his right. The word hung there like a threat- not shouted, not sharp, but heavy with implication. The man’s throat bobbed, then he turned so fast he nearly fell over his own feet, scurrying back toward the far counter. He watched with a faint curl of his lips, a cruel soft of humor glinting in his eyes.

Steve leaned back again, folding his arms loosely across his chest. The room was back to a flurry of quiet panic- movement without sound, like prey trying not to draw attention to itself. But eventually, the woman approached. He saw her coming before she’d looked in his direction, tray trembling lightly in her hands. She set it down in front of him with exaggerated care, knuckles pale where she gripped the edges. Beside it, she placed a personal bottle of orange justice and a tall glass- steaming faintly, of blood.

Steve reached for the glass first.

It reeked, human, fresh. They’d gotten it within the last day or two. He didn’t need to check- he knew the scent, could pick it out from across a crowded room- but he did anyway, just to watch her squirm. He brought the rim to his nose and took a long, slow inhale, eyes locked on hers. She didn’t look away fast enough, the sound of her breath stuttering was almost lost beneath the hum of the kitchen. But not to him.

Satisfied, Steve took a long, slow drink. The blood was thick, rich with heat. He didn’t blink as he drank, eyes never leaving her. And when the glass was empty, he set it down softly directly in front of her, the last of its warmth cooling against his fingers.

Only then did he look down at the tray.

A double portion of scrambled eggs, real eggs, took up a large section of the tray. There were several pancakes covered in butter and syrup, and two large muffins- one chocolate, one blueberry- crowned with sugar crystals in the next section. A small bowl of assorted fruit- strawberries, melon, blueberries- all bright against the grey tray. And finally a row of sausages, some bacon crisped to perfection, and hashbrowns all crowded around one another.

Steve hummed again, quieter this time. Pleased.

He picked at the chocolate muffin, tearing off a small bite, letting the crumbs stick to his fingers as he chewed slowly. His eyes stayed on her the whole time.

“Bon appetit,” he almost whispered.

The words landed exactly as he intended. Her face drained of color and he watched at the exact moment of recognition hit- the memory of her spitting those same words at him as she spit into his food splattered across the floor.

Steve's smile widened.

The scent of fear thickened until he could’ve drowned in it. Instead, he picked up the tray and orange juice, straightening to his full height. For a moment, he considered saying something else- one more taunt, something to really make her jump- but decided against it. She looked ready to faint already.

As he turned toward the door, he caught the faint metallic scent of his own amusement- the lingering echo of blood and satisfaction. He walked out without another word, the weight of the room’s silence following him like a shadow.

The halls were quiet again, but not yet empty, the distant murmur of voices carrying form somewhere far off- guards talking, the clatter of carts- but no one was near. His sneakers were almost silent against the floor and for once, no one appeared around the corner, no startled guard, no nervous attendant. Just the low hum of the building, it was.. Nice.

He liked it this way.

Smirking to himself, Steve swore he could still smell her lingering fear clinging to him- sharp, sour, satisfying. When he reached his room, he shoved the orange juice under his arm to fish out his key and unlock the door. He set the tray on his desk, toed off his shoes, and slid into the chair.

Finally, peace.

He ate slowly, methodically, savoring each bite like he had all the time in the world.

The tray was half-finished by the time his appetite began to fade. The muffins were gone entirely, a few scattered crumbs left beside the empty bowl of fruit. The eggs had cooled, fork resting lazily atop the few bites left. Steve sat back in the chair, eyes half-lidded, rolling the bottle of orange juice between his palms before twisting the top off with a soft pop.

The first sip was cold enough to make his teeth momentarily ache. Sweet, sharp citrus cutting through the lingering taste of blood and chocolate. He drank it slowly, savoring the sting at the back of his throat until the bottle was empty. He put it down on his desk, and with a flick of a finger, the can crushed itself.

For a while, Steve just sat there- staring at the near empty tray, the faint crumbs sprinkled around. Then, with a quiet exhale, he stood and picked it up. The utensils clattered softly as he moved toward the door. Cracking it open, he leaned halfway into the hall which was thankfully empty except for footsteps in the distance. With practiced ease, he tossed the tray down onto the table outside the door, grabbing the final pancake, before letting the door swing shut again with a muffled click of the lock.

The room was dim still, the only light coming from the pale sliver under the outer door. -Maybe I should ask to be upgraded to one of those suites. Little kitchen of my own and an actual bedroom door. It wouldn’t hurt to keep the noise out.- He pursed his lips as the thought of moving. -Maybe not.- A flick of the switch sent the overheads humming to life, the sudden brightness stabbing at him. He blinked against it, pupils tightening before they adjusted, the sterile glow settling over the space. Steve walked across the room, the wardrobe opening to greet him with a muted creak -getting used to hands free again- he hummed quietly. Inside, everything was folded nearly, exactly the same with a sort of mechanical precision- a symptom of habit rather than care. He pulled free a clean, overly fluffy towel from the top shelf, pressing it briefly against his face.

Padding into the bathroom, he flicked on the lights, the white grey-tiled space coming alive in a sterile, almost blinding brightness. A quiet huff escaped as he looked at the mirror- a smiley face drawn in the middle of it with soap. He’d gotten a little too bored last night. The sound of water filled the quiet space as he twisted the knobs on the shower, steam billowing instantly against the cool air.

For a second, Steve just stood there, head bowed, watching the water spill against the tiles, tracing the small rivers it made before spiraling down the drain. Then, with a long exhale, he moved to turn on the tub’s faucets, letting it start to fill. The faint scents of the bath soap mixing with the humidity, curled sweetly through the air- clean, almost floral.

But the shower came first, just to wash off the sweat. He stepped beneath the spray, eyes closing as the first brush of heat rolled over his skin. Droplets ran down the lines of his shoulders, tracing his spine, his scars, washing away the sheen of sweat and the faint tang of metal that always seemed to cling to him now. He didn’t linger on it- didn’t let his thoughts follow where they wanted to go- just scrubbed himself clean in silence, the sound of rushing water filing down the sharp corners of his mind. An easy noise to disappear into.

By the time he turned off the shower, the bath was nearly ready. Steam poured in thick waves, curling against the mirror and the glass of the shower, fogging them both until his reflection was nothing but a vague silhouette. The air was comfortably dense with heat.

Still dripping, he stepped out of the shower and crossed to the tub. The water shimmered finally, bubbles covering the surface. Steve tested it with a finger, smiling faintly at the near-boiling warmth. Anyone else would’ve cried out, flinched back. He sank into it with a quiet appreciative groan. The initial burn was sharp and stung against his skin- before immediately melting into something close to bliss. Muscles that had been tight since before he’d even woke up here a week ago finally began to loosen. He leaned his head back against the built in bath pillow, breath leaving in a long, quiet, pleased sigh. The heat seemed to reach straight into his bones, dissolving the tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.

For a while, Steve just stayed there, letting the steam curl around him, listening to the soft hiss of the still-running water mixing in with the steady rhythm of his breathing. And when the level crept too high, the automatic shut off clicked, and silence settled in its place. The thoughts he tried to keep out drifted as easily as the bubbles across the surface. That sick amusement he’d felt earlier- the satisfaction of watching the kitchen staff flinch and fumble under his gaze- lingered in his chest like the aftertaste of something sweet gone sour. It had felt good, at first. Powerful, easy. Not now, in the quiet warmth. It just felt hollow.

A slow ache threaded through his chest, dull and all too familiar these days.

The room around him faded, and Steve could almost imagine another presence here- laughter echoing off the tiles, a hand trailing up his arm, rings catching the light. Eddie’s voice, low and teasing, something soft said just to make him roll his eyes. He could picture it perfectly; curls damp and wild, arms resting over the side of the tub, fingers reaching to brush against his.

A phantom warmth that wasn’t there.

His throat tightened. The bubbles shifting as he exhaled, parting the way the staff did for him. The sound he made was quiet, almost painful. -Would’ve been nice,- his gaze unfocused on the steam curling in front of him. -Just to sit here. No fear, no noise. Just him… Just us.- The ache in his chest deepened. A sigh slipped out, long and tired, more air than sound, and Steve let himself slide down until the water lapped just below his nose, the heat wrapping around him like a heavy blanket.

The water ripped faintly as he kept himself still, eyes half-closed, letting the silence swallow him- warmth and loneliness and memories tangling together until they were one and the same. It was… He wanted to…

-The first thing I’m gonna do is tell you I love you. The second is to beg for your forgiveness, even if I don’t deserve it. The third…- A huff left his nose, blowing bubbles across the water. -I’ll tell you I love you just to hear it again, just so you know it’s real.-

---

Steam still clung to his skin as Steve leaned against the edge of the tub, water dripping from his hair to the tiles. The bath had gone cold long ago, but he’d stayed until the surface had turned glassy and still, until the ache in his muscles had ebbed into something dull and hollow. When he finally stood the shift from warmth to the cool air raised goosebumps along his arms, his fingers were prunes and pale as his healing uncomfortably began to smooth the skin. The soft towel felt scratchy against him as he slung it low on his hips, using the smaller hanging towel to rub roughly through his hair, dragging at it until it sat damp and heavy against his forehead. The motion wasn’t tender- it was distracted, mechanical.

He caught his reflection in the fogged mirror again as he left the bathroom, pausing a moment to watch it clear just enough for his own eyes to stare back. Something faintly unhinged still lingered there, the restless energy from the morning refusing to settle even after the comfort of a bath. His nerves hummed- too aware, too awake, too… Ready.

Crossing into his room, he stood in front of the wardrobe, fingers brushing over soft clothes as though he might somehow find something different, something he was secretly wishing for- a faded fraying sweatshirt with a design he could trace in his sleep plastered across it. Instead, with a muted exhale, he pulled out a worn, dark green sweater- one that had faded over years of washing but still clung to warmth. The ever present cold was making itself known today, like it was attempting to eat him down to the bone.

Dropping the towel onto the floor he pulled the sweater over his head, letting it cling to damp skin as it pulled at his shoulders. Sweatpants followed, dark grey and soft, the kind of fabric that dulled the edges of his irritation.. Just a little. Socks too- which he rarely bothered with- trying to chase the chill away.

Glancing at the clock quietly ticking away on the wall- ten already. He gave a faint shrug to himself, -Brenner will be in his office by now.- The thought sat heavy, like a weight he didn’t want to pick up but had no choice but to carry. Grabbing his keycard and room key, he once again decided shoes were unnecessary. He wasn’t going outside after all- just above ground which.. Was almost worse. The sterile familiarity of the lower levels had its own comfort; up there was… The world felt almost too alive.

The door clicked shut softly behind him as he stepped into the quiet hall, trying to ignore how the air felt even colder now as he locked it behind him. Running a hand roughly through his still damp hair to force it off his forehead, Steve continued on, steps silent to any passing ears. Every few turns he passed a guard, and he could feel their heartbeats- quicker when they saw him, trembling as he drew nearer. The sound was intoxicating and infuriating all at once. Each thump and stutter sent something deep inside him stirring, an echo of hunger and satisfaction intertwined. It made the corners of his mouth twitch, but the constant sensory barrage also grated, tension building under his skin until it buzzed like a live wire.

He rolled his shoulders as the furthest elevator came into view, irritation thrumming tight in his chest. Two guards stood there, as always, too rigid, too obviously nervous. They didn’t meet his eye, pretending instead to study their guns. It made his lips curl as he could hear their pulses practically jumping in their throats. He liked that- liked knowing he didn’t have to say a word to command fear- but it still left something raw inside him, an edge he couldn’t seem to dull.

With a quiet scoff, he turned on his heels choosing the stairs instead. The motion was slow, calculated- a silent defiance. The lock beeped as he slid his keycard into the access slot, the door giving with a heavy groan.

Each step up came easily now, body thrumming with strength and excess energy. -Easier than when we escaped… Guess not dodging bullets or cramming myself through a sweltering vent helps.- Six floors up, he swiped the card again, moving through another stretch of dimly lit halls to the next stairwell. The fluorescent lights flickered faintly above, the same annoying humming had his temper pricking at the edges again.

The further up he went, the more the air changed- less filtered, more alive. Steve could smell things now: detergent, strong coffee, the copper tang of blood somewhere far off, the metallic sting of equipment, and things he didn’t wish to think about. Every new scent pressed in, sent his instincts clawing at the back of his skull. By the ninth floor, his patience wore thin.

So he stopped at the next landing, exhaling sharply as he decided- the elevator would be faster than enduring another round of noise clawing at him.

The guards stationed outside the elevator bay tensed when they saw him emerge. He didn’t even glance their way, just reached past them to swipe the card at the call panel, and waited. The hum of the elevator arriving was almost soothing in its predictability. Inside, he repeated the motion- card swipe, floor selected. The only difference was this time a little star lit up for him.

When the doors opened again, the hum of machinery had finally given way to the murmur of distant voices, the faint sound of shuffling papers and ringing phones. The upper levels always felt wrong to him- too human. Too loud. Rolling his shoulders, Steve forced his expression into something carefully blank even as his nerves buzzed beneath the surface, before stepping out. The pair of guards straightened at his approach. But he ignored them too, cutting down the long hall to the far left. Two more turns, then a narrow hallway which ended in an unremarkable metal door which anyone would have presumed was just another maintenance closet. Another swipe. Another click.

Beyond was a small, private hallway, only wide enough for a single person to fit though- quiet, padded with soundproof panels. He preferred it in here, the air didn’t press into him quite as hard. The single-person elevator at the end waited already, polished and still. Like it knew he was coming. He stepped in, no need for keys or card here, and pressed the button for the twelfth floor, riding up in comforting silence.

It was but a few seconds before he was walking out taking a route he knew all too well: two lefts, a right, then a straight walk down the main hall until he reached the middle door. Steve rapped his knuckles once- sharp but polite, far more than he felt right now. In actuality he felt.. Annoyed. He didn’t particularly want to be up here today it was.. A lot. Being above ground did things to him, instincts screaming that it was wrong- that he was too exposed, too vulnerable, too seen. His senses were running in overdrive with all the different scents and sounds. It was more active up here than he was used to.

“Come in.” The voice, almost bored, snapped him from his thoughts. Pushing the door open, Steve moved with measured caution. Brenner sat at his desk, perfectly composed as always, the same smile cutting across his face.

“Ah, Steven,” his smile grew, tone becoming warm. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

Steve blinked slowly, head tilting, just slightly. He couldn’t really figure the man out anymore.. If he ever could. “Couldn’t really turn my mind off. Had an.. Annoying dream, woke up angry, so I went up to the gym, bothered the chefs for a little while, and took a bath. Same old, same old.”

Brenner quietly chuckled, more breath from his nose than anything, and gestured toward the chair opposite him. Steve shut the door before moving to sit in the surprisingly comfortable chair, letting himself sink into it. “Ah yes,” the man started, fingers knocking on the desk as he turned to face Steve. “I’ve had about a dozen complaints from the staff about you just these last two days.”

A brow lifted. “Oh?”

The man waved it off, a faint smirk ghosting his lips. “Not that they’d ever name you. They’re too worried they’d lose their jobs. But apparently, we have a… Bothersome employee.”

A low amused breath escaped Steve’s nose as he leaned back in the chair, forcing a smile that tugged too tight at the corner of his mouth. “Is that what I’m here for then? A reprimand?”

“Oh hardly.” Brenner immediately replied, tone silky, indulgent. “As if I’d ever take away your fun.” He reached into his desk, rummaging briefly before producing a small metal key, its shine caught Steve’s eye. “I’ve gone over your data,” the man continued, “your vitals have been registering in the greens, a few yellows here and there but that’s to be expected. So.. I believe it’s high time we remove that collar of yours.”

For a heartbeat, Steve simply blinked- slow, incredulous- his gaze ping-ponging from the key in Brenner’s hand back to the man’s smile. “That’s it? A week of this thing buzzing in my ear and now I’m.. Good?”

Brenner kept hold of the key as he leaned back over and tapped quickly on his keyboard. The collar’s low, constant hum cut out mid-ring like someone had switched off a radio. Silence, actual silence, pressed against Steve’s skull almost painfully now. A second later, Brenner rose and crossed the room, coming to stand beside him.

“I know it was rather.. Bothersome.” Brenner conceded, voice syrup-smooth. “But it was merely a precaution for reintegration mishaps.” -Precaustion, my ass.- “But you’ve proven, once again, you’re far stronger than any of our previous patients.” -Yes because all your ‘patients’ are upside down freaks… Well..-

He almost flinched, having not realized the man even moved. But the hands were gentle, clinical. Brenner palmed the locking mechanism, fingers deft enough that Steve felt almost lulled despite himself. “Hold still,” was murmured in his ear, “this may pinch.” The words were almost tender as Steve tipped his head away out of reflex and felt the collar unclip, metal whispering against skin as it came free. For the first time since he woke up there was no longer a squeezing pain around his throat, the absence was a hollow, dizzying sensation, quickly overtaken by the tingling of his healing kicking in.

“You’re now free to do as you like,” Brenner informed from back behind his desk as he slid the collar into a drawer, shutting it like some unpleasant secret. “Not that you weren’t before, but your every move will no longer be monitored.”

Freedom tasted.. He isn’t sure there’s a word for it but off. Steve let out a soft, involuntary hum, the sound more like clearing his throat than gratitude. Then he suddenly leaned forward, almost excited. “Does that mean I can get started on some of my plans now?”

Brenner leaned forward as well, eyes alight. “I’ll be informing the staff shortly that you’re once again free to do as you like, that they are to keep to themselves. But do give it some time to spread around and understand what that means.. Give it until at least after lunch.” He gave a thoughtful hum. “Care to share any of those plans?”

Steve gave the man a smile full of too many teeth, fangs itching to drop. “They treated me like I was a science experiment… They treated me like a monster. I think.. I’ll hunt them down, one by one, and treat them exactly how they think I am…. Speaking of hunting things down.. I have a few new security concerns- upgrades, that I believe you’ll be interested to hear about. Based, of course, on my own escape and recent break in. I think you’ll find some areas are sorely lacking and in need of a complete overhaul.”

Brenner set the pen he had picked up -just to look busy- down with immaculate care, as if this were a simple get together rather than the security of a lab full of dangerous secrets. “Oh Steven,” he rested a hand under his chin, reeking of satisfaction. “It is so good to have you back with us.” His eyes held an emotion Steve refused to dwell on. “I have plenty of time so please, do share. I’m certain the staff would appreciate your input.”

For the next hour he leaned against Brenner’s desk- eventually moving to just straight up sitting on it- while they went over schematics, patrol maps, camera feeds from both exterior and interior angles- and Steve spoke. Not like he was teaching a class, more like someone reading aloud a list of failures and how, bluntly, to fix them.

Maintenance was the first of it. “Those service doors right.. There. Left ajar half the time,” he states, tapping a corridor on the schematic projected across several monitors. “Nobody checks if the doors are locked either- which, I’ve yet to come across one that was.” His knuckles rapped against the bottom right screen. “You route supply trucks through the same side entrance every third Tuesday- predictable.” Fingers trace a path from a storage bay to the outside fence; Brenner watched the line with interest, raised brows, and the annoyance of someone who had thought they’d had complete control. “You need staggered routes, randomization, an actual escort detail for shipments in or out. Cameras are fine, if someone actually watches them.”

Brenner let out an annoyed hum, jotting down another bullet point on his notepad. “I had assumed everything had been taken care of after your escape. It seems some more people may need to be removed from their positions.” He glanced up at Steve. “I’m rather glad you brought such incompetent people here with you. Else we may have had a real issue should they have tried to break in.”

Steve didn’t respond to that, just moved onto the next issues.

“Roof patrols are abysmal- one man, bored, looking at nothing all night and another during the day. One man doesn’t notice someone slipping up behind them. Bolster it. Pressure sensors, if we can. Motion triggers would probably be best, I climbed right up there without anyone noticing. Ah, and reinforce the vent up there so it doesn’t just pop right out. It’s large enough for a grown adult to slip down.” Steve’s voice didn’t rise but the intensity in it did; a coiled thing, ready, as he leaned back on his hands still sitting on the desk.

He walked Brenner through the blind spots in the camera grid, where he noticed at least- angles overlapping poorly, cameras aimed too far at the towers and not enough at the service perimeters. “You have three feed points that can’t see into the loading bay, not that it’s used often, but still. Fix the angles. Add a mirror if you must. Increase low-light sensitivity near the tree line; and whatever they use to send patrols home at the end of shifts leaves gaps.”

Brenner let out a hum of acknowledgement as he quickly wrote notes, but Steve could tell he hardly understood what he was talking about.

Patrol rotations were a favorite topic. “Your rotations are.. Metronome to put it lightly. They’re shit- predictable. The guards walk the same paths over and over. Mix it up. Change the pace, swap routes every few days. And retrain them- no slouching by the towers with a thermos. No smoking in the woods unless they want to be seen.” A short, humorless snort escaped him at the thought. -They really thought me harmless… If I had my memories back then.. I could’ve destroyed them.-

The outside entirely earned a particularly nasty scowl. “Those towers you put up are set like stage props, the men are pointless especially since they face the same direction as the man on the roof, you know.. The one with a higher vantage point.” He raised a brow. “Like I said before.. Train two-man teams for the roof at least, but those towers are useless and can be torn down for wing expansions in the future.” He gave a low hum, nodding to himself. “Move them every shift- the men on the roof, have one face the front and one face the back. And for the love of anything- add tripwire triggers in the forest. There’s a rhythm to the path out there if you know how to listen.” Steve’s fingers drew phantom loops and crosses over the map on screen, each mark a remembered route from his time parading out there.

Then there were keycards and access codes- simple, brutal efficiencies. “Revoke lost card privileges immediately, I thought that would be a given for them but apparently I gave your staff too much faith.” He rolled his eyes. “Limit keycard access to necessary levels for each employee- lab techs only get to go to levels they’re working on, scientists the same and their offices, guards only get to go to where they’re on patrol, so on and so forth. Install biometric secondaries on sensitive doors- voice or retina works. And make sure there’s an audit trail that actually gets reviewed.” He cocked his head and gave Brenner the barest suggestion of a grin. “Or just hand the keys to me and save yourself the trouble. You know I can handle it.”

Brenner interrupted his rants very little, mostly adding notes to his papers. But when he did speak it was measured, like he was tasting a new sample. “Your perspective is enlightening, truely,” he admitted when Steve finally slowed down. “We focused on containment. You focused on movement. Both are necessary.. I’ll authorize an immediate review of patrol patterns and the camera angles. It will take time, but your observations and suggestions will be implemented.”

Gratitude- or something like it- touched Steve for a second in the form of a warm, sharp spike behind his ribs. -Finally, some respect… Or fear, dressed in usefulness.- He rubbed his thumb over the cold wood under his hand. “And the vents,” he added softly, “seal certain junctions. Pressure valves should be put in if you think they’ve been used for smuggling during shifts, make the valves alarmed to a central feed. You’d be surprised how many places don’t think to monitor airflow, or the quality.”

A pause, then Brenner reached out and slowly changed the schematics over to the Pitt and its holding cells. “We’ll run simulated breaches,” he started, words clinical and cold now. “We’ll test how an agent might exploit those very spots.”

“Do it at night, less people around to understand what’s happening. Don’t let them know when either.” -Teach the dogs what it feels like to be hunted, if you want them to remember.- Steve’s lips twitched, like he wanted to smile.

They moved through the rest of the building like two halves of one machine- Brenner with his clinical detachment and annoyance at his staff’s failure, interrupting only to confirm logistics; Steve with a dangerous, lived knowledge that made his observations cut clean. He explained where motion sensors had been installed upside down, cameras where glare rendered them useless, and staff rotations that mirrored a prisoner’s time on a treadmill: monotonous, easy to anticipate.

They were as close to equals at this moment. Brenner sitting at his desk furiously writing on his notepads, and Steve, now standing once again in front of the desk pointing out different areas of issue.

Maps grew messy with Steve’s scribbles when Brenner was forced to pull out paper copies, needing better visuals than a screen could provide- notations in the margins, arrows and X’s, circled blind spots that made Brenner pause to cross-reference. “If you patch these holes,” Steve stared at the blueprints, voice low and flat, “you make it harder for everyone who thinks they can take something they aren’t entitled to. If you don’t? I’ll show you what happens then.”

The suggestion was not a threat so much as an offer with teeth. Brenner, for all his polite cruelty, seemed to approve; the man’s smile spreading slow and almost proud. “We shall begin with the roof and exterior,” he decided. “Biometrics added to the deeper levels as a start, and an overhaul of the monitoring system- no.. An actual surveillance team dedicated to feed review.” He nodded to himself, quickly writing it all down.

Wood creaked gently somewhere beyond the office, beyond the walls and windows- an insignificant sound that felt, in that moment, like a reminder of how thin the veneer of control could be. Steve’s back was straight, shoulders tense; the hum of his own pulse thrumming soft and steady under his skin.

Time slid by with the slow inevitability of gears turning. As much as he wanted to dive straight into the uglier things- into retribution and the satisfaction of watching the people who’d spat at him now flinch at the mere shadow of his approach- some brokerage was unavoidable. There were approvals to make, people to direct, resources to be allocated. Researchers needed to be placated, guards repositioned, staff to nudge like a tower of cards.

Brenner closed the final file on his computer before turning his attention entirely to Steve, eyes cool and assessing. “We’ll set a timetable. Security upgrades, new policy changes, remodels to be done. I’ll have it start with the roof teams and the biometrics; the rest will follow to be fully complete within the month, I hope. Anything else you think we’ve forgotten?”

Steve let out a slow, satisfied breath and allowed the smallest of smiles to slip free. Plans were forming- layers upon layers. Some would be structural, an integral part to the bigger picture. Some psychological, mostly for amusement. And some brutally personal. For now though, the finger points had to be translated into memos and morning meetings complete with budget sheets. Breathe. Wait. Prepare.

As much as he’d like to move though with his plans as soon as possible, some things needed to be done the proper way. One wrong move and he’d be right back where he started. “No.. I believe we’ve covered all that I have. As long as things are done properly, this place should be exactly as you promised me from the start.”

Brenner inclined his head with a fond smile. “We’ll make sure it is, properly now.. Together.”

Steve felt whatever it was trying to claw up inside him loosen a fraction. It was all too much and too little to give up and there were still battles to come; he knew their shapes down to the teeth. But for a moment, an easier victory hung in the air- one purchased in blueprints and procedures, not blood. He would take that small win and let it sit at the back of his teeth like sugar waiting to dissolve.

He sank back into the comfortable chair once again, sinking down into it. “So..” He drew out the word, voice flat at first before turning softer. “Any news on our.. Guests?”

Brenner’s fingers hovered over his keyboard for a beat, then continued typing as if it were nothing. “We attempted to remove Eleven from the group yesterday,” the man answered, measured. “It did not go smoothly.”

Something cold slid through Steve’s chest even before the words finished, tension threading along his jaw as he forced his muscles to keep still. “You tried.. And-?” The question scraped out, brittle. A few seconds of silence stretched thin between them.

“We tried,” Brenner repeated, voice smoothing the edges off the admission. “Hopper and Byers- and some of those children.. Resisted. It would have required significant sedation and force. Given the fallout risk, I halted the extraction. For now, the status quo remains. The project I was going to attempt with her is on hold for now at least until we get the lab back in order.”

Anger didn’t arrive like a hot flare this time; it simmered, dull and tight. “You didn’t tell me,” Steve kept the bite out of his voice, the words coming small but sharp. -Of course you didn’t. You’d announce it if it benefitted you. Keep me in the dark if you think I’ll go against it.-

Brenner’s face softened in a way that felt almost dangerous. “I did attempt to reach you, but you had requested solitude for a few hours in your office,” he reminded. “You’d said something about catching up on paperwork.”

That detail pinched- Steve had demanded it actually; he’d threatened quiet with a promise that left people white as a sheet and reeking of fear. Still, the distance between the two of them suddenly felt like a canyon that he hadn’t planned to cross right now. “I.. Suppose I had.” He hummed quietly. “How is Munson’s- Edward’s- project progressing?” his voice came tight now, a raw edge to it. “I’ll admit.. I’m starting to get a little angry. I wan ‘d like to see him.”

Brenner shifted, fingers tapping a brief rhythm on the desk as if counting out an answer. “Longer than anticipated,” the answer came slow and careful. “A number of unforeseen variables have complicated the process. I’m no longer able to give a definitive timetable as I myself don’t have one..” The words settled between them like a damp cloth.

For a breath, a hot, unbearable thought clawed up from somewhere at the back of Steve’s mind- images of empty rooms, of a cold bed, of absence wrapping itself around him like ice. -No.. No. He knew exactly how long it was going to take and just gave me hope, he isn’t… He can’t be..- “Is he dead?” The question ripped out like a sudden punch to the gut as he stared the man down. He hadn’t even meant to ask it. “Is he.. Dead?” He asks again, calmer. But when he was just met with silence, Steve pushed himself up angrily getting to his feet. “Is he dead?!” He bites out, not yet yelling, but almost. He didn’t know which answer would be worse, but he needed to hear the like. Or the truth. -I swear if he’s.. If he’s-

“No.” Brenner’s reply was flat, which made Steve flinch. The man folded his hands under his chin, watching Steve in a way that felt too much like an inspection. “He’s alive as much as either of you can be- considering the nature of what we’re doing down there.” A faint series of emotions passed over Brenner’s face- something like pity, curiosity, amusement. -’Caring’ without any real sentiment. Clinical fondness… Like I’m his favorite toy.- The thoughts were biting, on the edge of anger.

Words held him halfway- threats, pleas, the bitter scream that had built in the back of his throat- then it all bled away like color from water when the truth sank in. The room tilted for a second; the monstrous pressure in his chest that had been building for- he isn’t sure how long, maybe hours, ebbed into a kind of exhausted reflex. Limbs slacked, breath came hoarse and long, and he sank back into the chair like a puppet with cut strings.

“I.. Apologize.” It came out ragged, smaller than he’d exposed. “I just-” a hand curled around the arm of the chair until it threatened to break. “I miss him.” The admission tasted of something raw and childish. -Miss him. Miss him so bad it hurts.- “With him it was… Like my senses were calmed. I feel.. Disjointed without him.”

“Ah.” Was Brenner’s quiet response as his expression softened further, an odd, almost paternal crease at his eyes. “I regret any pain this has caused you,” he kept his voice low. “You are.. Affected more deeply than I anticipated. And for that, I am sorry.” The words had the weight of someone who genuinely meant them it was.. Unnerving. “But I cannot say I wouldn’t still have put him into this.. Test, knowing how it would affect you.”

A thread of shame stabbed through Steve’s chest- shame that he, someone they thought was a monster, a predator, could be undone by longing. The admission of loneliness earned him a gentleness that stung more than outright cruelty ever had. He closed his eyes for a beat, and then, let a dry humorless sound slip free. “I just.. Suppose I’m lonely. -Play it off.- “Lonely.. Yeah.” Another small laugh, more hollow than amused. “Maybe I should make it the guards’ problem. Taking a bite out of something might just be exactly what I need. Fresh blood and all that.”

A small, delighted spark lit in Brenner’s eyes at the unguarded threat. “Just what I was thinking. I’ll see to it that you’re given the opportunity,” he promised, amusement wafting off him in thick waves. “Go have lunch, and after you may.. Go hunting.”

With that Steve pushed himself up, stretching his spine until small cracks articulated the motion. “Good.” He let his lips curl into a grin “As nice as this was. I believe I have some planning to do, people to entertain, snacks to catch.” The grin was performative, a mask that had teeth made sharper by resolve. He ignored the man’s dismissal, choosing instead to leave on his own terms.

But before he could grab the door, his hand hovered, indecisive- then spiteful. Petty was easier than grateful. “There’s something else, I keep forgetting to ask about it.” The words came out flat but with a sharp edge under them as he turned back around, looking under his nails as if bored.

Brenner didn’t look surprised; he just cocked his head, fingers already half-returned to typing as if he’d expected interruptions. “Oh? Do tell.”

Steve gave a short hum, something like amusement but also calculation. “I was going to check the security feeds on our.. Guests, which reminded me. When you caught them, one of them should have had a sword… It’s mine. I left it in their possession and I’d like it back.”

A subtle lift of Brenner’s brow, almost indulgent. “I thought you preferred knives.”

“Used to.. Still do. But I’ve been working with it lately. I like it, has a nice design.” A small, almost private grin flickered and died. Pride was small and necessary these days.

Brenner tapped a few keys, thinking aloud. “You always did like pretty things.” -What?- “We logged most confiscated items into storage. Either your floor or evidence holding below.” He waved as if the logistics were minor and beneath him. “I can order someone to go find it, or, if you’d prefer, you can fetch it yourself.”

“I’ll go get it.” His answer was almost too fast. “Don’t need sticky fingers or ‘accidents’ cropping up.” He stowed the conversation with a clipped nod. “Also- I had personal items ordered with the last shipment. Have someone I don’t like bring them down to me, kill two birds with one.. Vampire, so to speak.” He almost grinned.

“Consider it done.” Brenner’s response was placating, efficient as he nodded to himself. For a second the older man’s expression softened into something that almost read like care- serrated and practiced, not quite affection.

Steve just nodded back, turning to the door and leaving without another word. He didn’t pay attention to where he was going or who he passed, just let his feet take him where he needed to go. The truth that Eddie lived was a fulcrum. But for a maddening second the world had been a cliff’s edge, then a sliver of solid ground reappeared under him just as quick. Relief washed raw and immediate, leaving a hollow feeling where fury had been so close to consuming him. -He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.-

The small mercy didn’t make him less dangerous. If anything, the knowledge sharpened everything- focus, hunger, the keen need to reclaim what was being kept from him. Eddie was alive, but still he felt so very, very cold.

Halls bled into routine: he moved through them the way someone moves through a house they’d once burned down and rebuilt- knowing every weak plank and hidden nail. Staff parted as he passed, some of them glancing furtive, guilty looks down at their shoes. The sight pleased him; the memory of their arrogance during his wipe had been a hot coal in his mouth all week. Now they remembered. Now they are the ones who are nothing. -Good.-

Between one blink and the next he was back on his floor, standing outside the kitchens. Another and he was back in his room, drinking a glass of blood and staring down at a tray of sandwiches. It was like someone else was in control. -He’s alive.- His absolute sweetheart of a boyfriend, is alive. At least… Brenner believed he was. He shook off the thought before it could settle.

Just as Steve thought he had a hold of himself, the observation room doors were sliding open in front of him with the hiss he’d learned to both hate and love, the stench of fear from those inside had him blinking back to himself.

Inside, the banks of monitors threw the room into a blue, humming twilight. Rows of feeds flickered- lobbies, labs, animal containment, the Pitt- tiny boxed windows of ordinary evil and controlled chaos. Steve walked to the main console and took a seat, logging in. His fingers moved with the kind of practiced impatience that comes from sleeping with plans for ages. Datastreams blinked as he cycled cameras, crawled through time stamps, paused, rewound.

A drop down menu took him deeper, the feed list thinning, then tightening around the lower levels. The Pitt’s camera popped into focus: the same domed, cavernous room, chain-links and rusted cages lining the walls, the center of the arena stained dark. There was movement there- shadows, the occasional twitch- kept him leaning forward. He spent a minute scanning every frame like a man scanning a crowd for a single face: empty cages, empty platforms, a single overturned chair off to the side, and multiple large stains. But no living form curled up in the dark. Nothing moved, just a truck of the low lights.

Anger rose, raw and stupid, but this time it wasn’t smoothed by strategy or thoughts of the future. “Goddamn it,” he muttered, barely more than a breath to the others in the room. Monitors flickered to other angles, other depths of the facility- empty isolation cells, empty surgical bays, storage rooms- each more sterile and more horrifying in its quiet. Nothing. Just pixelated corridors, looping innocuous camera pans, none of them giving him what his gut promised should be there.

Logs and timestamps became a map he tore through. He watched a hall’s movement captures, cross-referenced door access events. Someone had moved things; someone had moved bodies; patterns that could have been subterfuge or could have been incompetence lined up like broken teeth. The realization sat in his gut like lead and ice: they were hiding things from him. From him… They were hiding Eddie. -Of course they are.-

He wanted to growl. Slamming his fist into the screen would’ve felt nice, but wouldn’t have helped. The screens would still be empty. Instead he stood, the chair scraping back with a sound that made someone near the door start. The smell of fear mixed with old coffee and disinfectant, a tang that made his skin crawl. He left the place as he found it, the blue ghosts flickering back and forth while he walked out and took pleasure in the way people sucked breath in and shifted back, doors closed in the hall at the mention of his movement. They had become practiced at being small. He liked that too.

But there was nothing.

A slow, dry laugh escaped him as the words echoed in his skull. For a moment he let himself stand there, the lights lining his shoulders like a halo that didn’t belong. Steve forced himself to move, feet finding a path he couldn’t recall ever walking. Storeroom, locker rows, back halls where the air smelled like rubber and old paper. -Find the sword. Find my sword and everything snaps right back into place.-

The one on his floor was a small thing, nothing important being stored this high up. A few research journals lost to time, a dagger he threw into the wall, but nothing exciting. Nothing he was looking for. Nothing even important enough for guards to stand watch. So he marched on, down several floors where it was oddly busy, reveling in the way people shark back from him. Not because he made an effort to scare them, he didn’t have to- simply because the memory of him, of what he’d done, had been grafted into the building itself. Satisfaction was a small, hot thing under his ribs. He liked the way they scurried off.

The next room was manned, a security desk with a clerk glancing up at him, then quickly looking away, fumbling for a logbook. Steve let his fingers trail over the personal lockers for items not permitted inside, staring at the man unblinking. “Where do you keep confiscated personal items?” The question came out casual; the underlying blade was not.

“M-Most items are c-catalogued in Room S-4 o-or s-sent to-” The man stuttered with fear, throat bobbing. The man’s name badge read: Hansferd. Pale, polite, shaking hands of a man who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I-I can pull a manifest.”

“Don’t bother with it.” Steve dragged his eyes from the name tag as he took a step forward, voice low and dangerous. “Point me to S-4.”

The man nodded quickly, pointing to the back left side. “S-Straight down, t-toward the left.” The man quickly scrambled for his keycard, a beep, and the storeroom's internal doors were hissing open.

Steve moved inside and took stock. Stacked crates pushed around, metal bins overflowing, a forklift humming idly nearby. It went on and on, further back than he remembers or maybe he’d just.. Forgotten. The lights here were different- dirty and orange- and the floor crunched beneath his feet as if he was walking on gravel instead of unclean concrete. He moved with a predator’s efficiency, shoulders tight, jaw clenched. -If it’s here, it’s mine. If it’s not… Kill whoever has it.-

He passed more lockers, this time with names, stickers, dates. Some crates were labeled with carefully typed tags; others with thrown together scrawled markings. Crate after crate. Row after row. Until a large clear door marked S-4 came into view. He slid it open, stale air having him wrinkle his nose in disgust.

More crates, more shelves, more lockers going further back than he cared to think. He started at the front, seeing as there looked to be no rhyme or reason to the labels in here. Crate after crate, Steve’s hands went through them- insistence, annoyance, huger- pulling at plastic wrapped shirts, old catalogs, a dented thermos. Nothing that even came close to what he was looking for. After an hour, frustration began to fray the edges of his calm. -Where the hell is it? Where is it?!-

A guard appeared at the far end, rigid in head to toe tactical gear. He didn’t stop forward; instead he raised a hand as if this were a scene he’d rather not be part of. “You can’t just-”

“You can point,” Steve cut him off, the man swallowing hand shaking. “Or move.” The man chose movement, nervous feet scuffing along concrete.

Steve looked up, noticing the thick tablet at the man’s hip, and ripped it off. He tapped forcefully on it, browsed file after file until; his lips formed a wordless apology at the thought he had of going back and killing the man at the desk for lying. It was here, moved recently. “Inventory shows item logged- Transferred to Holding, Level B, Section fifteen.”

Confirmation felt like a puzzle piece snapping into place. The pressure that had been simmering in his chest flared- hot and sharp. He grabbed the man’s shoulder, hard enough to bruise. “You been ordered to escort me?” It was growled as his fangs itched fiercely at his gums.

“No- No, sir.” The voice trembled. “We- security can-” The sentence broke into static as fear crested like a wave over the room.

“No escort.” Steve released the man with a rough pat to his shoulder, shoving the tablet into his chest. “Good.” He already knew he didn’t want someone hovering, watching his hands. He just wanted the sword in his palm and the world to be simpler again. “Oh Steeevie.” -No.- He bit back the urge to suck in a breath.

He walked back through the rows and rows of shelves. The distance just to cross open storage to the stairs felt longer than it should- each step stretching, dragging, warped. Every row looked the same: metal shelves, wooden crates, one or two metal lockers scattered throughout. Yet the deeper he went, the colder the air grew, the tighter the walls seemed to press in. Staff scurried out of his way as if repelled by gravity itself. He didn’t look at them, didn’t blink, just marched up to the next level.

The double doors of Holding slid open with a soft hiss, the sound almost welcoming. -Just gotta find section fifteen.- He walked slowly, looking between the rows. “Sssteeeeve.” The singsong voice slipped through him like cold water, too familiar, too mocking. His steps didn’t falter.

Section fifteen sat near the back, unremarkable in its neatness. Just rows of lockers and crates, the same bland serial codes stamped in black.

“Sweetheart.” The voice was firm now, low, commanding. It had him freezing, slowly lifting his head from the crate he’d been rummaging through- just extra uniforms, nothing interesting- and then he saw him.

Eddie.

He wanted to cry, to scream, to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Because for one dizzying, impossible second, it was Eddie. Standing there like he’d just stepped out of a dream. Same wild hair, same lazy posture, arms folded over his chest like he owned the space. His eyes were dark and steady, cutting straight through Steve’s defenses.

Except.. Except it wasn’t him. Not really. It was just like before. Too still. Too sharp. Too clean.

‘Eddie’ raised a brow. “Come on,” he tilted his head toward the next row.

Steve followed without question even though every instinct screamed to run, to reach, to hold on, but his legs just carried him forward. They stopped in front of a large crate labeled V-32. His brows furrowed- something about that sounded.. Familiar. Why did it sound familiar? Shaking off the feeling he looked up to see Eddie leaning casually against the shelf, smirk curling his lips. “It’s in there, sweetheart.”

-How does he know that?- Steve didn’t respond, just set his hands against the crates edge and pried the lid open and off.

And immediately he was punched with the warm, earthy, metallic scent of home. Of Eddie. His chest felt too tight as he reached in, hands trembling, and pulled out the very first item folded neatly on top. It was.. His thumb traced over the cracked white print across the front. Hellfire Club. His breath caught, as he bit back a whine, pressing it to his chest like a lifeline. But slowly he lifted it to his face, inhaling deep until his lungs burned. -Eddie.- He could smell familiar conditioner, cheap cologne, everything tangled up in the fabric stabbing through him like a knife made of memory.

A whine escaped now, a soft, choked sound that turned into something between a sob and a laugh. He had to close his eyes at the surge of emotions running through him, the cold stabbing at his chest now.

For a second, he let his senses stretch out, searching for any hum of cameras, any scent of watching eyes… Nothing. Just him.

Just him- and Eddie.

He turned, eyes shining with tears he refused to shed. “Are-” he whispered, too low for human ears. “Are you.. Are you really here?”

Eddie huffed, a rough sound through his nose, head tilting with a smile. “I think you already know where I am.”

-Like.. A cat.- Steve swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “You’re… Are you dead?” He forced the question out, hands curling tight around the sweatshirt to resist the urge to reach out.

The smile widened, but didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, Stevie..” Eddie murmured, stepping closer. “No.”

Relief came in jagged and wild- breath leaving in a shudder, chest feeling like it was caving in. Eddie took another step, and another, until their chests were nearly touching.

Then the hand reached up.

Cold.

So cold it burned.

It landed softly against Steve’s cheek, the chill biting through skin to bone. But he didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not from Eddie, not ever. Even when the pain made his eyes sting, even when it felt like frost was crawling down his jaw.

Then Eddie smiled- and there was nothing kind in it. Teeth too white, edges too sharp. -No. No, this isn’t.. This isn’t him. Not my Eddie.- The thing that looked like Eddie let his hand slide down his face, fingers trailing fire across frozen nerves, then down to his chest- where it jabbed. Hard.

“You know exactly where I am.” NotEddie hissed, voice warping, reverberating deep through his skull.

The next jab came sharper, bruising. “And you-” another right in the middle of his chest. “-know exactly-” Another, harder still, pain blooming beneath his ribs. “-what they’re doing to me.” The last word cracked the air like lightning. “Deep down you know, and you’re still letting them do it.”

“What? Eddie- stop-” Steve stammered, flinching but refusing to step back. “No, I don’t- I don’t know what they’re doing to you or where you are, I swear.” He caught NotEddie’s face gently between his palms. It seared him, the skin of his hands screaming from the contact, but he didn’t care. He held tight, trembling, desperate. “I’m not gonna let them keep you from me,” he breathed, shaking his head. “You’ll be okay, baby. I promise, I’ll make sure of it. We’ll- We’ll be together soon. Then we’ll make them pay. Whoever touches you, I’ll make them scream.”

His thumbs ran gently over the other’s cheeks, pretending they didn’t feel like melting glass. “You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered, voice breaking. For a long second, NotEddie just looked at him. Then, softer- almost real- he leaned forward until their foreheads pressed together. The contact made Steve whine, in pain or longing he isn’t sure, skin crackling like it might blister.

“I believe you, sweetheart.” The voice gentled again, almost loving. “I didn’t mean to get mad. Just got a little upset, is all. How ‘bout you get what you came for so we can go.” NotEddie tilted his head back toward the crate.

With a deep sigh Steve slowly pulled back, the pain in his chest dulling to a throb, like a bruise, but the cold receded. He blinked the blur out of his vision, slow and shaky, and looked back into the crate. Then to Edd- he was gone. It… Why did he feel so disappointed? It was just a hallucination anyway. With a pout Steve carefully put the sweatshirt over his shoulder, taking in a subtle breath. -Eddie.- He turned back to the crate and dug through the rest carefully- found a hunting knife that he pocketed, flipped through an old paperback, and subtly slipped a familiar bracelet into his pocket.

Then, finally- wrapped in tissue pressed against the side of the crate was his sword. His fingers trembled as he lifted it, eyes darting over every familiar mark, every tiny imperfection. No new nicks. No damage. His reflection gleamed in the polished metal for a second, eyes too bright.

“Perfect.” He slid it back into its sheath and tired it around his waist, letting the weight settle low on his hip. It was a small comfort- very small.

Then he went to close the crate- and froze again. For the second time that afternoon, the world tilted sideways.

A smaller box sat tucked toward the back, behind the things he refused to look at. Plain, dull, but the smell-

All too familiar. Cheap metal and Home.

He reached in slowly, hands trembling, and pulled it free. The contents rattled against the sides as he lifted the lid. Inside- carelessly thrown in as if they were worthless- lay rings. -Eddie’s rings.- The air left his lungs. His vision tunneled.

Steve didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. Just slipped them on one by one, sliding the cold metal down his fingers until they rested perfectly where they belonged. -Exactly as Eddie wears them.- He spread his fingers, studying them. The fit wasn’t exact, the shapes strange against his skin- but it still looked right.

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. Not joy, not relief, but something darker. -Mine.- The word pulsed with heat behind his eyes. -He’s mine.- He flexed his fingers letting the metal press into his skin, cold and cruel. And for a heartbeat, he swore he could feel Eddie’s pulse there.

He held his breath and whispered to no one, “I’m coming for you.”

And the rings- his rings for now- felt like they answered back.

---

He made quick work to get back to his room, strides long and sharp, the echo of his steps swallowing the noise of the lab. He didn’t stop for anyone- not the guards that straightened painfully as he passed, not the scientists who ducked their heads and tried to vanish into the walls. Their fear followed him like perfume, clinging to the air long after he moved through it. He didn’t care. Not now. He had what he came for.

He slipped into his room like a living shadow, the door locking behind him with a soft, final click. Everything hit all at once. The low hum of the ventilation, the faint sterile scent that always seemed to be in the room no matter what he did, it cut with the heavy, real scent of the sweatshirt over his shoulder.

Steve removed the sword from his hip with careful hands, almost reverent, and leaned it against the bookshelf. The dagger and bracelet followed, slipping neatly under his pillow beside the sketchbook. He’d draw later, maybe- Eddie’s face from today, the way his curls faced his cheeks, the lines of that smile. But for now-

The sweatshirt.

Folding it with meticulous care, smoothing the edges like it was something precious, something fragile, he laid it over his pillow, gentle as if afraid it might turn to dust. The fabric looked small there in the middle of the valley of pillows, soft and worn, familiar in all the ways this place no longer felt.

He stopped then, catching sight of his hands. The rings glinted under the soft light, each one sitting heavy against his skin. Eddie’s rings. A soft smile spread across his lips, tender and shaky. -This bed’s bigger than the ones in the bunker- he thought, tracing the edge of a ring with his thumb. -You could stretch out here in that way you like. Flop around, complain about how fucking soft it is. Your words, not mine.-

A soft laugh escaped, the sound small and cracked, and then he dropped backward onto the mattress. It gave under him, swallowing him whole. One arm sprawled over the sheets, the other hovering above his face. He turned his hand in the low light, admiring the way the metal gleamed. The silver looked beautiful, heavy, real. -You’ll be okay- the words felt more confident this time. -I’ll make sure of it.-

Bringing his hand down, he pressed the thumb ring to his lips. The kiss was soft, lingering- a promise whispered into metal.

-We can hide away in the meadow, just like in my dream.- The thought made his chest tighten. He could almost see it when he closed his eyes- the way the grass flowed with the wind, the sunlight framing Eddie like a halo, the sound of their laughter. The way Eddie’s hand slipped into his without hesitation. Warm. Solid. There.

Steve shifted higher on the bed, pulling himself up until his head rested against the pillow next to the sweatshirt. Instinctively he turned toward it, like a moth drawn to light. -We can stay there until the end of time. Just you and I.- He drew in a long, slow breath through his nose. The air was filling with the scent of Home, of Eddie’s cologne, of something earthy. It was almost unbearable- how real it felt, how close he could get without actually touching him. His chest ached with it, it spread until it felt like his entire body was a hollow nothing carved by want.

Another breath. Another.

The smell of Eddie grew stronger in his mind. Wood and soap and sweat and metal, all of it tangling together into something him. Steve’s eyes fluttered shut, lashes brushing the fabric as he leaned closer. “I miss you,” he whispered to the cotton, barely audible. The words trembled, “God, I miss you.”

He curled onto his side, one hand coming up to rest on the sweatshirt, the other over his chest, thumb pressing into the ring on his index finger. It hurt, but the pain was good- it reminded him he was still here, that he could still feel, that there was something left worth fighting for. His breathing slowed as the room darkened at the edges, sound fading away until it was just the barely there beat of his heart and the whisper of fabric beneath his fingers.

-Just you and I.-

He imagined the weight of Eddie beside him- the warmth of him, the press of their legs together, the soft hum of his voice when he was half-asleep and mumbling nonsense into Steve’s shoulder. He imagined reaching out and finding him there, solid, real, alive.

For a moment, with the familiar scents wrapping around him, it almost felt true.

He let out a long, shuddering breath. His lips found the ring again, another kiss, another vow. “Soon.” The word floated into the quiet like smoke, disappearing as soon as it left him. Steve stayed like that for a long while, unmoving, surrounded by the scent of Eddie. His heart beat slowed as the silence pressed in like an embrace now. But his eyes stayed open, fixed on nothing.

If he stayed still enough, if he breathed carefully enough, he could almost believe Eddie was just in the next room. That if he reached out far enough- if he waited long enough- he could pull him back.

And until that moment came, he would keep breathing in the ghost of him. Keep whispering promises into metal. Keep the ache alive, because it was all he had left.

---

A slow, pinched inhale pulled him back. Eyes opening to the bookshelf not far beside him, the room pivoting back into focus. For a second the world fell away- there was only the sweatshirt folded warm under his cheek and the hollow ache that lives behind his ribs. A ring-clad hand rose on its own fingers finding the soft cotton as he rubbed his cheek onto it. Steve breathed in, long and desperate, a whine escaping as the fabric carried that impossible, familiar scent.

Slowly he sat up, running a rough hand through his hair. Two in the afternoon, the clock told him when he finally dragged his eyes up still blinking sleep away. Time felt wrong. Dreams and reality braided until he couldn’t tell which was which. A laugh, thin and stunned, more breath than sound, escaped him. -I hope you’ll forgive me. Everything I’ve done, was for us to be together.-

He stood up reluctantly, not wanting to get far from the scent. Slowly he brought his hands above him, stretching until his back popped. Then he moved to his desk, pulling out the bottom drawer until a phone was revealed. With a long sigh he pressed the first button, letting it call the only saved number, before bringing the receiver to his ear.

A voice answered, and he felt the room tighten around the sound, Brenner’s measured cadence echoing through his skull. “Hello?”

He bit back the growl he could feel rising, letting out a low sigh instead. “It’s me,” it came rough, a forced, practiced calm.

“Ah, Steven! You never call.. What can I do for you?”

A low hum left him with the roll of his eyes. “I’m just checking I won’t get shot down in the halls… I gave it time.”

Brenner’s reply was almost pleased. “An announcement has been made. Should I ready body disposal?”

A grin tugged at his lips, sharp and small. “I’ll make it easier for ‘em if I’m feeling nice. But don’t count on it.” He looked down at his nails, before focusing on the rings again. “I’m going hunting, so I won’t be joining you this evening.”

“Well then, I look forward to hearing about it tomorrow.” Brenner did sound pleased now, and he hated the way his mind remembered what that smelt like.

Conversation drifted on and around them- Brenner’s polite prods, the faint clack of keys through the line- but Steve’s attention fell inward, on the bright circles of silver, on memories pressed into metal. -They shine as bright as he does.- When the call ended he didn’t notice until the line went dead; the quiet felt almost malevolent.

Steve put the phone back into the drawer and padded over to the wardrobe as if crossing through water, feeling slow and heavy as he pulled the doors open. Fingers skimmed soft fabrics until he settled on black- the same plain outfit Eddie had worn in the hallucination. He changed slowly, in no rush to get anywhere. -Not like they’ll escape me.- Rings flashed as he moved, a private constellatory light. -Should I take them off?- The thought came and he recoiled. Just the thought of removing them pulled at something that felt too much, like the last thread of himself, pulling tight. With a rough shake of his head, he buttoned his pants and pocketed his keys instead.

Stretching followed, just to force himself loose and relaxed. Sharp shoulder rolls, slow back bends. Each pop felt like setting something right. He mapped his plan in the same breathless way men picture battles: small, immediate victories. -Who to start with? A scientist? One of the guards? Ooh maybe someone random just because!- A list of names flickered and died. What mattered was the first strike, what would send them running. “Hmm.” His hands found his lower back as he leaned into it, groaning as it popped. -I want to taste their fear.-

Running another rough hand through his hair, he smiled at the way the rings rubbed his scalp. -I think Ed’s ‘ill be okay if his rings get a little wet.- Closing his eyes, he took in another deep breath just to smell the lingering scent of familiar cologne. -Planning how is useless. I’ll see what I feel in the moment.-

With that thought he left the room, wanting to whine the moment he stepped out, already missing Eddie’s scent. In the distance boots echoed on concrete, voices spoke low and dim. -One foot in front of the other Harrington- he pushed away from his door- and let the hunt begin.

His bare feet were silent against the cold floor, tapping with a lazy rhythm, nothing frantic, nothing hurried. Just purpose soothing and sharpening him all the same. The hall smelled strongly of industrial cleaner- it stung sharply at his nose, like they’d just mopped- and someone’s coffee, just the usual sterile perfume of this place. Staff glanced up and away, lips tight, shoulders tense. A private grin crept over his face at the chorus of tiny movements: stifled coughs, the way a clipboard suddenly looked very interesting.. -Where to start? Where.. To.. Start.-

A beat of indecision- left, right, up, down- and then something wild and warm fizzled up. His grin widened until it looked crazed. Muscles loosened enough to give him a spring in his step; the air around him seemed to thin as people scrambled to move away. Technicians scattered like small animals from his shadow. One lab assistant walked into a wall just to get out of his way, eyes wide and wet. The sight made the grin sharpen. -I might enjoy this too much.-

Planless wandering could be mapped into purpose. He let the facility swallow him again, halls blurring into one another, until the controlled chaos of the lab felt like a stage set he’d learned by heart. A hum started at the base of his skull, a pressure behind his eyes; this was the sound that came before something snapped. Hands curled into fists inside his pocket. -Oh! I know!-

Stairs then. He headed for them with a jaunty, almost skip to his step, loving how the building rearranged itself around him to fit his moods. Passing a pair of patrols, he put on another smile, all teeth now, blunt with a dangerous calm. The man recoiled like he had thrown a hand grenade at their feet. Satisfaction thrummed under his ribs like a second heartbeat.

Three flights down. Here it smelt like motor oil and late-night repairs; light was thinner here, more honest. A guard halfway down the hall glanced up as Steve walked toward him and did the thing everyone else had learned to do: avoid his eyes. The man’s jaw worked; fear made him try to be physically small. Steve watched the way the man shrank and he enjoyed it. -Not today.- He hummed to himself. -Not yet.-

Then finally, a door he tended to ignore, sat exactly where he expected. His keycard slid in and out quickly, a welcoming beep and a green light letting him in. The room inside smelled of sweat and stale chips, of history and hierarchy. Only a handful of men clustered around; they froze when he stepped in, the conversations fizzling like a blown fuse. A radio fell from one of their hands, another man’s mouth opened then closed on nothing. He did usually try to avoid the guards ‘docking bay’ as he liked to refer to it, so seeing him here was a shock.

He looked at each one slowly, making them feel the attention like a physical thing. -Look at me. Look at me. Don’t pretend you don’t recognize what I am.- His thoughts practically sung as his smile stayed wide, the whites of his still blunt teeth flashing. Not a single one met his eyes. That, for him, was the best part- the purposeful avoidance, the thought that perhaps if they didn’t look, it would all be easier. They, of course, were wrong.

A man sitting alone at the large desk against the wall caught his eye -ah, the boss-. A man in a scuffed chair, posture limp with the kind of fear that made you small enough to fit under a shoe. Steve walked across the room like a shadow gliding over the floor. The boss’s gaze slid to the ground and stayed there; a trembling thumb toyed with the hem of his badge. Someone had to be the coward in the room; the man had volunteered.

Up close, the smell of too much cheap cologne and laundry detergent hit him. He leaned forward, bending at the waist until he was inches from the man’s face, the smile softening into condescension. For a moment, only the low flicker of the lights and the rattle of someone’s coffee mug broke the silence.

“Is a guard named..” He hummed for a second, trying to remember. “Ah! A guard named Byron working today?” The question left his mouth like honey poured over a blade.

Panic stuttered through the man’s answer. “I-I can’t just, I mean- I don’t-” Words dissolved into noise as Steve’s hand clamped over his chin, fingers pressing into his cheeks. Bone shifted under the grip and a jerk snapped the man’s head up until his eyes were forced to look into Steve’s. The contact was intimate, humiliating, a private violation that made everyone else in the room flinch away.

One more time, lower, sweeter, and much more dangerous. “I’m gonna ask one more time, and you’re going to answer me. Understand?” His voice was honey sweet now- the kind of tone that made promises feel like threats and threats sound like promises.

A jerky nod came, the boss swallowing like a man choking. The way he could feel it under his fingers was a delicious, obscene thing. “Y-Yes s-sir.” The reply came thin and wet.

He let go, straightening with a soft, satisfied sound that might have been a purr. A paternal but patronizing tap to the man’s bowed head- “See? Was that so hard?”- made the man flinch as if the gesture stung. With a careless pat he treated the man like you might a well behaved dog. “Now… Where is he?”

A chair scraped, clacks of keys followed. The man’s hands fumbled across a keyboard as a schedule bloomed on the monitor. “H-He should be… F-Four floors down. S-Sir.” The man’s voice broke on the last syllable.

Steve rolled his eyes with theatrical boredom and reached out to pat the man’s cheek again, the skin wobbling under his touch. “Good boy.” The phrase was small and poisonous. Around him, the others stared while trying not to look at him directly, their faces a mask of white, knuckles bone-bright where the gripped armrests and coffee mugs.

A scan of the room showed only a handful of men- barely enough to be a problem. He liked it. Liked the way the small cluster shrank to nothing when the threat was focused on them. One careless word and their days- lives- could turn to very specific, sharp ends. He studied their faces, let his presence etch itself into their bodies like a brand as he soaked up their fear.

It was like they stopped breathing as his tone slid out cold and low, smile vanishing. “If any of you say a word about me looking for him-...” The air shifted as he looked over each of them. “I’ll come back and rip your spines out… Through your throats.” He articulated the threat slowly, carefully.

Silence held like glass. A radio hissing static had them all jumping, and Steve turned, to motion precise, and left the room. A hum came small and pleasurable as he walked down the hall. The sound of chairs scraping behind him had him wanting to laugh. Humming under his breath again, but this time it was light, content, as he headed for the stairs with the easy step of a predator all too familiar with its prey.

He descended the stairs slowly, no need to send them running. Four flights down and then he padded out across the floor, calves loose, shoulders free. Each passing guard’s expression told the same story: fear peppered with the smallest thread of awe. He fed off it in the way a plant would sunlight. -Gonna get ‘chu. Gonna gonna get ‘chu.-

Hallways blurred into one another until the map in his head hummed like a tine. He’d find the man’s post soon, and when he did… Well.. He hasn’t decided yet. He moved with a calm that felt almost mischievous, stepping into the shadow of the concrete and letting the building’s familiar angles funnel the fear into something sharp and satisfying.

His energy was coiled tight under the surface, smile almost charming again, the kind that could fool someone who didn’t know better. But his eyes were wrong. Too bright, too alive. He nearly skipped past two guards standing at a junction, both of them stiff as statues, eyes tracking him in synchronized panic. Their hands hovered near their rifles, fingers white on the grips, but they didn’t dare raise them.

Rounding a corner, he finally saw his target. -And would you look at that.. No other patrols around. Actually… This floors pretty empty.- Byron stood by the main elevator, posture a brittle imitation of composure. -Just as I remember.- Next to him was another guard, young, nervous- with the kind of fear-sweat smell that would’ve made Steve laugh if he weren’t so focused. He practically skipped the last few steps, the movement light, bouncy, wrong for the tension that permeated the air. The sound of his socked feet tapping the floor had both men jolting. The other guard- tall, freckled, maybe new- went visibly pale, Adam’s apple jerking. Byron’s hand twitched on his weapon out of nerves.

“Byron,” Steve purred, tone almost sing-song as he came to a stop just a little too close, close enough that the man’s breath hitched. Steve’s smile widened and he glanced just once at the other guard- a silent warning that made the poor kid straighten up so fast his spine popped- then turned his attention back to his target. “Do you remember working on the lower floors?”

The question was gentle, conversational- but there was something under it, a kind of low hum that made the skin crawl. The man’s mouth opened, a faint shake of his head starting, but Steve didn’t let him speak.

His voice dropped lower, and his smile twitched, faltering for the smallest fraction of a second. “You came into a room with me and Edward.” -Eddie.- The name came out on a shaky breath- equal parts reverence and aching- before he straightened again, the mask snapping back into place, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes.

“You put your hands on him.”

Steve’s hand rose- slow, purposeful, almost tenderly- and came down hard on the man’s shoulder. Byron flinched under the weight- not because it was a pat, but because it wasn’t. It was pressure, ownership, control. It would leave a mark. He smelled of sweat and fear, and Steve could feel his pulse beating wildly beneath the fabric of his uniform, fast and terrified.

“You threw him onto his knees.” It wasn’t a question.

It was barely a push- no effort, not even a visible flex of muscle. Just a lazy press of his fingers, and Byron went down, knees slamming into the ground with a sharp crack that echoed around them. The younger guard jolted, flinching back, hand twitching on his gun but freezing halfway- self preservation overriding instinct.

Steve crouched, slow and graceful, until his eyes were level with Byron’s. The guard’s face was pale, sweat starting to bead at his hairline, lips trembling around some unspoken plea. The light caught Steve’s eyes, reflecting something too bright to name.

“You cuffed him, muzzled him,” he murmured almost fondly, voice dropping to a whisper like he was sharing a secret. “And then you dragged him out of the room.”

The man’s mouth opened, a desperate noise clawing its way up his throat as words started to form- an apology, an excuse, something he didn’t care about- but Steve didn’t let it happen. A single finger pressed against the man’s lips, gently shushing him like a child.

“Do you remember it?”

The question was soft, too soft. The man’s breath stuttered out of him, chest rising in a jerky motion. And after a long, stuttering pause, he gave the smallest, most pitiful nod.

Steve’s lips served into a slow smile, no teeth this time, but still just as dangerous. “Good.” The word came out on a slow exhale, a sound so soft it could’ve been mistaken for affection. He stood again, hand never leaving the man’s shoulder, and with surprising care hauled the man back up to his feet as well. His movements were precise, careful, almost tender as he brushed invisible dust from the man’s uniform, smoothing the fabric like a mother fixing a child’s collar. The touch should’ve been comforting, but it wasn’t, not with Steve doing it. It felt intimate in the wrong way- too steady, too deliberate, too slow- his smile never reaching his eyes.

“Good, good,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I’m glad you remember.”

For a moment, the man’s posture shifted- the tiniest exhale of relief, posture loosening by a hair, muscles in his jaw unclenching. He thought he was safe. He thought it was over. Maybe he thought that this strange, dangerous man would pat him on the back and walk away. But relief was a fragile, hopeful thing, and Steve saw it. He felt it. That pathetic, desperate hope curling in the air. Could see the way the man’s lungs dared to fill again, dared to believe he’d been spared.

It made his smile grow.

Eyes gleaming under the flickering lights, he met the man’s gaze head-on. “Because so do I.” His voice was sweet now- honey-thick and poison-slick. “And I made a promise.” His head tilted, still smiling, but his eyes were glassy, far away, the focus fading in and out like he was seeing someone else through Byron’s face. “Well,” he went on, conversational, “he doesn’t really know about the promise.. But I still made it.”

The word promise left his lips like something scared, something dangerous- almost a hiss- as his hand tightened on the man’s shoulder until bone shifted under his grip. Byron’s jaw clenched, a strangled noise escaping his throat as his shoulder creaked under the pressure, threatening to give. The man’s knees wobbled as Steve’s thumb slid up along his collarbone, pressing down just enough that the other guard audibly gasped.

“This can go one of two ways,” he murmured, leaning in close enough to brush the man’s ear with his lips. “Either you can be a good boy..” he whispered, the words drawn out like a lover’s tease, “..Or. I can be very, very mean.”

The man’s knees shook again and he felt like salt mixed with fear now as his eyes darted wildly toward his partner, who stood frozen, trying not to even breathe too loudly. “What would you prefer?” Steve asked after a too long pause.

“W-What do you w-want me to-”

“Shh.” His thumb traced a small, absentminded circle on the man’s collarbone before gripping again, sudden, sharp. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Byron whimpered, the sound humiliating in its helplessness. Finally, his voice broke. “I-I’ll b-be go-good.”

And just like that, the tension snapped. Steve’s grin bloomed back into something radiant- too bright, too innocent as if he were actually pleased. He released the man’s shoulder, giving a light, affectionate pat on the same bruised spot as if they’d just had a friendly chat.

“Oh, good!” He chirped, tone light and delighted. “That’s all I needed to hear.” The abrupt loss of pressure made the man stager, swaying like a puppet on cut strings.

Steve stepped back, tilting his head, eyes drifting up and down Byron’s trembling frame. The smile softened, and for a fleeting second, his expression faltered- something raw flicking there, something lonely. He could still see Eddie’s face every time he closed his eyes- wide eyed, frightened, chained to that floor- the memory so vivid it pulsed through his worst nightmares. He wanted Eddie here, wanted to show him what he’d done, what he’d become- for him. The ache twisted in his chest until he couldn’t tell if it was grief or hunger.

He took another step back, the manic brightness snapping back into place like a flipped switch. “There, see?” he said cheerfully. “We can get along just fine.” He took a half-step back, still smiling, eyes roaming the man’s face with a predator’s fascination. His hands twitched once- like he wanted to touch again, maybe to test how fragile that bone had really become- but he didn’t. Not yet.

Steve’s grin suddenly split wider, eyes catching the light in a way that made them shine like polished glass- flat, bright, unblinking. For a slow, calm breath, the hall seemed to be holding itself still; the fluorescent hum seemed to stop, as if the building itself were leaning in to watch. He closed the distance with a deliberate, lazy step, each motion practiced to unnerve. His voice dropped back into a low, syrupy drawl, the kind that had men shivering, dripping with faux sweetness that could feel both comforting and utterly wrong.

“Byron you silly, silly thing.” Steve cooed, as if the man were a pet. A strand of hair slipped across his forehead as his head tilted, as he let it rest there, the gesture both casual and painfully polished. He knew exactly how he looked- sharp jaw, full lips curved with an engineered calm, skin almost luminous in the cold lab lights. He knew the effect it had on people, and he wielded it like a blade. “You didn’t think I’d let it slide that easily, did you? I mean.. Look at you. All shaky and sorry. It’s almost cute.”

His tone was teasing, playful, like he was flirting over drinks in a crowded bar instead of looming over a trembling man in a cold, unforgiving lab. He let his gaze drag down the man’s face, zeroing in on the sweat-slicked brow, the way his lips quivered, the way his breath was coming quick and paper-thin. He savored the effect, a private grin tightening at the corner of his mouth.

Then, with a languid grace, a ring-clad hand rose in a faux-tender motion. He kept it slow, teasing, as he ran his fingers through Byron’s hair with feigned gentleness, the contact sending a real shiver through the man. The cold metal grazed the man’s scalp as his fingers lingered for a breath, the gesture almost kind, like a parent smoothing out a child’s hair.

Then, without warning, his grip turned cruel. Fingers closed, nails pressed to skin, and Steve jerked the man’s head back with a sharp tug, forcing their eyes to meet. Neck arched, the man’s throat flexed under the strain as Steve’s face hovered just inches away, his breath coming warm against the man’s neck, eyes burning with something unreadable- something dangerous.

“Are you sorry you hurt Edward? Really sorry?” The whispered question pressed against the man’s ear, warm and intimate, but there was a venom threading through the sweetness.

Byron’s breath hitched, throat working as he struggled to form words. His eyes glistened, tears building at the corners, threatening to spill as the words tumbled out, ragged and small. “I-I’m ve-very s-sorry,” he stammered, voice breaking, thick with desperation. “I’m s-sorry I-I didn’t mean- I di-didn’t want to-” A single tear tracked down his cheek.

Steve’s smile sharpened as if laughing at a private joke. He released the man’s hair, letting his head snap forward, as he took a step backward. For a moment he looked almost boyish- hands clasped behind his back, a little bounce on his toes, the picture of excited innocence. “There we go,” he said, bright as a bell. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” The question came bright, as if they’d just settled a minor disagreement over coffee.

But the air shifted and without bothering to even glance at the other guard, Steve flicked his wrist lazily, almost bored. The effect was sudden and brutal, the younger guard slamming sideways into the wall with a dull thud, limbs being forced back and splayed unnaturally.The rifle fell out of the man’s hands, clatting to the ground and suddenly flinging away from them, it was accompanied by a gasp as the man’s fingers weakly flexed at the wall as if to try and escape, eyes darting between Steve and his partner.

None of it registered to him, Byron held all his attention- the way the man’s pupils whittled to fear, the small involuntary tremor at the corner of his mouth. Closer now, Steve’s smile widened again; fangs dropping down into view, catching the light. A predator’s promise, all teeth and no mercy.

His powers took hold of Byron then too- some tightened, controlled pressure that made his feet feel glued to the floor, made the air in his lungs protest. His partner thrashed and spat strained curses, but the force pinned him as efficiently as a hand across the throat. Byron couldn’t move; the world narrowing down to Steve’s face and the sound of his own heart banging against his ribs.

Steve leaned in, breath warm as his lips brushed against the guard’s ear, the contact light but sending an involuntary shudder through the man. His voice came in a low, intimate murmur, like honey, laced with arsenic. “Are you really sorry, Byron?” The words were whispered, letting the question hang heavy in the air. His lips grazed the shell of the man’s ear, lingering just long enough to make the other’s breath stutter. “Or are you just saying the words?”

The scent of fear, cheap coffee, and adrenaline washed into Steve’s nose, bright and intoxicating. He inhaled it like a benediction. “Because I can feel your heart racing. I can smell the fear rolling off you. And I’m wondering if you’re just saying what you think I wanna hear… Or if you mean it. Deep down. In that little, trembling soul of yours.”

He pulled back just enough so their eyes met, his own glinting with amusement as he studied the man like a cat toying with a cornered mouse. “Tell me again,” Steve urged, voice still soft, still sickeningly sweet, but with an undercurrent of threat that made the hairs on the man’s neck stand on end. “Tell me how sorry you are for putting your filthy hands on what’s mine. Make me believe it. Because I’ve got all the time in the world to play this game with you… And I’m very, very good at playing.”

Byron’s chest heaves, his breaths coming in shallow and ragged, tears now spilling freely down his cheeks in silent streaks. When his answer came, it was a raw thing, voice breaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I s-swear, I didn’t want to hurt him. I-I was just following orders. Please, I’m be-begging you, I’m sorry.” He sounded like a child learning to recite lines at the first sign of a belt.

Steve watched the confession patient, savoring. For a long moment he held the man’s gaze, letting the silence stretch until it was unbearable, until the man threatened to fall apart and that just wouldn’t do. Then, he stepped so close Byron could see the reflection of his own terrified face in Steve’s pupils.

“Good boy,” Steve murmured, the words syrup-sweet and poisonous. “That’s a start.” The way he said it could have been praise; it could have been a benediction. It was both, and neither. “But we’re not done yet. Not by a long shot.” Fingers came up slow, gentle as a caress, until Steve’s blunt fingers brushed Byron’s jaw. The motion was soft, intimate- disarming- then he tipped the man’s head to the side with a press of his finger to expose the frantic beat at his throat. Let’s see just how sorry you can be.”

He smiled as both men tensed, the one behind him finally falling quiet. His eyes gleamed with a manic brilliance, pupils blown wide in the light, the whites watching in a way that made them almost glow- something unhinged dancing within the too bright gaze. There was something electric beneath his skin, a hum of energy that had no outlet, like static crawling down his spine.

With a flick of his wrist- casual, lazy, no more effort than swatting a fly- Byron’s head snapped sideways, slamming into the wall. The sound that followed was grotesquely sharp, a brutal punctuation to the suffocating tension- the crack of a skull against concrete, the dull reverberation echoing down the hallway. He watched as the man slid down the wall, a pained weak groan escaping. And for a moment, the only sound was the faint, wet patter of blood dripping to the floor.

Steve tilted his head, watching the slow bloom of red with genuine fascination. Then he laughed- soft at first, then fuller, breaking free in a delighted giggle that didn’t belong in a place like this. It wasn’t the laugh of a monster reveling in violence; it was too human, too boyish- and that made it infinitely worse. He was like a child amused by a broken toy. Crouching down beside the dazed man, he moved with that easy fluid grace that made every motion feel almost rehearsed. His hand came to rest on Byron’s shoulder, the weight of it deceptively light, almost tender. Steve leaned in close enough that the man could smell him- the faint sweetness of his shampoo, the coppery tang of the blood he had at lunch.

“You see…” He began, voice dipping into a slow, syrup drawl, every syllable stretched out like he was savoring the taste of it. “I can’t really be lied to.”

His ring-clad fingers trailed up the man’s cheek with unsettling gentleness, the touch so soft it felt like a caress- until his thumb pressed against the split in the man’s temple. He traced the trickle of blood with a reverence that boarded on obscene, smearing it lazily down the man’s cheek. The metallic scent filled his senses, sharp and intoxicating and full of fear. Steve inhaled deeply, lashes fluttering for just a second. His grin widened, teeth flashing- a hint of fang beneath the curve of his lips.

“And you smelled sincere,” he went on, voice pitching higher now, lilting into mock sympathy, “riiiiiight up until you said you didn’t want to hurt him. That you were ‘just following orders’.” His tone softened to something almost pitying, a cruel imitation of comfort. “Oh, you silly boy. You almost had me.”

“Now-” Byron tried to speak- a broken sound, wet and weak- but Steve pressed a finger to his trembling lips, silencing him with a gentle “shhh.” His expression flickered- the sweetness fracturing for a heartbeat, showing something twitching and sharp beneath. “I know, I know.”

Then, without warning, he shoved a blood-slick finger into the man’s mouth. The gesture was abrupt, ugly- a jarring violation dressed in mock affection. He hooked it against the inside of the man’s cheek, rugging cruelly until his face twisted into a grotesque parody of a smile. Byron whimpered, eyes wide and wet, a choked whimper muffled by the digit escaped as his body held tense under the violation.

“I believe you,” Steve purred, leaning in again, their faces inches apart, eyes holding a dangerous delight. “You really are sorry.” His tone softened for half a beat- then darkened. “But..” He shoved a second finger into the man’s mouth, stretching them out to force that horrible grin even further. His own smile mirrored it- wide, bright, almost playful with too much teeth. But his eyes were burning. “You hurt what’s mine. My baby. Mine.” The last word came out in a low growl. “And I can’t just forgive you. No, no, no.. That just wouldn’t be very fair, would it?”

He tilted his head, the lock of hair falling into his eyes as he leaned closer still, the sharp scent of blood and fear drawing him in. His fingers twisted and pulled roughly in the man’s mouth. Drool and blood mingling, streaking Byron’s chin, and Steve laughed again- low and breathless, too close to joy.

He leaned over again, lips brushing the man’s ear again. “You said you’d be a good boy,” his voice dropped to something dark and velvet-smooth, a dangerous growl biting out. “So be a good boy.”

With a wet pop, he yanked his fingers free, wiping them idly on Byron’s cheek as if using a napkin, the gesture insultingly dismissive. Then, with a mock gasp of delight, Steve grabbed Byron by the collar and hauled him upright as though he weighed nothing. The man’s knees knuckled, body shaking from the blow to his head, but Steve held him upright.

“There we go!” he chirped brightly, voice spinning back into that manic, sing-song tone, as if they’d just been playing. “You can stand! Isn’t that nice? Look at us, making progress.” His other hand patted the man’s chest twice, light and mocking. “So proud.”

Then he shoved him. Hard.

Byron stumbled backwards, shoulder colliding with the wall with a grunt of pain as he caught himself, barely staying upright. Steve’s laughter rang down the hall- clear, almost musical. He clapped once, the sound echoing. “Oops! My bad! Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

Sauntering forward, he rolled his shoulders like a predator stretching before its next kill. He caught Byron’s wrist, twisting it behind his back until the joint popped, savoring the pained gasp that followed. “Shh,” he cooed, voice back to being syrupy-sweet, “don’t cry. It ruins your.. Pretty face… Though ‘pretty’ is subjective.” His thumb came up to brush away a tear- gently, almost lovingly- before smearing it across the man’s cheek with a crooked grin. He hooked his chin over the man’s shoulder, glancing up at him from his lashes.

“I’m being nice, aren’t I? I haven’t bit you. Haven’t broken anything.. important. Or snapped any bones. You should be thanking me really. Because I could be sooo much meaner.” His lips brushed the man’s jaw, a whisper of contact that sent a chill through Byron’s spine. “But I like playing with you. You’re just so.. So breakable.”

He slowly released the man’s wrist, running his fingers over it slowly. Then, quick as a snake, he spun the man and slammed him chest-first into the wall. The impact rattled through the floor, and Steve pinned him there with one arm pressing a little too much into his back. Byron’s cheek pressed into the cold surface, blood smearing down the grey paint as he gasped for breath.

“Look at that,” Steve breathed, glancing back toward the other guard still helplessly pinned to the wall, face pale and eyes wide with terror. “Your friend’s not even trying to help, not that he could.. Maybe he’s smarter than you.” A soft chuckle vibrated in his throat as he leaned in close, lips brushing Byron’s ear again, and nipped lightly- not enough to break skin, just enough to make him flinch forward head smacking the wall again. “Maybe he’s a good boy. Maybe he knows the rules.”

He stepped back abruptly, letting Byron slump slightly before catching him again by the arm, yanking him upright with an effortless tug. “Hey,” he chided lightly, tone bouncing between scolding and playful. “Don’t go limp on me now. We’re having so much fun.” He gave the man’s cheek a light slap- light for him, but a bruise was quickly forming. “Pay attention. There’s gonna be a test later.” He gripped the man’s chin, forcing him to look up. His eyes were wide, fever-bright, pupils like pinpricks. “Rule one,” Steve said softly, voice dropping into a whisper that somehow carried through the hall, “you don’t touch what’s mine.”

The grip on his jaw tightened. “Rule two- you don’t lie to me.”

And then, the smile again. Sweet and deadly. “Aaaand rule three..” His grip tightened, hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises behind. “You take what I give you, and you say thank you.”

He shoved Byron back against the wall again, this time letting him hit a little harder, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Though he didn’t want to break him just yet. Then he crouched again, balancing easily on the balls of his feet, head tilting as he studied the shaking, battered man with an almost fond expression.

“See?” he said softly, almost confiding. “I’m not so bad.” His hand came up again, brushing the sweat-soaked hair back from Byron’s forehead, fingers tender, almost apologetic. “I could tear you apart right now. Piece by piece. Feed you to the monsters down below. But I’m not. I’m giving you a chance to be good. Doesn’t that make me nice?”

Byron tears streaking down his face, lips quivering as a broken sob escaped him, nodded weakly too afraid to do anything else. And Steve’s grin softened- almost boyish again. “That’s right,” he patted the man’s cheek again, a little too hard, leaving a faint red mark from the rings behind. “See, my claws haven’t even come out. So you just keep being good, and maybe I’ll let you walk away with just a few bruises to remember me by.. Maybe.”

He straightened slowly, stretching his arms above his head with a languid roll of his shoulders, vertebrae cracking in a ripple down his spine. As if he hadn’t just manhandled a fully grown man like a ragdoll. And for a moment he looked almost ordinary- like a man waking from a nap rather than a predator. The motion was easy, almost theatrical, body moving with that feline looseness that always preceded something terrible.

His gaze flicked toward the other guard, still watching helplessly against the wall. Steve’s grin brightened, eyes sparkling with dangerous mirth. “Don’t you worry, freckles,” he called out, voice honeyed and cruelly playful. “I’ll get to you soon. Gotta share the love, right?” He threw in a wink, a quick dart of lashes and teeth that, in any other context, might have been charming. Here.. Well..

Turning back to Byron- who had slumped against the wall, chest heaving, sweat and blood streaking his face. Steve crouched for a second, just watching him. Then, with no warning, his hand shot out and fisted in the front of the man’s shirt, hauling him upright in a single motion. Their faces were inches apart, noses touching. Steve’s breath ghosted over Byron’s lips.

“Now,” he murmured, voice dropping into a low purr. “Let’s try this again.” The smile he gave was all teeth and madness. “Tell me how sorry you are. And this time…” His tone softened to a tasting coo. “Make it pretty.”

The man’s lips trembled. “I-I’m-” His voice cracked, swallowed by a pitiful sob, reaching up to cover Steve’s hand with his own. “I-I’m so s-sorry. I didn’t- I should’ve ha-have hurt him. I wo-won’t d-do it a-again. I s-swear. N-Never-”

“Shhh.” Steve’s thumb pressed against the man’s lips, silencing him. His eyes flicked over Byron’s face, studying the bruises forming there, the trembling of his chin, the glassy panic in his eyes. He drank it in like a fine wine. “God,” he murmured, almost to himself, “look at you. A masterpiece of regret.”

He tilted his head, examining the man as though seeing something exquisite in his suffering. Then his tone shifted, cracking like thunder under velvet. “No one,” he hissed, voice low, trembling with fury that felt barely contained. “No one is gonna touch my baby again. Not you. Not anyone in this godforsaken building.” He gave Byron a rough shake, the man’s head weakly lolling back and forth, a thin whine escaping his throat. Steve’s hands were trembling now, not from effort but from the electric current of his own mania, that near giddy excitement that danced just under his skin. “You hear me?”

The man whimpered, nodding frantically, eyes wide with terror. His grip tightened, knuckles whitening, the fabric of the man’s uniform shirt twisting under his fingers as he pulled Byron closer, nostrils flaring. “Mine,” he snarled. “You touched what’s mine, and now you gotta pay for it.”

He leaned in until his lips brushed the man’s throat, fangs gleaming in the fluorescent lights as he scraped them lightly along the delicate skin there. He didn’t bite- not yet, just teased. The sensation made the guard lock up, a strangled sound rising in his chest. Steve inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring as he took in the scents- fear, sweat, copper, despair. It was a drug, that sharp tang of panic, and his lips curled into a wicked smile against the man’s throat.

“Oh, that’s it,” he whispered against the man’s throat, almost growling. “God you reek of it, it’s divine. All that fear- it’s just so sweet. Makes me wanna keep you like this.. Forever.” He softened to a sing-song mockery. “Wouldn’t that be sweet?”

The man gave a choked sob, trying instinctively to pull away, but Steve’s grip was unyielding. He pulled back just enough to look into Byron’s wide, tear-filled eyes again. His own pupils blown wide, irises burning. There was laughter there, but it wasn’t joy- it was something frantic, something that belonged to a man teetering on the edge of reason. He didn’t bite. Didn’t even break skin even as the urge gnawed at him. But this wasn’t about that, wasn’t about blood. This was about control, about making a point. This was about Eddie.

The faint mechanical chime of the elevator cut through the silence, followed by the smooth hiss of doors parting.

Steve’s head turned slowly, neck rolling with a faint pop, eyes narrowing. Two guards stepped out- and froze mid-step, eyes wide, hands hovering uncertainly near their rifles. The scene before them was surreal: Byron hanging limply from Steve’s gasp, the other guard pinned like a crucifixion against the wall, and Steve himself, his fangs catching the light, face splitting alight with unholy glee at the sight of them.

“Well, well,” Steve drawled, tone flipping to mock cheer as he tilted his head to survey them. “Look who decided to join the party.” He shifted his grip on Byron, shaking him lightly as if he were showing off a prize. The limp man’s head lolled forward, a faint groan escaping. The newcomers hesitated, exchanging a look. Their hands twitched at their weapons but neither dared to move. Instead, they took a synchronized step back into the elevator, faces pale, their retreat almost comically quick.

Steve laughed- a bright, high pitched bark of sound that bounced off the walls, echoing down the hall. “Go on!” he called, waving one hand in an almost friendly gesture. “Get outta here, you crazy kids!” He mocked, grin stretching wider as the elevator doors began to close.

“Oh, and fellas-” His voice suddenly turned back to that sing-song sweetness, lilting upward. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone..” His expression didn’t change, but his voice dropped. “I’ll gut you both like fish!” It was delivered with a cheerful trill, as if he were wishing them well.

The elevator sealed with a neat ding.

Steve turned his attention back to Byron with the same manic grin still plastered back on his face. Then, without warning, he let go.

The man crumpled to the floor in a heap, the sound of his collapse almost delicate compared to the chaos that preceded it. His palms smacked weakly against the concrete, trying to catch himself, but his body gave out. Steve stood over him, hands on his hips, studying him like an artist considering his next brushstroke. Or.. A vampire.. considering his next attack.

“Hmm.” He studied the pathetic sight with an almost clinical curiosity, head tilting, frowning. “I thought I was holding back a little.” He knelt, tapping the man’s cheek lightly. “Guess I’m stronger than I remember.” He mumbled to himself.

He sighed, long and dramatic. “Look at you. All broken and sad.” The tone was dripping with mock pity, though the undercurrent of malice was unmistakable. “Bet you thought you were tough, huh? Thought you could put your hands on my Eddie and walk away?”

Without waiting for a response- the man was in no state to give a proper one anyway- Steve caught the man’s jaw and yanked his head up. Byron gasped, a strangled sound half-cough, half-cry. His grip was rough, digging harshly into already tender skin, forcing his mouth to open slightly at the pressure as he turned his head side to side, like a butcher appraising meat. “Not so tough now, are ya?” he taunted, low and teasing, tone dancing somewhere between cruelty and seduction- not because he wanted the man, no, his heart and hunger were Eddie’s alone- but because he enjoyed unnerving him, making him squirm under the weight of his gaze. “Bet you wish you’d never even looked at him, huh? Never said his name. Bet you wish you’d kept your filthy hands to yourself and stayed far, far away from what’s mine.”

Byron’s eyes fluttered, tears spilling freely now as pain and free clouded them, but Steve didn’t even give him the dignity of trying to form words. He slapped him- lightly, a taunting sting- and smirked when the man fliched.

“Don’t even try to talk. You’ve done enough of that with that sorry excuse of an apology. Now you get to listen.. And feel.”

He hauled the man to his feet again, the motion careless, rough enough that the shoulder joint popped out of place with a meaty crack. Byron screamed- a short, raw sound that cut off almost immediately into sobbing gasps. Steve grinned at the sound. “Aww, did that hurt? Sorry.” He gave the man a shove, sending him careening into the wall again. Blood smeared across the wall as Byron slid down, barely conscious. Steve caught him by the shoulder and slammed him back upright.

“Stay up,” he ordered lightly, voice full of mock encouragement. “We aren’t done yet. Gotta make sure this lesson sticks.”

Steve’s hand slid from the man’s shoulder to his chest, pressing flat right over the sternum, applying slow, deliberate pressure until the man’s ribs creaked. “You’re gonna remember this,” he whispered, leaning in close enough for his breath to ghost across the man’s lips. “Every time you close your eyes, you’ll see me. Every time you think about touching someone who isn’t yours, you’ll feel this.” He punctuated the last word with a sharp jab to the man’s ribs. The crack wasn’t a full break- but close. It got a weak moan of pain in response.

“Aww, come on now,” he snickered, studying the man’s pained expression with a twisted kind of satisfaction. “Don’t look so miserable,” he crooned, tone swinging up again. “I’m teaching you something valuable here. You should be thanking me. I mean, I gotta protect what’s mine, right? Make sure pigs like you know your place.” He tapped Byron’s cheek again, harder this time, the sound a sharp slap. “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood. You know, I could’ve torn your throat out by now. Could’a made a real mess.” His grin was bright and crooked. But nah, I want you to live with this. I want you to remember.”

He stepped back suddenly, letting the man sag against the wall, slumping into a trembling heap. Steve folded his arms, rocking on his heels as if appraising his handiwork. A thoughtful hum escaped him. “Tell you what,” he kept his voice bright, almost conversational, as if they were discussing the weather. “You keep being a good little toy, and I might let you crawl outta here in one piece. Maybe even let you keep all your fingers. How’s that sound?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just chuckled, the sound bubbling up and breaking free into wild laughter that rang down the empty hall.

With a deep breath, he leaned in, voice dropping to a sultry whisper that promised more pain. “Now.. Let’s see how much more you can take before you really start begging.”

His fangs flashed, eyes burning with a manic sort of hunger. A predator savoring the hunt. The tension around him felt alive, thick enough to choke on, vibrating with the energy of something wild barely held in check. He stepped closer, breath coming hot against Byron’s cheek as the man’s body shook uncontrollably, breath hitching in short panicked gasps, and then, Steve leaned in just a little bit more.

A sudden, sharp odor pierced the air. Byron, in a moment of pure, primal terror, pissed himself, the dark wet stain spreading across his pants, the acrid smell slapping into Steve.

Steve froze mid-motion, nostrils flaring as he recoiled suddenly, face twisting into a mask of disgust. His lips curled back into a sneer, fangs bared as he stared down at the pathetic heap of a man before him. “NO! Bad! Bad!” He snapped, voice sharp and furious, like he was scolding a disobedient dog. Without warning, he backhanded the man with a brutal force, the crack of flesh echoing through the silent hall. The blow sent Byron crashing to the floor face first, his head smacking into the concrete with a sickening thud, blood pooling beneath him as he let out a weak, pathetic groan. “You’re ruining it!” Steve snarled, anger flaring hot and wild, the edge of his voice sharpening into something almost feral. He stepped forward, drawing his foot back and delivering a vicious kick to the man’s stomach. It had him crying out, the sound raw and broken, body curling inward from the pain as the air was forced from his lungs. Steve’s lips twitched into a cruel grin, satisfaction glinting in his eyes at the sound of that pitiful cry. He kicked again, harder this time, the force sending the man rolling onto his abc with a grunt, hands scrambling weakly at the floor as he tried to drag himself backward, away from the monster towering over him.

“You’re ruining everything!” He bit out, lunging forward, yanking the man up by his uninjured arm with a savage jerk. The joint gave way with a sickening pop, the sound of it ripping from the socket reverberating through his skull. Byron screamed, a high, desperate wail of agony that only seemed to fuel Steve’s rage further. With a snap, he slammed the man into the wall, the impact rattling the metal panels of the elevator as Byron’s body slumped, held up only by Steve’s unyielding grip.

“Well.. Now you’ve gone and done it,” he spat, voice dripping with venom as he leaned in close, face inches from Byron’s who was barely conscious, pain etching deep lines into his bloodied body. “I was going to take my time, play with you, but ultimately let you go on your way since you were behaving. But now!” He shook the man roughly, a growl coming from deep in his chest. “Now you’ve been a bad toy! Makin’ me mad. Aaand now..” He didn’t finish, letting the threat hang heavy as he slammed the man into the wall again, harder this time, pinning him there with a firm splayed hand pressed tight to his chest, fingers digging into flesh with a bruising force. With his other hand, Steve yanked Byron’s head to the side, baring the man’s neck, the pale skin slick with sweat and streaked with stray blood.

Without hesitation, Steve sank his fangs into the man’s neck, a deep, guttural growl rumbling from his chest as he drank hungrily. The coppery tang flooded his mouth, warm and rich, feeding the feeling that’s been clawing up his throat. The man’s weak hand pawed at Steve’s chest, pushing uselessly, fingers clawing at his face in a pathetic attempt to fend him off. But Steve didn’t budge, didn’t even acknowledge the feeble resistance. His grin widened against the man’s neck as the hands grew weaker and weaker with each passing second, until they fell limp, no strength left to fight.

Steve drank in long pulls, a growl vibrating low in his chest as Byron’s heartbeat began to slow, each thud growing fainter, less erratic, until it was barely a whisper in his chest. Only then did Steve pull back, mouth smeared with blood, crimson rivulets dripping down his chin, joining the growing dark stain on the front of his shirt. His eyes gleamed with a savage satisfaction as looked at the near-lifeless man before him.

He released Byron suddenly, letting him smack back to the floor. The man’s knees hit concrete with a dull thud, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He crouched down, observing him with a tilted head, hair falling in messy strands around his cheeks. “You know,” he started, conversationally, as if nothing had happened, “I try so hard to be good. I really do. But people like you keep testing me.”

He sighed, exaggerated and dramatic, before grinning again. “And I’m terrible at tests.”

From behind him came a faint sound- movement maybe, from the other guard still pinned to the wall. Steve didn’t turn immediately. He let the silence stretch, drawing it taut until it almost hummed, then finally, turned his head, grin still plastered to his blood-streaked face. He looked every bit the monster the lab feared him to be.

“Still with us, freckles?” he asked brightly, as if just noticing him. His tone was light, playful even, but the air around him seemed to darken. “Don’t look so tense. You did great! Didn’t even squeak.” He winked, the gesture disturbingly genuine. “Gold star for you.”

He stood, stretching slowly, as if nothing about this was strange- as if his hands weren’t shaking faintly from the adrenaline still coursing through him. When he looked back down at Byron, sprawled weak and trembling, the madness in his eyes softened just slightly, replaced by something like satisfaction.

“See?” His voice dipped low, almost kind. “You made me so upset, I was going to kill you. But.. I think it’s much better if you’re alive to prove my point. So… It’ll hurt, but you’ll live.” He crouched again, voice dropping to a murmur. “And you’ll remember exactly who you belong to. Who he belongs to.”

He straightened, brushing off his hands like he was done with a chore, and glanced back to the other guard. The man was pale as a ghost, eyes wide with unadulterated terror. With a casual wave of his hand, the man was let go, dropping to his hands and knees as his legs gave out beneath him. The man was trembling, breath coming in short, panicked bursts, flinching as Steve moved closer, keeping his head down.

With almost feline movements Steve crouched in front of the guard whose name he couldn’t be bothered to learn. With gentle, almost tender touches, he reached out and tilted the guard’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. The man’s gaze was glassy with fear, pupils dilated as he stared into the bloodied face of a predator.

“Like I said, you’ve been a good boy.” Steve purred, voice soft now, a stark contrast to the blood he was covered in. “You’ve behaved this whooooole time. Hardly even tried to move.” He lifted the back of his hand, wiping at the blood around his mouth, smearing it further across his cheeks before giving the guard's face a gentle pat with the same blood-covered hand, leaving a crimson streak across his skin.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen next,” he continued, leaning in closer, smile showing too much fang as the scent of blood lingered on his breath. “You’re gonna stay at your post like a good boy, and call in medical to come pick dickhead up. He’s not gonna be able to tell them anything right now as-” Steve hummed softly, smile widening, “-he passed out thirty seconds ago. And medical isn’t gonna ask you anything. So.. When your shift’s over, you’re gonna go clock out and tell everyone about this, everyone.. Understand?”

The guard nodded rapidly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, fear etched into every line of his face. Steve’s smile widened, pleased by the obedience, by the stench of terror wafting off the man in thick, delicious waves. “Good boy,” he cooed, tone almost affectionate. “You’re gonna tell ‘em how I tried to be nice, how I just wanted asshat over there to know that no one, no one get to touch what’s mine, but he decided to be a nasty boy. Tell ‘em how I was bein’ real sweet and was even gonna let ‘im walk away with just a few bruises, but then he turned sour. Tell ‘em all if they’re real sweet and sorry, and behave real good, I’ll just play a little, but they’ll get to go home in time for dinner.”

He suddenly leaned in close, nose pressing into the other man’s as his bloodied grin hovered inches away. “But let ‘em know if they’re real bad, if they misheave on me, I’ll be real, real mean. Might decide their blood is sour and just gut ‘em where they stand. Got it?”

The guard nodded again, frantic, his trembling intensifying as he struggled to keep his composure under the piercing, unblinking stare. Steve’s smile softened, a pleased sigh escaping as he reveled in the fear before him. “Good boy,” he repeated, patting the man’s cheek again, gentle this time, leaving another smear of blood as a reminder. Then, with a sudden shift, he pushed himself to his feet, towering over the man once more.

“You tell ‘em I was on my best behavior. Because this-” He gestures to the ruin of a man behind him, sharp teeth on display. “-this is me being good. And they’d hate to see what happens when I’m not. So.. Let’s hope you stay a good boy and let them all know.” He let the threat hang in the air, staring down at the man.

Then, instead of walking away, he reached down and slid his fingers under the man’s chin again, gentle but forceful, pulling him to his feet. Steve leaned in, lips brushing the man’s ear as he whispered, voice almost a growl. “You come across my Eddie, do let me know. Because if I find out you know where he is and didn’t tell me, or you put your hands on him…” He pulled back slowly, staring directly into the man’s eyes. “I’ll kill you. Painfully. Slowly.” He leaned in just a little further, smile wide as the man tensed as to not flinch away. “Be a good boy for me. If they give you orders to be around him, or you just happen to stumble upon him. You find me. Understand?”

The man nodded rapidly and Steve gave him another gentle pat on the cheek. “Good. I’m glad we could sort this out.”

With that he turned, his blood-soaked body a stark contrast to the grey sterile hall. He waved a hand as he walked, fingers dancing as if greeting a friend. “Be good!” He called, steps light and bouncy, practically skipping down the hallway as if he hadn’t just torn a man down. The guard’s shaky breaths echoed behind him, a quiet soundtrack to the aftermath of his violence, as Steve disappeared around the corner, leaving terror and pain in his wake.

---

The water had been running for a long while now, but Steve didn’t notice it. Couldn’t hear the way it hissed against the tile, how it drowned out every noise of the lab. He’d come straight here, stripping down without a thought, throwing his blood soaked clothes.. Somewhere. And he stepped under the too hot spray like someone sleep walking.

Now, he was kneeling on the floor, tiles warm beneath his knees, heat rising around him in ghostly waves that fogged the mirror and clung to his skin. The water drenched his hair, flatted it against his forehead as he stared down at his ring-heavy fingers resting on his thighs, water beading down on his knuckles, running in tiny rivers down his wrists.

They were shaking.

There was some blood under his nails, not unusual- stubborn crescents that the water couldn’t quite erase- but the sight of it undid him. It was too red, too fresh, too real. His breath hitched once, sharp, and then again. He blinked, trying to fight it back, but the tears came anyway, blurring the lines of his hands until they were just shapes beneath the falling water.

Steve didn’t make a sound, not at first. It was just a few silent tears, shoulders tight and trembling as he tried to keep them in check. The water was pounding into his back like a punishment, too hot, but he didn’t dare move. He deserved the sting, didn’t he? Because- Because he couldn’t save- Because he couldn’t…

The first sob escaped without warning- small, raw, torn from somewhere deep in his chest. He slapped a wet hand over his mouth as if he could shove it back inside, but another followed, louder, more forceful. And then another. Within seconds he was shaking, both hands clamped tight over his mouth as he bent forward, the noise trapped against his palms. His breath came in ragged bursts; the air too thick, the steam too close.

And then, he broke.

Steve curled forward until his forehead pressed against the slick tile, body folding in on itself as his hands fell away. The sobs came in waves now, leaving him helpless and gasping. Every breath was a struggle between air and grief. He could taste salt and copper on his lips, and didn’t know if it was tears or the remnants of blood still clinging to his skin.

“Eddie.” The name tore out of him like a plea. He said it again, louder this time, “Eddie” and again “Eddie”, and again after that, until it was the only thing left in the room. The sound of it ricocheted off the walls, desperate and aching.

“Eddie, please… Please.”

Steve reached for something that wasn’t there- hands curling against empty air, fingers searching for a familiar warmth, for the weight of someone beside him. But no one and nothing answered. Just the sound of the water and the hollow echo of his voice.

There was an ache in his chest, the pain sharp enough to steal his breath. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, to tear away the cold that had taken root inside him the moment he woke up battered and broken. The moment Eddie was gone. He desperately missed the way the bond used to hum just behind his ribs, the quiet awareness in the back of his mind that let him know he wasn’t alone. Without it, there was only this pressing silence. And the cold.

“I need you,” he whispered, words barely audible through the hiss of the shower. “I can’t-” His voice broke, turning into another sob. Steve pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes, forcing them harder until stars sparked behind his lids. “I can’t do this without you. Not again.”

He sank lower, falling hard onto his side against the wet tiles. The heat from the water pooled around him, washing over his cold skin, but even still, it couldn’t touch the chill inside him. His body shook with the force of his crying, each breath stuttering and uneven.

The steam thickened until the air felt heavy, almost suffocating. But still, he didn’t move. Just stayed curled there, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped tight around himself as if he could hold together what was left of himself.

“I just need you back,” he whispered into the crook of his arm. The words were nearly lost under the rush of water. “Just come back to me… Please.”

The minutes stretched as the water continued to pour down around him, turning the floor into a shallow pool that rippled every time he shook. His sobs slowly faded into small, shaky breaths, throat raw, eyes swollen and burning. When his healing kicked in, he didn’t even complain, just laid there, broken.

And when he finally lifted his head, the mirror was an unbroken blue of condensation. No reflection. No proof that he was still here.

Steve closed his eyes again and let the water hit his face, trying to imagine that it was rain, that he was outside somewhere with Eddie- somewhere green, somewhere quiet, where they could breathe again. But the image kept flickering, breaking apart before it could form.

All that was left was the sound of the water and the echo of his own voice calling a name that didn’t answer.

Notes:

:( Steeeeve, you're breaking my heart.

Chapter 45: It's In Motion

Summary:

Is he.. What's going on?
Is this all just some elaborate hallucination?
Is he losing his mind?
Is there a plan?

Notes:

Sorry for the long delay.
I wrote the chapter, stared at it, edited it, hated it, erased the chapter, and rewrote it again.
But I have plans for this story, so many plans. :)

He stood in the center of the Pitt, a single, lone figure in a sea of torn bodies and steaming gore. Dozens- maybe more, he hadn't bothered counting- of demodogs and demogorgons lay scattered around him in broken heaps. Some were still twitching in their post-death spasms, limbs jerking randomly like faulty machines. The metallic stench of blood filled the air so heavily he could taste it on his tongue.

Steve wiped a smear of black-red ichor from his cheek with the back of his wrist and exhaled a long, almost annoyed breath. Not tired- he didn't really feel tired, not the way he used to. Not from this. But irritated? God, yes. He let his shoulders roll back, fists still clenched in case Brenner decided to be an ass and release another wave.

But the area stayed silent. Empty. No gates opening, no warnings, no growling. Just the soft drip of blood and guts on concrete.

"…Seriously?" He muttered to himself, too low for the cameras to hear. "Just gonna leave me standing here?"

He groaned to himself, it echoing through the quiet dome. When no threat emerged, he slowly allowed his fingers to uncurl with another sigh, shaking off the leftover adrenaline. His shoulders slumping as he tipped his head back, glaring up at the glowing eye of the camera perched near the top of the glass. "Are we done?" he called, the impatience dripping from every word. "Or do you want me to juggle the heads or something? Maybe try bowling?"

Brenner's voice crackled through the speakers, far too pleased with himself. "Yes, Steven, we're done for today. Wonderful work."

Steve rolled his eyes so hard he swore he heard something click. He waved a hand lazily in the air. "Mhm. Great. I'm gonna go hunt me some lunch or something. If you need me…" He paused, then lifted his hand again and lazily flipped off the camera. "Don't."

He heard Brenner's laugh- dry, self-satisfied, punchable- but he ignored it, stepping over a severed limb on his way to the exit- a hidden door that looked just like the rest of the wall. It slid open with a hydraulic hiss, and Steve stepped into the long, plain hallway. Everything was that same flat shade of government-issue grey- though the government would be amazed to find out about this place.- the walls, the floor, the outside of the lights glaring down on him with that too-white, too-clinical brightness.

God, he hated it here.
Hated the Pitt.
Hated their tests.
Hated being 'asked' to be around the monsters that haunted his nightmares.

He kicked at a stray fleck of dried demodog blood stuck to his boot -thankfully, I wore shoes today-. "Should start charging you assholes per kill," he muttered to himself. "Bet I'd be rich by the end of the week."

A week.
It had been a week of this.

The thought made the irritation in his chest twist and curdle into something heavier, something that pulled downward instead of sparking out. Steve rubbed at the back of his neck as he walked on, the hallway humming faintly with electricity, something he easily tuned out. They were back to testing his powers. All. Week. Dragging him into the Pitt, making him tear apart their oldest specimens, their prized monsters, their precious little abominations.

And yeah- he was one too, technically. Their favorite pet. Their sharpest weapon. Their golden boy. -Golden boy Harrington. King of… The lab? Demogorgons?-

But even weapons got polished, maintained, sharpened. He was just.. Being used until he either snapped or stopped caring about it.

And worse-

Still no word on Eddie. Just those same dismissive comments Brenner threw out like scraps:
"It's taking longer than expected."
"There have been complications."
"He's alive, Steven, it's simply complicated research. Now sit down and eat your dinner."

Research. Because to them, Eddie was just an object. A specimen. A chart somewhere.

Steve's jaw clicked painfully as he forced himself not to punch a hole in the wall. Again.

He slowed as he reached an intersection, hands slipping into the pockets of his blood-coated pants, the ankles weighed down with still-drying blood. He stared at the floor as he continued on, boots making soft thuds that echoed too loudly in the emptiness.

It clawed at him then- the quiet. The silence. The lack of someone beside him.

No familiar shuffle of boots.
No one leaning into his shoulder.
No fingers brushing his wrist as they walked too close.

Eddie would've joked about the gore on his shoes. Would've elbowed him and said something stupid like "Babe, you're bringing home more monster than meat at his point." -Or.. Or something like that.-

He swallowed heavily, staring straight ahead now, unseeing.

He'd gone and actually checked on his… Could he still call them friends? But not in person. Not just. Just through the cameras. It was.. He never really thought about how The Grey Room operated before. Just assumed it was like The Rainbow Room or the floor he'd been living on. Private closed off rooms, bare spaces, different rooms all over.

But apparently not.

They'd all been put into one large room that held about twenty beds- not that he actually counted, metal and bolted down. Every bed the same shade of muted concrete-grey. The room held a communal bathroom on the back wall, a large window built into the door so there was no privacy, and three shower stalls with paper-thin curtains that only closed on the sides. And it, of course, had cameras there too. Multiple. For every angle.

That made him snarl- actually snarl- at the screen, guards scrambling away from him. "Disgusting," he'd muttered. But that didn't even cover it. But it was, even for them. Even for the countless kids with numbers and shaved heads, abilities or no.

The sleeping area of the room exited into a gym- if you could call it that- ancient equipment bolted to the floor like someone feared the kids would throw the machines at each other -probably would'a, given when I've learned of this place-. Or at Brenner. Steve wouldn't have blamed them on his bad days. Maybe not his good either.

There were board games too. That surprised him. A single square table and four chairs, all bolted to the floor. He'd stared at the grainy feed for a while, watching Dustin and Wayne play a halfhearted game of chess. -Huh.- It was… Not what he expected really. They were fed three meals a day, kept together, and provided actual clothes- even if they were plain and grey- instead of those scratchy paper-thin hospital gowns he and Eddie had been forced into.

It looked… Manageable. Not good. Never good. But survivable. But he couldn't.. He wasn't able to… He hadn't been able to go in and actually see them, face to face. Not yet. He couldn't… Well. He could, he was allowed to, encouraged even. Brenner said it might "level him out, make him remember the why," whatever that meant. That seeing familiar faces would "stabilize him."

-As if I'm not perfectly stable.- He wasn't. Not without Eddie. But he just couldn't bring himself to even open the door to the floor they were on. Not once. All he could do was stare at the door from the stairwell, from two landings above. Because walking down there, walking in there without Eddie beside him…

It felt wrong. Empty. Like going home and finding all the furniture gone.

He couldn't do it. His feet just wouldn't move if he thought about it, and his chest got too tight.

He'd turned away from the monitors after only a few minutes of watching. Leaving before the feeling could swallow him whole. Now, walking alone down the endless hallway, that feeling washed over him again- heavy, cold, and low like thick mud pulling at his ankles. His breath hitched faintly.

Steve raked a hand through his hair, stopping in the middle of the hall as the weight of it all pressed in on him- another week of waiting, of killing things to keep from ripping apart the lab brick by brick.

He whispered aloud again, barely audible, "I just need him. Just a piece of him. A word. Anything." But the hall stayed silent. No answer, no Eddie. Just the flicker of overhead lights and the echo of his boots as he forced himself to keep walking, jaw tight, chest aching, irritation tangled in sadness until he couldn't tell which was heavier.

Brenner wanted him strong.
Focused.
Obedient.

And Steve hated him for it.

Hated him for keeping Eddie away.
Hated him for pretending everything was fine.
Hated him because every day that passed without Eddie felt another piece of himself turning colder and colder.

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kept moving, hating the quiet, hating the emptiness, hating the entire underground maze- and praying in some quiet part of his mind that tomorrow, or the next day, or the next…

Someone would finally tell him where Eddie was.

Or… Or bring him back. He'd take anything. A glimpse, a heartbeat, a scent. Just something to prove he hadn't imagined him.. Hadn't dreamt him… Hadn't lost him. Because he was starting to feel the edges of himself fray- again. And all he wanted- needed- craved- was Eddie.

He'd spent the day after the 'Byron incident'- as Brenner so neatly, so smugly dubbed it- drifting through the halls like a phantom with an attitude. He had no schedule, no destination, no leash. Just the building hum of terrified whispers that followed him like perfume. He reveled in it, soaked it up, let it cling to him. The fear spread floor to floor in strange mutated versions: He snapped Byron's arm; he ripped it jaw off; he made him eat his own badge. These people were so dramatic. But he didn't correct a single rumor; preferred their stories actually.

For hours, he'd sat in the observation room, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes glued and unblinking to the array of cameras. Watching. Waiting. Maybe for Eddie, maybe for something to break, maybe for nothing at all. The room had reeked of nervous sweat whenever someone came in, even for a second, even just to drop off paperwork. He pretended not to notice the way they avoided stepping within ten feet of him.

And then Brenner had a guard bring the box of things he'd ordered- new pencils, fresh sketchbooks, a few different things just to fiddle with, some of Eddie's favorite cologne to spray the sweatshirt with. -Aren't I just sad?- The poor bastard delivering it had practically been vibrating apart. He'd almost moaned at the stench of his fear after being locked in his room most of the day. And for fun- because why not? Because it was there? Because he was bored?- Steve let his fingers drag lazily across the back of the guard's trembling hands before taking the box. The man bolted so fast Steve heard his boots skidding on the concrete mid-turn.

The snicker he'd let out echoed in the near-empty hall, a mean and delighted sound that had a patrol turning back around before they could be seen.

The day after that, he went ‘hunting’. He relished the word, savoring the way it made those around him squirm. They hated it, which only fueled his need to hiss it through a fake smile every chance he got.

First, he tracked down another guard- a very specific one- the sorry bastard who’d spat on both Eddie and him. That one.. Oh, he played with him. But it was a gentle game, all things considered. He’d left the man alive, at least, though the way the guy whimpered on the floor afterward suggested maybe “alive” was generous. He cornered the man in a dimly lit hallway, pinning him to the wall with a flick of his wrist, claws extending just enough to graze the man’s trembling throat. “Remember me?” he’d growled, voice low, an almost unhinged rasp that echoed off the concrete.

Just for fun, he’d ping-ponged the man back and forth between the walls, throwing him forward down the hall before pulling him back like a yo-yo. Over and over again. Once he grew bored of that, he’d forced the man onto his hands and knees, plopping down onto the man’s back. “You see, I’m in need of a new chair. Might even pay you for your time.” He’d let out a laugh, falling off the man when he couldn’t stop. But eventually teasing him grew boring too. So Steve let him drop, a crumpled heap sobbing on the floor after a few well placed kicks, and walked away cackling under his breath. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start.

Then a lab tech crossed his path. Some nobody in a white coat who made the mistake of flinching when he saw Steve just.. Eating a bag of chips. The crunch of salt and grease was the only sound in the break room until the tech’s nervous twitch caught his eye. He just wanted the vending machine but nooo, that was too much to ask. But he didn’t even touch the guy. Didn’t need to. He just stood up, slow and deliberate, and casually walked toward him with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What’s wrong, doc? I bite?” he purred, leaning over at the waist until their noses nearly touched. The tech stumbled out of his hair, falling backward and scrambling away, hyperventilating against the wall, snot and tears streaking his face as Steve laughed- a jagged, manic sound that bounced around the room. Hilarious. Really.

And then, he hunted, setting his sights on a pair of scientists. Initially, it was just the woman- that nosy bitch who’d treated him like a lab rat, prodding him with needles and questions, her smug little smirk burning into his memory every time she’d cranked up the voltage on whatever torture device they’d strapped him to. She’d reveled in his pain, treating him like nothing more than a slab of meat. But when he found her, she wasn’t alone. Another scientist, some scrawny guy with glasses, was with her, scribbling notes like nothing was wrong. And honestly? That just seemed like a bonus, two for the price of one.

He’d only meant to scare them. Really. Truly. Hand-over-his-icy-heart. Just a little fun to give them something to whisper about over their shitty break room coffee. Maybe- maybe terrorize them- just a smidge. He started small, slinking around the shadows of their cluttered lab, feet silent on the tiles. He’d whispered from the wrong side of the room, voice a chilling murmur in their ears, “You think you’re safe?”. A little nudge of his powers sent chairs skidding back, and papers rustling as if blown by wind. The woman gasped, clutching her clipboard like it could save her. The man yelped, stumbling over his own feet in his haste to get back. Steve’s low chuckle reverberating through the air as he watched them scramble, panic souring their scents.

But then things… Escalated. The man tripped in his frantic retreat, head cracking against the corner of his desk with a sickening thud. Skull-splitting hard. Steve froze as the blood pooled out, a dark glossy invitation spreading across the floor- and something inside him just… Twisted. No, a better explanation would be something had snapped. It clawed up from the hollow pit where the bond used to be, where warmth used to be, and it sank its teeth in, and dragged every shred of restraint down with it. The cold in his bones flared, a ravenous ache that drowned out everything else.

He didn’t want to say he ‘blacked out’, that sounded too weak, too pathetic and spacy for him. But time blurred, slipping through his mind like water through cracked glass, and he genuinely couldn’t piece together the minutes that followed.

One second he was just standing there, staring at the growing pool of blood- head wounds always seemed worse than they were- the metallic tang already teasing his senses. And the next… The next he was slumped against the wall, chest heaving with unnecessary breaths, tongue dragging slow licks across his blood-slicked fingers. He could still remember the heavy taste and the warm feeling that clung to the back of his throat.

The man’s body was a grotesque tableau- bent backward over his desk at an impossible angle, spine audibly cracking, head dangling barely attached. His jaw hung unnaturally, pried open in a silent scream, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. The woman… Well.. He still wasn’t sure how she’d ended up like that. A leg dangled from the ceiling fan, lazily spinning in circles like some grotesque decoration, the shoe still on, laces trailing like streamers at a twisted party. An arm jutted out of the trash can, fingers posed in a mocking thumbs-up. The rest was… Scattered around- chunks of flesh and bone strewn across the lab like confetti, splatted on walls, smeared on monitors. Steve’s gaze had lingered on a particularly large piece pinned to the whiteboard by a scalpel. He had to assume he’d used his powers to rip her apart. And that was.. Well, it was probably true. Because there was no way his bare hands could’ve done such.. Extensive redecorating.

It’s not like he could watch the cameras back either. They’d mysteriously- conveniently- gone dark the moment the man hit the ground. Brenner had claimed it was a technical glitch, something about Steve’s powers interfering with the systems. A lie, maybe, to cover Steve’s ass. Or theirs. Or maybe.. Maybe Brenner scrubbed the footage himself, probably getting off on the chaos. Steve wasn’t sure which possibility pissed him off more. He’d dragged a bloodied hand through his hair, “Guess we’ll never know.”

Of course Brenner had praised him later, a glint of approval in his eyes, encouraging him to keep “testing his limits”. And Steve, teetering on that edge still without word of Eddie, was all too happy to oblige. The ice in his veins pulsed harder now, craving more, whispering promises of release in every drop of blood he spilled. He’d get Eddie back but until then, he’d make this place a graveyard for anyone who’d ever touched them.

The days that followed that were.. Muddy. A rut. A stupid, pathetic slump. From what he could remember.. He'd curled up on his bed most of the time, nuzzling Eddie's sweatshirt like it was the last remaining piece of his soul. He held it tight against his chest, breathing in the slowly fading scent. Sometimes he cried. Sometimes he didn't. And something he felt nothing at all, nothing except the ache of the bond being gone- like a limb cut off- the ever present cold making itself known. He roamed the hallways aimlessly, the times when he forced himself up, fingers trailing along the walls, letting staff scramble away in fear. The scent of it did nothing to fix the cold within him, but it did distract him.. Sometimes.

Or occasionally.. He would slink down below, just to stand in front of the caged demo-creatures. Trying to figure them out. Trying to see if anything inside him reacted to them. Wondering if he was becoming more like them in some weird way. Or less like himself, maybe. But after all the different tests of his strengths, all the combat trials, all the "you've definitely gotten stronger, Steven", there were barely any left. Two? Three maybe? He was running out of monsters to use as mirrors.

But then- it was like something clicked on in his brain again. A blown fuse being switched back on. He snapped awake one morning and couldn't keep still. He spent days supervising the new security upgrades, stalking from room to room, demanding explanations, giving orders, cursing at incompetent techs who flinched like kicked dogs. He personally did the redesign on the keycard system because the engineers were apparently allergic to logic- the audit too, since too many people had access to places they shouldn't. He reviewed patrol patterns, updated containment procedures, even went through the encrypted comm logs with a fine-tooth comb.

They'd even asked for his input, on practically everything: camera redundancies, door lock sequences, guard rotations. He hadn't realized how many people avoided looking him in the eyes until they were forced to stand beside him during meetings. It was intoxicating. It was freeing. It was… Lonely.

And now? Now he was just… Walking still. Away from the Pitt.

No destination. No plan. Just letting his legs carry him somewhere- anywhere- because the silence of even his room felt too loud and the sweatshirt on his pillow felt too empty. The hall stretched ahead, dimly lit, humming loudly now. His boots scuffed lightly against the concrete in a rhythm that was almost annoying.

He didn't know where he was going. Just knew he wasn't there.

Not with Eddie.

Not where he needed to be.

Not anywhere that mattered.

And God- it pissed him off. Made him tired. Made him want to scream. Made him want to tear the lab apart but also curl up under a blanket and pretend the world didn't exist. So he walked. Because movement was better than standing still. Because stopping meant feeling. Because somewhere in this maze of concrete and fear, he was still waiting for a boy who wasn't here.

And the waiting was killing him slower than any monster ever could.

He blinked slowly as the main elevator came into view, two guards standing tense, rifles clutched across their chests as if that would help them. They were holding their breaths- he could hear it in the tight squeeze of their chests, small it in the stale air they refused to exhale. He gave them a low, thoughtful hum, smiling to himself as their heartbeats spiked with fear. But Steve didn't linger on them as his thoughts drifted again, slipping out and back toward Eddie like they always did.

-I wonder if they're letting him shower. He probably still thinks a stupid four-in-one counts as actual hygiene. A four-in-one. I swear to God.- His lips twitched, the barest echo of a smile tugging at one corner. -I'm gonna need an entire day just to get those knots out. He's hopeless… My Eddie. Never listens.- He shook his head.

The elevator doors slid open, and a sudden burst of sunlight stabbed into his eyes like knives. He hissed, stumbling a step back and blinking rapidly. When had he…? How had he ended up here? He couldn't remember the walk, couldn't remember pushing the buttons or swiping his card. So when had he-? Eh, it's been happening a lot lately. Getting so lost in his head, he only vaguely remembers making his body move to the places he really wanted to go, but couldn't force himself to when focusing on it. With a shrug to himself- because honestly, what else was he going to do?- Steve stepped forward, letting the doors close behind him as he crossed the hall to the other elevator, hands resting lazily in his pockets.

-Brenner said Eddie's being treated well… Can I really believe that?.. No. No, I have to because..- His jaw clenched. -Because the alternative is something I can't.. The thought that… I have to believe he's okay. I have to.- He slid his keycard into the call panel, brows drawn together in thought as his eyes dropped to his hands- to the rings, resting heavy and perfect against his skin. He hadn't taken them off since the moment he'd put them on. He doubted he ever would, not until he could give them back. -What would he think of me now? I mean.. He said I'd never be a monster in his eyes, no matter what I do… But does that still count when he finds out what I've actually done? How far I've gone?-

He tried not to think about it as he stepped into the elevator, hitting the first button. Tried not to think about the spray of blood across the walls. Tried not to think about what Eddie would think if he knew the way his claws had slid through a man's throat just days ago, like it was tissue paper, drenching him in blood. He tried not to think about how part of him- some terrible, hollow part- didn't even regret it.

-Would things still be the same? Could we really just go back to how we used to be? Would he ever again take my face between his hands and kiss me like his life depended on it? Would he… Would the bond… Would the bond come back? Would he even want it back?-

A quiet, wounded sound broke from his chest. A whine that he swallowed too late, thank God he was alone. Steve tried to shut the thoughts off; he really did. But it just made the cold worse.

When the doors opened on the top floor, his posture snapped into something relaxed, casual, fake. He drifted past security without looking at any of them. Up here, it wasn't guard- just regular, plain, self-important security officers who thought they were safe because no "experiment" had made it this far up.

-Idiots. All of them.-

Before he realized it, he was standing before an unremarkable door with a bright red EXIT sign painted on. He swiped his keycard again, listening to the soft electrical clicks before pulling it open as it lit up green.

The sun smacked into him.

He flinched, lifting an arm to shield his eyes. The heat was suffocating. Too bright. Too sharp. And yet- despite the warmth soaking into his blood-soaked shirt- his skin still felt cold, like each layer of him was frozen from the inside out. He hadn't been outside since coming here and it was… Uncomfortable.

Steve stepped out onto the roof slowly, taking a deep breath in- pine, dust, and new fear. He paused for a second at where he'd once left a body- it felt like years ago- staring down at the faint discoloration on the concrete. He could feel the guards behind him staring holes into his back, watching him warily. But he ignored them, wandering across the rooftop until he reached the far edge. He stepped up onto the ledge, toes hanging over open air as he stared out at the forest, picturing a path they'd taken just months ago. -Feels like forever.-

-If you were here right now… You'd pull me back. You'd roll your eyes and call me, me, dramatic.. But you're not. You're not anywhere. It's just… Me. And I know what I need to do, but I don't know if I have to strength to do it, not without you beside me.- He slowly tilted his head back, staring up at the sky, something tight and warped aching under his chest. "Please," his whisper came too quiet for anyone else to hear, barely above air. "Please just.. Give me a sign. Just.. Just bring him back to me.. Please."

"Talking to yourself again, sweetheart?"

Steve stiffened. Then slowly exhaled through his nose. Of course. Of course, he was here too. He didn't turn, just briefly glanced sideways. A familiar silhouette walked up beside him- a mop of curls, a grin that looked almost right, the shape of Eddie but wrong, wrong, wrong. Its presence always hit like a pressure behind his eyes, like something stretched thin inside his skull. The hallucination, the thing that wore his boyfriend's face, NotEddie, had been showing up more and more as of late. And Steve, well.. He found it harder and harder to ignore.

But fuck.. He was looking more solid lately. That scared him more than anything.

"Just… Asking for a favor, I guess." Steve muttered under his breath, shrugging weakly, eyes still looking up to the clouds overhead.

NotEddie hummed, stepping close enough for their shoulders to brush. The contact sparked pain across his skin- sharp, icy needles sinking into muscle and bone- but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. He was too tired. Too starved for his touch.

"Are you going to do it then?" NotEddie asked softly.

He lowered his head to stare back into the woods. "Do what? Jump? I mean, it would hardly kil-"

"No." The word was sharp, bitten out between bared teeth. "Not jump. Are you going to do it?"

Steve swallowed thickly, fingers curling and uncurling as he resisted reaching out. "I.. I don't know."

A hand- no warmth, not real, not right- wrapped around his fingers, thumb brushing over them. The pain flared instantly, shooting up his arm like electric frostbite. He sucked in a shaky breath, fingers tightening around NotEddie's. "Yes. You do."

"I…" His eyes squeezed shut as another hand slid across his lower back, each touch a burning cold that radiated straight up his spine. But he leaned into it, because even agony was better than nothing. "I know.. I just…" He opened his eyes, catching NotEddie's gaze out of the corner of his. "If I fail-"

"Then don't." Finger- wrong, ghostly cruel- pressed against his cheek in a tender gesture, fingers rubbing gently before NotEddie pulled away, stepping back.

And vanished.

Just like that. Leaving him alone again, even more so than before.

-I think… Even like this, even whole, I'm still sliding off the edge. Or maybe I'm already gone. Maybe this is round two of losing my mind. Or… Or maybe I never stopped.- He stepped back from the ledge, turning away from the sun, the sky, the trees, the nothing. -I have to do it. For him. For us. I just have to.- He walked back the way he came, stumbling back into his head- blinking and suddenly being somewhere else, missing minutes, maybe hours. He didn't notice the guards, didn't notice the elevator rides, didn't notice the halls.

He only noticed the cold. And then-

He was standing in his room again. He didn't even remember unlocking the door; he just… Was. Frozen in place, staring at Eddie's sweatshirt lying neatly on his pillow like a relic. The last warm thing he had left. And it wasn't enough, wasn't even close.

Steve flopped down face-first onto the bed, limbs splayed out like a starfish, like he'd simply fallen out of the sky and landed there. The mattress dipped under him, too soft, too cold, too not what he wanted. -It might not really be him.. But it's all I have right now. And he told me not to fail… So I won't. I can't.- He tried to bury his face deeper into the blankets, like maybe he could smother the thoughts scratching at the inside of his skull. With a groan, he rolled onto his back, arms draping dramatically across the mattress as he stared up at the ceiling. Same cracks, same water stains. -I could go out and take care of more pests. But to be honest.. That just sounds tiring.- Even the idea of killing something sounded exhausting, and he wasn't sure what that said about his mental state. Probably nothing good.

Maybe he really was starting to lose it. Maybe this entire thing- these kills, these hallways, these empty nights- were just some elaborate simulation the lab shoved into his brain again. Maybe he was still strapped down to that cold metal table, wrists burning under the restraints, fluorescent lights humming in that nauseating way. -No. No, that isn't true. Even in their fucked up minds, they couldn't make this up. They couldn't make up Eddie and me.. They aren't that nice.- A bitter snicker rolled out of him, sharp and humorless. -The lab.. Nice. Ha!.. Maybe I should go out, take care of some of the 'nicer' ones. Though.. I'm just not feeling up to it.-

He'd been doing this same pathetic cycle for the last few days specifically. Waking up with too-heavy thoughts, pacing the room, losing track of time, falling into memories like potholes he couldn't avoid. Feeling… What? Sad? Angry? Drained? He couldn't pin it down, couldn't isolate the emotions. It was just a mess- too much, too sharp, too loud in his head. And the worst part was the emptiness where the bond left a gaping hole in his chest. -And still! No fucking Eddie! I'm going to-

A hurried knock slammed into the silence, loud enough that Steve's teeth clicked together as he jerked upright. He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, nostrils flaring in annoyance. "Alright! Alright!" he snapped, swinging his legs off the bed and stomping across the room. He yanked the door open mid-stence, "This better be fucking-"

He stopped, blinking slowly. Well.. Not Brenner. Not some clipboard-carrying lab rat either. Instead… "…Freckles?" he questioned, recognizing the guard- Byron's partner. The guy looked like his skin was trying to crawl off his bones by how much he was trying to keep from shaking. "You'd better have a good reason for making me get up." One brow arched with theatrical disdain as he leaned against the door.

"Y-Yes, si-sir. May.. May I come in?" The man's eyes darted back and forth to both sides of the hall, even over Steve's shoulder, anywhere but directly at him. He reeked of fear- pungent, and also anxious, sharp. But beneath that was something else. Determination, maybe. Or stupidity. -Hard to tell the difference sometimes.-

Steve huffed and stepped aside with a dramatic sweep of his arm. -Eddie would laugh.- "Do hurry up. I have plans." -Liar.- He absolutely did not.

The man scurried inside, parking himself in front of the desk, hands clasped around his upper arms, shoulders stiff. Steve took his time walking over, letting the silence drag on purposefully until he stood nearly nose-to-nose with him. "Get on with it," he prompted, tone flat.

"I-I th-thought you'd.-"

"Quit stuttering or I'll lose my patience." He interrupted, waving a hand vaguely as though brushing away a fly. "I'm not going to dirty my room, so just say whatever it is."

"Y-Yes sir!" The man suddenly straightened, though he kept his eyes on the floor. "You told me to let you know if I.. If I find anything about the subj-"

Steve's hand snapped up, clamping over the man's mouth. Hard. His eyes went flat, cold, glowing faintly with barely contained anger. "His name is Eddie," he said quietly- too calm. "Or Edward. Or Munson even. Not subject or experiment or whatever else you're going to say. Understand?" The man nodded rapidly.

Slowly, Steve pulled his hand back, taking a step away from him. "Good.. Continue."

"S-Sorry." The guard cleared his throat and tried again. "You said to let you know if I find out anything about Mister Munson. -Mister.. I think I could like this guy.- The thought slipped by before he noticed.

"I did. And?.. Have you?" -I swear if you're ufcking me with I'll feed you to a-

"Yes, sir." The man clenched his hands around his arms before slowly dropping them with an exhale, shoulders beginning to relax. "I haven't been able to see him personally, but there are rumors."

"Rumors?" Steve pressed, crossing his arms in annoyance.

"Rumors.. That.. That there's something wrong going down on the floor he's being kept on. They locked it down, sir. Tight." The man winced as he said it, like the words themselves were dangerous. Or more than likely, he expected Steve to attack. "They were running some kind of experiment down there, something new, something.."

"Wrong?" He tried to keep from growling.

"Yes, sir. They're keeping it hushed up. No one outside the floor is supposed to know but.." He waved his fingers. "I also heard that one of the observation rooms has specific access to the cameras down there. But I wasn't able to figure out if it's true. I.. I apologize."

Steve hummed quietly, almost thoughtful- but the sound carried an edge, a sharpness that made the man visibly tense. His mind was already working, gears grinding through exhaustion and despair, irritation sparking into something dangerously close to purpose. The first flicker of direction he'd had in days.

And he wasn't sure if that made everything better- or so much worse.

So he just… Decided not to think too much about it. Not to let hope start creeping in like some pathetic, needy thing. Hope was dangerous. Hope was a trap. Hope was how he got gutted the first time. Better to smother it early.

"Thank you." He kept his tone steady, even though the look of surprise flashing over the man's face twisted something uncomfortable in his gut. "It might not seem like much to you, but it's very helpful."

"There's.. More." The man added softly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth like he wasn't sure he should say anything at all. "It's.. It's bigger than just you and Mister Munson now. At least.. So I've heard."

Steve leaned in a little, head tilting, eyebrows raised- waiting for him to explain. But something in his stomach lurched; something cold and unwelcome slithering behind his ribs.

The words started speeding up, tumbling out. "They've.. And.. Now, please understand, it's just rumors. Whispers I've overheard from some of the staff over the past couple weeks. Mainly, the scientists. They, uh.. They kind of gossip, a lot." So Steve lifted a hand to stop him.

"That's surprising, they're always so.. Y'know. But, good to know. And? What is it they're gossiping about?" He lowered his hand slowly, deliberately, trying not to spook the guy into another nervous spiral.

The man licks his lips throat bobbing in a hard swallow. "One of their experiments was a success. I-I don't know if it's more than one or.. Or any details but… Apparently it's… They said it's modeled after Experiment Seven, if that means anything to you?"

Steve froze up. Completely. His heart stuttered- an odd, painful clench- and for a moment, he wondered if it might finally stop entirely. His chest felt so tight it was physically painful now. -No.. They.. They couldn't have… Could they? They.. Why now? What's changed? How? How, how, how?!- On the outside, he didn't so much as blink.

"I… See." The growl boiling up his throat nearly tore itself free, but he swallowed it down viciously. He wanted to pace until the floor cracked. He wanted to scream. Maybe even cry. Most importantly, he wanted to tear through the walls and rip the lab apart beam by beam- he wanted Eddie.

Instead he stood there like a statue, the picture of calm.

"This is.. Something for me to look into, I suppose." He nodded once, sharp but controlled, eyes fixed on the man but not really seeing him. "Don't get used to it, but.. Thank you." He ran a hand over his mouth. "Now.. I need to think things over, so I want you to go on like normal. Let me know the moment you hear anything about Eddie and.. If you hear anything else about that experiment, do let me know."

Steve gave another thoughtful hum, turning his head toward the door, ideas flashing through him despite the fog in his chest. "If anyone asks what you were doing here.. Say I called you here, wanted to.. Talk." He turned back to the man, looking him up and down. "We're about the same age. Tell 'em I said I was feeling 'lonely', wanted to spend time with someone my own age instead of a bunch of old shits. Got it?"

The man nodded quickly. "Yes, sir. Got it. I'll um.. I'll say we were just hanging out, talking about…" His eyes darted around the room, landing on the now overflowing bookshelf beside him. "Books?"

Steve let out a sharp breath through his nose- almost a laugh- a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Movies. I'm definitely more knowledgeable about movies." He stepped back and plopped down onto his bed with a soft thump, bouncing a little. "Not a big fan of scary movies but.. Eddie made me watch Alien about a dozen times. You know it?"

"Oh yeah! I've practically got it memorized!" The man got excited, face lighting up like he'd completely forgotten about who he was with.

"That's good." Steve nodded thoughtfully. "Just say we were discussing the practical effects and how realistic it could ever be." He waved a hand carelessly, the motion tired but controlled. "I've taken up both sides of the argument, so if questioned, I can get by. Just uh.. Next time you come here, try to act casual at the door. Like you've been invited, instead of knocking like the buildings on fire. And uh…" He let out another quiet hum. "I guess it's probably best if you call me Steve, not Steven. Just Steve, since y'know, I invited you here to hang out and all that."

The man nodded slowly, understanding. "Yup, right. Got it.. Steve." He smiled, earnest and weirdly warm. "You can call me Za-"

"Freckles." Steve interrupts, this time with a real smile. "I've never really used names here except as insults, so.. It won't seem unusual, since we're 'hanging out' and all… Now that I think about it.. Might need to actually do that if it goes too long without anything happening." He leaned back, palms braced behind him as he stared up at the ceiling. "And.. Stop being so scared. You've helped me out here. I'm not going to kill you. Won't bite you either. And at this rate.. You continue to help me, I'll owe you a major favor."

"A favor?" Freckles murmured, clearly confused.

"Mhm." He hummed, eyes following the faint cracks in the ceiling like he was reading constellations. He let out a long, bone-deep sigh. "I'm gonna go check out that information as soon as I'm able, see if anything checks out. You just.. Stay outta trouble. Oh, and tell that partner of yours I said hi- assuming he’s out of the hospital yet. I haven't gone to check on him since that day, but if he misbehaves.. I'll come back." He snickered, waving him off.

Freckles nodded, offered a small, awkward goodbye before slipping out and letting the door close gently behind him.

The room felt bigger once he was alone, and far too quiet. Steve dropped backward onto the bed, legs kicking aimlessly back and forth. -If it's true… If it's true then… What the fuck are they doing with Eddie?! Does it.. Is he involved down there?- He shot upright again, hands braced on the mattress, staring at his desk with narrowed eyes. -Brenner would've told me. He would've been so fucking smug about it. So.. They couldn't have… Could they?-

His eyes suddenly zeroed in on the spot where Freckles had been standing, or rather, what had been behind him. A small folded up piece of paper sat on the desk- neat, ordinary, and out of place. Steve blinked. Once. Twice. He didn't remember it being there a minute ago.

Slowly, he pushed himself up and crossed the room. -It's just.. A piece of paper?- His eyes narrowed in on it and he reached out for it, fingers curling back at the last second as if it had teeth… -This is fucking stupid!- With a low growl, he snatched it up and unfolded it, ignoring the tremor in his hands. B's personal files, Seven-H-J-Twelve. Don't lose sight of the why. Don't forget about him.

His breath caught, spilling out in a shaky exhale.

It was… It was his handwriting; there was no denying it. But it was.. His stomach twisted as he flipped the paper over. They don't trust you. Make them trust you.

He couldn't remember writing any of this. Couldn't even imagine when he would've had the chance. He could hardly understand what some of it meant but… He had? Written it that is. Somehow.

And that terrified him more than anything right now. Especially since he could've sworn the piece of paper hadn't been there a minute ago.

-B.. That had to be Brenner.. Right?- He hummed to himself, staring down at the note, jaw tight. He needed to destroy it, had to make sure no one saw it- but how? Flushing it risked someone finding it in the system, especially if it gets caught in something. Burning it would have people asking questions. And his trash, he could almost guarantee, was checked.

So there was really only one option he could think of. -Well…-

With a grimace, he shoved the strip of paper into his mouth. His nose wrinkled in disgust as he chewed, slowly and with visible discomfort. The texture was awful as it quickly became a mix of pulp, ink, and spit- and it made his jaw twitch with every grind of his teeth. -This is actually kind of pathetic. God, what are you doing to yourself, Harrington? Eating notes now? What's next? Barking for treats?- His nostrils flared, tongue protesting every second. -And what's in those personal files anyway? I… I hope it's not more lost memories… I'm more than certain I have all my memories but… I.. Fuck!-

He forced himself to swallow, the wad dragging painfully down his throat. He gagged once, twice, then managed to choke it down. The aftertaste clung like a poison as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, scowling.

The room suddenly felt too tight all of a sudden. Too bright. Too quiet. Like it was closing on him. He needed to.. To.. To do something!

Steve began pacing before he consciously decided to move, steps quick and sharp as he dragged a ring-clad hand through his hair. He tugged a little too hard, fingers catching in the tangles. -Fanfuckingtastic! Exactly what I needed, more shit being thrown in my life!-

He spun at the far wall and stomped back in the other direction, breath coming too shallow, too fast. His thoughts were tripping over one another, scrambling, no focus, no calm. Just noise, just an echoing static. But suddenly, he paused, staring at the door like someone might burst in at any second. Nobody did, of course. They wouldn't dare. They were all too scared, too freaked out by the monster that lives among them. The thing that came after them at seemingly random. The person they all listened to, to rewrite security protocols, to keep them safe from the demons down below- even if they didn't consider him a person. They wouldn't come here unless they needed him. Unless they wanted something. Unless Eddie-

His chest tightened painfully. Suddenly, he turned away from the door, so sudden he nearly stumbled, moving straight to the bed and collapsing face-first onto it with a muffled groan, legs kicking once in frustration before he flipped over and stared up at the ceiling. Again.

He had needed to move, and he did. But the silence was still pressing against his ears.

It was like something was wrong inside him. Like a switch flipped and he was just.. Wrong. Still Steve Harrington, still himself, still just.. Stevie. But it just felt so fucking wrong! He sat up again, too fast, too sudden. And just like that- was once more off the bed and pacing again. Fingers raking through his hair, rings clinking against each other as he tugged roughly at the strands- those little reminders of Eddie, of promises, of the bond that should have been humming inside him but was just… Gone.

Instead, the cold inside throbbed behind his ribs like a heartbeat that didn't belong to him.

His throat tightened. His eyes burned.

"Fuck!" It came out whispered under his breath. Quiet, almost inaudible.

It just felt like if he didn't keep moving, carefully, something else would break. And he wasn't sure if that something would be the last pieces of his sanity, or his heart.

And just as soon as he'd begun again- Steve suddenly stopped, eyes squeezing shut as he leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees, breathing hard as if he'd run a marathon. -Calm down, calm down, calm… Yeah, sure, like that's gonna happen.-

A low growl simmered in his throat.

He straightened up, nostrils flaring as he forced his breathing to stop. He held still for one…Five… Fifteen… Thirty long seconds until he slowly, slowly took a deep breath in. Then he began again pacing, pacing, pacing. Back and forth. Back. And forth. Fingernails scraping at his scalp, rings clinking with each frantic tug. His fingers twitched- itching to punch something, to break something, anything- but he forced himself to just. Keep. Walking. He didn't trust himself not to put a hole through the wall.

Or worse.

He didn't trust himself not to punch straight down to wherever Eddie was being kept.

The room felt like a cage, too small, too still, too empty. Steve suddenly stopped mid-stride, staring over at Eddie's sweatshirt still folded neatly on the pillow.

Without thinking, he walked over and picked it up with surprisingly careful hands. The fabric was just so soft, warm from the bed still, oddly heavy in his hands. He pulled it to his- bloodied, but thankfully dry- chest, pressing his face into it, inhaling deep and hoping for something. Anything. Even the faintest trace of Eddie's real scent.

For a second, he could swear he'd caught it.

His knees gave out, and he sank down onto the mattress, curling forward around the sweatshirt like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world. The cold inside pulsed again, sharper this time, wrapping around his ribs and spreading down to his toes- like a warning. Or a punishment. Maybe a reminder. The room began to blur at the edges as his breath started coming shallow, shaky, uneven. His eyes stung, jaw clenching so tight it hurt.

He wanted Eddie. Needed Eddie. Needed the warmth, the bond, the feeling of calm- anything to keep the cold from taking more of him. Or from losing his mind completely. It just felt like everything was pressing in and eating him alive from the inside out.

Steve curled tighter around the sweatshirt. His thoughts were screaming, only quieting- barely- because they'd grown too heavy for him to move. And he just.. Sat there- knees drawing up, shoulders hunching, fingers tightening desperately around the fabric- Steve felt himself start to slip back into the haze that had been stalking him since the day he woke up on those rocks.

The soft cotton pressed against his forehead. "I'm trying," he whispered to no one. Maybe to himself, maybe to Eddie- if he was even still.., "I'm trying to be strong, to not fall apart. But it's.. It's so… Hard." His voice broke on the last word.

The room stayed silent. And for that, Steve felt like he was sinking all the more.

---

He doesn't know how long he sat there, curled into the sweatshirt like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Time wasn't behaving normally- stretching thin in places, collapsing in others- leaving him unsure whether minutes or hours had passed. All he knew for certain was the ache in his chest and the constant tremor in his hands as he clung to the faded fabric. He could feel himself shaking now, small involuntary shudders racking through him, through his breathing- which had finally evened out into those soft, barely there exhales. But there was just… He couldn't… He couldn't make himself stop feeling like this, couldn't stop the hollow scraping ache of being alone.

There was nothing special that happened. No sound or a shift or any indication that he'd stopped being alone. No flicker of shadows, no ripple through the stale recycled air, not even a soft dip of the mattress beside him. One second, he was curled in on himself, face buried in the sweatshirt like he could inhale what was left of Eddie. And the next, there was a hand sliding across his shoulders, cold and achingly familiar, pain sinking straight down his spine like someone rammed a frozen knife into him.

"Sweetheart. Wanna tell me what's wrong?" That voice- warm in tone, cold in reality- wrapped around him and settled into the hollow space like it belonged there.

Steve slowly raised his head, like it weighed too much, lashes sticking together, vision blurring with unshed tears as he looked up at NotEddie's concerned expression. This version of him always looked concerned in the exact way Eddie would have- head tilted just slightly, brows drawn just enough- but it was always.. Off. Never quite right. Something in his eyes, something in the shape of its mouth. Uncanny, comforting, and torturous all at once.

His jaw trembled, but he forced out a thin, broken sound masquerading as a sentence. "I….. I'm not strong enough. I can't-… Eddie… Please." He didn't even know what he was begging for. Help? Comfort? A real answer? The real Eddie? He couldn't tell anymore.

"Oh, Stevie." NotEddie murmured, reaching up slowly. A gentle hand cupped his jaw, pain immediately radiating from the point of contact- sharp, stinging, bright- for a moment it stole his breath, but he held himself together. He didn't want the touch to stop, even if it hurt, even if it hurt in ways he didn't fully understand.

NotEddie leaned in until their foreheads knocked together. The moment they connected, another bright flash of pain shot through Steve's skull, but he bit back the sound that clawed its way up his throat. Felt his fangs pop out and dig painfully into his lower lip in instinctive restraint. "You're just feeling a little sad right now, aren't you?" NotEddie whispered, voice soft, teasing, cruelly tender. "Missin' me a bit too much?"

Steve nodded, a small, desperate motion, pressing his cheek into the fingers tracing there even as it felt like a line of electric agony ran through his jaw. "I know," NotEddie soothed. "I know you do. But it's gonna be alright, sweetheart. You're gonna see me again. It's just gonna take a while is all."

"I… I don't think I have a while." Steve weakly admitted, eyes dropping back down to the sweatshirt clenched in his hands.

"I know," came the soft reply, firm in a way that made Steve feel simultaneously steadied and crushed.

"Please," he breathed, rubbing his cheek into the hand despite the pain. He didn't know what he wanted- just that he wanted something, anything, anyone that was Eddie or close enough to pretend.

NotEddie's fingers drifted down, thumb brushing the wet track of a tear before the hand slid lower, curling under Steve's chin. The motion was slow, deliberate, almost gentle- until the pressure increased, forcing Steve's head up so their eyes met. Almost cruel. Definitely familiar.

"Steve," the voice lowered into something firmer, ground almost. "It's gonna seem impossible. Probably already does, but you've done impossible things before." A thumb traced over his chin- slow, painful, but tender. "So.. Put on the sweatshirt. Don't look at me like that- put it on. You need to stand out from them, make them look at you like a human again. I know. I know it's so hard." His tone softened into something nearly pleading. "But do it for me, sweetheart. Please?"

Steve nodded slowly, a strangled whine finally breaking loose. Could he? What if he ruined it? Ruined the last remaining piece of him that felt real. "Please just.. Just tell me where to find you," he begged, voice cracking.

"Oh, sweetheart," NotEddie murmured, thumb pressing into his chin hard enough to bruise- hard enough to send another sharp pain down his jaw. "You know I can't… I'm not really here after all." Then the pressure vanished- completely, abruptly. The pain went with it, like someone had ripped a plug out of his nervous system.

Steve's eyes had shut at some point, maybe in fear of seeing him disappear again, maybe because it hurt too much to look. But when he opened them again, he was alone.

The room felt somehow colder. Emptied. Quieter in the way only isolation could be.

With a long, shuddering breath that felt too heavy to just be air- Steve forced himself to straighten again. His spine cracked, his shoulders tensed, his fingers clenched around the sweatshirt so tight he worried it might rip. That scared him enough to drop it.

He stared down at the thing in his lap. Eddie's. Soft from too many washes. Still faintly clinging to a smell that might have been Eddie or might have been memory, or desperation wearing itself thin. "Okay," he whispered, voice hoarse and small. "Okay. It's okay. It's gonna be okay."

He didn't know if that was true, but saying it helped something in his chest lift just enough to take the next breath. He brushed his fingers over the cracked logo, gently. -I can do this. I can… I can do this. I'll figure it out. Figure out what it means. Where Eddie is. I'll figure out….. File Seven-H-J-Twelve. I'll figure it out.-

---

Three days.

It was three painfully slow days of sitting, watching, planning, waiting. Three days of nothing. Three days alone. Three more days without Eddie.

The first two dragged on, and he thought they'd never end. They weren't dramatic, not explosive the way he would've handled things years ago. No walls punched, no screaming matches with the mirror, no demands for someone to fix this. No, those first forty-eight hours were strangely quiet, almost mechanical, like he'd slipped into some washed-out version of himself that didn't know how to be a person anymore.

He got up. Sat on the edge of his bed, stared at the rug he had ordered, or the wall, or the rings for who-knows-how-long. He paced a little, ate and drank whatever was in his minifridge, glared at nothing, and slept both too much and not enough. Everything just felt muffled inside his skull as his body moved on autopilot, hollow and slow, drifting from one corner of the room to another like a ghost trying to remember what it used to haunt.

Sometimes Steve caught himself reaching for the bond again- a reflex or desperation, he wasn't sure anymore- only to hit that freezing empty space where Eddie used to be. The crushing cold that lived inside him didn't flare or burn; it just settled in deeper, heavier, a weight he could feel trying to drag him down. By the second day, even trying hurt too much, so he stopped, let the emptiness curl into his ribs, and stayed quiet. He missed Eddie. Missed him with that sharp gnawing ache that made everything taste wrong, and sound wrong, and feel wrong. Even chewing felt like a chore.

By the end of the second night, frustration simmered under his skin, needling him in uneven, irritating jolts. He couldn't sit still, so he paced back and forth in front of the wardrobe until he wore a faint trail in the rug. Ran a ring-clad hand through his hair so many times it stuck up in uneven tufts. Tried to draw- because it used to help, used to let him bleed something out onto paper- but the pencil snapped clean in his hand the moment he tried to sketch the curve of a jaw that looked too much like Eddie's.

That's when the restlessness started creeping in again. Slow at first, then faster, sharper, clenching around his ribcage with every breath. He sat on the bed, stood up again. Sat. Stood. Sat. Pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and tried not to scream. Tried not to break anything. Tried not to fall apart again because he'd already done enough of that.

He kept thinking, I need him. I need him back. I need him back.

And then, quieter, like a secret he couldn't even admit to himself.: I don't know how to do this without him anymore.

But somewhere near dawn, something changed. A click, a snap, a realization. A plan- not a perfect one, not even a fully formed one- but it was something.

And that something lit a spark.

The third day wasn't like the others.

Steve woke up staring at the ceiling, same as the morning before, but the air felt different somehow. Sharper. Charged. His body still felt the heavy ache, the cold in his chest still solid and bitter.. But there was something underneath all of that. A hum, a buzz, a strange bright thread of excitement winding through the building depression like a live wire.

Manic. That was the word, and he knew the feeling well down here. It fizzled under his skin like static as he rolled out of bed.

There wasn't anything particularly special about the day; he wasn't planning on doing anything particularly special either. There wasn't anything that should make him feel so… Giddy.

But he was. Unreasonably, wildly, irrationally giddy.

Because the plan- half-formed, vague, fragile- was in motion now.

To start, he took a long shower, longer than necessary, letting the water beat down on the back of his neck until the tiles steamed. He spent time just staring at the rings on his fingers, turning them slowly, studying how the droplets clung to the metal. He imagined Eddie sliding them on him again, and the cold hit his chest like an iron fist, but he swallowed it down, had to.

Then he stepped out and dried off quickly, using the towel to fluff up his hair before pulling on Eddie's sweatshirt with a tenderness that bordered on reverence, careful with the fabric as if it might turn to dust. It hung off him the way it always did- too big, too soft, too.. Eddie- and he took a deep breath, soaking in the scent still clinging to it. It steadied him. Not fully, not enough to fill that void, but enough to make the manic buzz sharpen into focus.

He even went so far as to spritz on some of Eddie's favorite cologne, just to smell like him. Then he fixed his hair with ridiculous precision, just like he used to- twenty minutes of combing, smoothing, fluffing, and shaping until he looked… Well. Normal? Or something close enough to pass for it.

Then came the jeans. Tight blue denim, worn in at the seams, ripped at one knee because he ordered them that way, to feel more like he was used to. Paired it with clean white sneakers. All of it with his boyfriend's oversized hoodie and having done his hair?

He looked in the mirror and knew exactly how he came across.
Fuckable.
But also approachable. Familiar. Disarming.. As much as he can be when everyone here has seen him gut people for fun.

But it was perfect for what he wanted to do today.

With a hum and a pep to his step, Steve had the perfect plan for his morning. So he headed upstairs. He let his hands slide casually into his back pockets, humming under his breath as he greeted the guard with a lazy, friendly nod. He didn't antagonize them, didn't snarl or snap like he normally did. He just breezed past them with a soft smile, almost skipping down the hall. He just slid his keycard where it needed to go, greeted guards in and out of the elevator, and completely missed the way his attitude had their fear skyrocketing. He was just happily drowning in the scent of Eddie's sweatshirt.

Before he knew it, he was pushing open the doors to the private dining room with a bright, practiced smile. "Martin!"

Brenner looked up from the file on the table. His laugh was soft, surprised. "Steven. Good morning to you too. You seem to be in a good mood today." He gestured to the chair beside him.

"Oh, I am!" He chirped, circling the table to his usual spot.

"It's been a while since you've joined me this early. Usually, I have to all but beg you to be here." Brenner eyed his outfit with a raised brow, particularly his sweatshirt. "Is there a special occasion I don't know about?"

Steve hummed, smile stretching wide, a little too bright. "I had a great night's sleep, a wonderful dream too, took a nice hot shower, and I just feel really good today." He leaned in, hands bracing against his cheeks like he was simply thrilled to be awake. "How's it been going? I haven't seen you in person since… Last week? Definitely heard you through those speakers though, they need to be fixed, too squeaky." He shrugged. “It really skewed the tests with the demogorgons.”

Brenner closed the folder, leaning back with a small nod. "I'll have it taken care of. I've been rather well, we're making headway on a project I've been very invested in, which I hope to share with you soon. The expansion on the East wing is shaping up better than projected. And…" He gave Steve a pointed, knowing look. "I've heard a very interesting rumor about you."

A waiter set down a steaming glass of blood beside him. Steve flashed the man a grin, then turned back to Brenner with an airy, exaggerated sigh. "Oh? What is it this time? That I've started eating babies? Or that I'm having secret meetings with the government?" He sipped, humming at the warmth. "Or maybe… Oh! Come on, tell me it's something juicy this time."

Brenner huffed, shaking his head. "I think, sometimes, you enjoy these rumors more than the staff enjoys spreading them." Then he leaned in, chin resting on his knuckles. "I've heard that you've been snooping around in the files. Care to explain, or do I need to go check for myself?"

-Shit, shit, shit! Just what I need, trying to explain myself. It's why I keep to myself!! Fuck!-
"Hmm?" Steve lifted the glass again, taking a long swallow to buy time. "Oh, no. Yeah. I did." -Play it cool, Harrington. Play it cool.- He waved his free hand with lazy indifference. "I was looking for a few different things. Didn't find them all, yet. Still working on it actually. Might go back later today, if I have time."

He lounged back in the chair, forcing himself to be calm. "First stop was finding a file on a nameless man. Not much luck there, of course. I'm only pretty sure he was one of the scientists here, not entirely though. He helped Edward and I after our escape. Wanted to know more about the guy.. Anything really."

Brenner blinked- real surprise flickering over his face. -Ohhoho, so you didn't know about him.. Interesting.- "Someone assisted you?"

Steve nodded, humming in agreement. "Yup. Couldn't find him though. Maybe someone snuck him in just to help us?" He shrugged. "No idea what his name is, so the whole thing, just finding his file, it's a pain in the ass." He took another sip, feeling actually calmer after his slight freak-out. Over nothing. "I was also looking into some of the staff, and doing some research on a little pet project of mine. One I think you'll be very interested in. But, I don't wanna spoil the surprise just yet." He smiled again, eyes crinkling. "You'll be proud of me for it. So I'm keeping it a secret until it's at least mostly put together."

Brenner looked- well, shocked. "You're… Steven.. I must admit, I thought it would take far more to bring you back to us, considering everything that's happened. Yet, here you are, getting right to work after practically no downtime. Enhancing our security, completing your tests with ease, 'removing' unproductive staff. And now a project of your own again?" He clapped once in clear delight, leaning back as their food was brought out to them. "I cannot wait."

Steve's smile softened into something almost genuine as he reached for his fork. "I was also thinking of going down to visit our guests." He prodded at a poached egg, narrowing his eyes at it. "That's why I chose this outfit. Thought it might help keep them calm if I came in looking more… Familiar." He took a bite, watching the man from the corner of his eye.

"I would love to know how they react to you." Brenner smiled into his food. "Every time I've tried talking to them, it's nothing but expletives. You'd think children would have a better vocabulary."

He rolled his eyes and focused instead on the French toast. "Doesn't surprise me. They're difficult on a good day. Not much point in you talking to them in my opinion, they can't grasp what we're trying to accomplish here. They're too narrow-minded." He took a subtle breath in and Brenner smelled… Pleased. He could work with that.

"You're quite right." Brenner agreed after another bite. "Though I hoped after so much time alone, they'd be more docile. I've had to tighten security down there, twice."

Steve nodded knowingly. "Sounds about right. I told you- they're disruptive. Personally, I don't think most of them even needed to come here. But… Eleven, I'll agree with you, having her here could be beneficial for future projects." A bitter thought flickered. -God, I sound exactly like my father.- "Though, still not sure why the rest of them are being kept here."

"At this point, it's purely containment." Brenner waved him off. "If we let them go, they'll only return to interfere again. And we don't need more issues."

Steve hummed again.

And the rest of the meal passed in silence. A heavy, contemplative silence on Brenner's side. An almost buzzing, jittery anticipation on Steve's. He drained two more glasses of blood before waving off the server. And when the plates were cleared, and they were both comfortably full, Steve spoke again.

"Maybe… I could bring them down some books or something. Just to keep them entertained.. Complacent." He toyed with his keycard on the table, balancing it under his fingertip until it spun, a thoughtful hum rolling under his breath. "Though I'd need to be careful about what I give them. They'll probably try to interpret anything as a sign I'm helping with whatever it is they're planning." -Because they've got to be planning.. Something?-

Brenner nodded, sipping a cup of coffee now. "Perhaps you could bring them the book I gave you for your first birthday down here, if you're not too attached to it. I think the inscription might enlighten them."

Steve let out a quiet laugh- thin, airy, brittle around the edges. He tilted his head back, eyes tracing the lines in the ceiling, letting the silence settle between them. One minute, two. His chest rose and fell slowly, almost too slowly for someone supposedly relaxed.

Then he lowered his head again, softening his eyes just enough to look fragile. "Do you… Have any kind of update?" His voice was small, too soft, meek. "On him?"

Setting his mug down, Benner let out a quiet sigh. "Steven-"

"Please." The word escaped before he could swallow it. Too small. Too desperate. "I… Look I.. I'll be honest, because I've never lied to you and I'm not going to start now." He inhaled sharply, teeth catching his bottom lip for a moment. "I tried to find him… I walked down to floors I'd never bothered to go before but I.." His throat bobbed as he forced himself to meet Brenner's eyes again, his own looking glassy, near breaking. Please. Tell me the truth… Is he dead?"

Brenner closed his eyes for a brief moment, long enough that the pause felt like a knife twisting in Steve's heart. Then he leaned back in his chair. "Steven…" He opened his eyes again. "He isn't dead."
A flicker- pain, relief, something twisting in Steve's gut and chest at once.
"And thank you, for telling me the truth. I must admit, though, I expected you to go looking far earlier than you did."
-So did I.-
"So I'm not surprised, nor am I angry. I understand you care for him, but the data he's providing is invaluable."

Steve nodded slowly, letting his shoulders curve inward like the admission hurt but made sense. "I… I know. I just-" He cut himself off with a small shake of his head, like the words jammed on the way out.

Brenner watched him for a beat, then changed tact with a gentle hum. "But I heard you've been making a friend?" A brow arched.

"Oh.. Yeah, well.. There's only a good handful of guys down here my age, so…" He shrugged meekly, looking down at his hands, letting himself seem small.

"Oh no, don't get me wrong, Steven. I'm happy to hear it." Brenner reached for his pen on top of the file he'd been reading earlier, to make a quick note. "I'll see if we can hire some more younger staff. So you don't get lonely, of course. I did, after all, promise you'd have a good life down here."

-Oh please, don't do me any favors.- "I um… Thank you. I'm actually going to meet up with one or two of them soon. I'm.. I think I've just been needing to work through my anger, actually, about how I'd been treated without my memories, among other things.. But I woke up today and I'm just feeling… Lighter."

A shy little smile curved his lips, and Brenner accepted it easily.

The rest of the conversation passed quickly- surface level things, small updates, meaningless chatter that Steve played along with effortlessly. The buzz in his veins made his foot start tapping under the table, made him chew on his lips, made him feel like the air around him was vibrating.

But soon enough he was walking back down the hall, in the opposite direction of Brenner, and the giddiness surged again. It rippled under his skin like electricity, crackling from fingertip to toe. He felt almost normal again- almost- but better, sharper, like something out of place had finally aligned inside him.

He almost started skipping. Almost.

Then he rounded the corner toward the stairs.

"Hey there, Big Boy." NotEddie leaned against the wall just outside the stairwell, arms crossed, lips twisted into that familiar but wrong crooked smirk- the one that lived in the back of his mind like a ghost.

Steve's lips twitched into a soft, guarded smile as he slid his keycard through the reader, humming as it blinked green. He kept his expression mild, nothing suspicious to any watching cameras. But once the door shut behind him-

The smile exploded across his face, bright and young and too full of relief. There were, surprisingly, never any cameras installed in here.

"I figured it out," he whispered, breathless, excited, leaning toward his hallucination with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Oh?" NotEddie bumped his shoulder- Steve ignored the pain- trailing after him down the stairs. His boots thudded softly, rhythmically, unrealistically even- it wasn't sound, not really, just a memory masquerading as it.

"Mhm." He hummed. "Soon enough, everything will be perfect. I promise."

NotEddie's smirk softened for a moment; it almost looked proud. Almost real. "Good." It was surprisingly quiet. But the tone.. This one had an edge Steve didn't like- flat, wrong, hollowed out. Like a recording of Eddie instead of Eddie himself.

He turned back to comment on it, irritation pinching his brows-

But he was alone. Again. -Of course.-

"Well.." His voice flattened into a pout, a childish whine slipping through because no one was around to hear it. "That was fast." He huffed, shoulders dropping dramatically. "I wasn't done talking to you yet, jerk."

The stairwell just hummed with fluorescent lights and silence.

With a pout, Steve took the next step, then another, each becoming more determined, and more excited than the last. He was still lonely, still cold, still aching. But he had a plan to carry out.

---

He could feel the way his heart was pounding, faster than he'd felt it since… Well, probably since he'd changed. The thudding was sharp and wrong, too alive, rattling inside his chest like it was trying to escape through his throat. It made him nauseous, dizzy, and his nerves felt like someone had rubbed them raw. He'd gone back to his room earlier to gather what he thought might help: several books- some he'd read, some he hadn't-, empty notebooks, a new sketchbook, colored pencils, a few toys for them to fidget with because Dustin always had too much energy, and even a pack of cards. He put it all into a tote, slinging it over his shoulder as if it were gear he needed before walking into enemy territory.

And now… Now he was standing in the stairwell outside their floor, staring at the numbers stenciled on the wall. The floor that held.. Everyone. Everyone except Eddie, that is. That thought knotted something low in his gut, made the cold inside flicker in a way that was almost too painful.

Steve tightened his grip on the tote's strap until his knuckles whitened, using his other hand to swipe his keycard and type in the administrative override code. It beeped in acceptance, and he flinched back at the sound, like it was too sudden. -I can.. I can do this. I can do this.. I have to do this.- Step after Step, he walked down the hallway, trying to force his hands steady. He tucked them against his sides, flexed his fingers, unclenched them, clenched again.

The closer he got.. The more he could hear.

Dustin's heartbeat was the most frantic- fast, staccato, again and again, the way it got when he argued or worked himself up. Hopper's was slow but heavy, thudding with annoyance and tension. Joyce's fluttered anxiously. Murray's was erratic like he'd marched around the room ten times in a row -he very well might've, guys nuts-. Jonathan's and Nancy's were both tight, wound-up, miserable. Eleven's was calm, steady, but sharp at the edges.

And Wayne's… Wayne's had that low, pained vibration it carried when he was worried but quiet about it.

Their voices rolled over him- angry whispers, worried mutters, something thudding softly like someone pacing or kicking a chair.

Then Steve was there, standing in front of the heavy double doors with two guards stationed on each side, two more sweeping behind him, everyone armed but trying not to stand too close to him.

"Sir," one of the guards greeted with a nod. -Dustin, Wayne, Hop, Joyce… Fuckin' Murray. Jonathan, Nance, Eleven..- He counted each of their heartbeats again just to be sure. "If you're going inside, we have to accompany you. Doctor Brenner's orders." He added the last part quickly, like he knew Steve wouldn't like the reminder.

Steve gave a small, stiff nod, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "Mhm, I know. If you could…" He inhaled slowly- pointlessly as his heart kept thudding. "Open it.. Please." Slowly, he let it out.

It didn't help.

The guards moved quickly, and the moment the lock clicked, the voices inside cut off sharply. Complete silence except the thudding heartbeats beyond. The guards moved in first, stepped inside with weapons drawn on the group. The heartbeats all spiked in tandem, Steve could practically taste the fear and their anger; it sat on his tongue far too similar to the metallic tang of blood.

He walked in behind them, keeping a few paces of distance, moving carefully, expression forced into the blank, neutral shape he'd practiced so many times over. Not warm, not cold- just… Nothing. A mask smooth enough that it didn't betray the shaking underneath.

The guards behind him took their places at the door, the ones in front lowering their guns but not dropping them, hovering like shadows just out of his peripheral vision.

"Hi." His voice was level, too calm, not matching the frantic rhythm of his heart. He looked them over slowly. -Okay.. Okay, so they look.. Taken care of. Fed, hydrated, no visible injuries. That's good. That's something.- "I brought yo-"

"Steve!" Dustin cut him off, voice cracking. "Dude-"
"Harrington." Hopper's tone was clipped, irritated, sitting exactly between anger and concern.
"Mister Harri-" Murray started, and Steve had to bite down the urge to roll his eyes so hard his skull cracked.
"Oh, Steve." Joyce's voice was soft, achingly so.
They all spoke over each other, different inflections of his name- fear, frustration, relief, confusion.

Everyone, except Wayne.

Wayne said nothing. He simply watched Steve with that low, furrowed worry, the kind of look that made Steve feel small and seen and guilty all at once. That look hurt more than anything else in the room, hurt more than he was willing to admit.

Steve cleared his throat, shifting the tote higher on his shoulder, forcing his posture straight. "I brought you all a couple of things, so you wouldn't get too bored." His voice was mild, almost clinical. He gestured at the guards, signaling they could step back to the doors with the others. They obeyed, and he walked to the table, slowly beginning to empty the tote, ignoring the way their eyes tracked his every move- as if he might shatter or lash out, as if they weren't sure what he was anymore.

"Brought some books, stuff to draw with, some cards. Um.. Oh, a Rubik's Cube. Couple things to fidget with too." He shrugged stiffly. "Just… Things." He turned back, and they were still staring, frozen between hope and fear. He pretended not to notice as he reached into the pile and picked up his worn copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, holding it out to Dustin with a small, almost fond tilt to his head.

"Thought you'd like to borrow this one." He glanced at Dustin, then the book, then to Dustin again, eyes widening just slightly, waiting for him to take it.

Dustin stepped forward hesitantly, almost like he expected his hand to get bitten off. -They weren't even this scared of me that very first day…- "You've.. Read it?"

Steve hummed softly. "Yeah, a couple times actually. Well.. Technically, it's been read to me more recently than me reading it but.. Yeah I uh.." His lips twitched into something that resembled a smile. "I see why you said I was like Bilbo.. Kiiinda have to agree with you there." The smile faltered for a second. "I think my favorite chapter is the fifth one."

He turned back to unload more of the books, grabbing another stack to put aside. "I brought something for everyone but uh.." He shrugged, back turned to them. "I can't stay long. Lots to do today, I've got to-"

"We've been here what… A month?" Jonathan interrupted, sounding exasperated, tired. "People have to be questioning it by now."

Steve froze for half a second, then slowly set the stack aside, straightening it just to keep his hands busy. He exhaled slowly, through his nose. "It's been handled." He pressed his tongue against the front of his teeth, a nervous tic he'd picked up from trying not to flash fangs when stressed. "Doctor Brenner sent a message to Owens back in Hawkins. Discreetly. Owens was informed of your.. Inability to return home for the foreseeable future, and to please contact your families and jobs so they don't think you're just another person to vanish or.. Die there."

"What?" Hopper snapped, Steve could see him crossing his arms from the corner of his eye.

"He was just gonna say you'd all died." He slowly turned back around. "But I asked him not to. I mean.. Indisposed sounds better than buried after all." He waved a hand, dismissing the weight of the entire situation like it wasn't crushing him. "Annnyway. Like I said, busy day."

He stepped around them, almost brushing shoulders but avoiding physical contact with a practiced precision, heading for the door.

"Errands to run. Tasks to complete. Working on a project and all that."

He kept talking deliberately, knowing they wouldn't be able to wedge in another question he wasn't prepared to answer.

"I'll try and come back, when I can. But I'm working on a lot right now. Doctor Brenner had me finalizing more security upgrades- there were a lot of holes in the system that our little adventure helped point out. I'm researching something new I want to propose soon. And I still have drawings to finish, eventually. All that really leaves me with little spare time."

He gestured toward the guards, and they moved in sync, stepping aside to give him space. He stood in the doorway, one hand braced lightly on the frame as if steadying himself.

"I'm glad you're all alright," his voice was so empty it felt almost tender. He could feel the room tightening around him, the way the air shifted when he'd said it. He meant it- God, he meant it so deeply it hurt- but his tone remained perfectly level, perfectly neutral, perfectly safe. Not a crack in it, in him. Not even a tremor anymore. Just a steady monotone that didn't match the hurricane pressing into the back of his ribs.

They all stared, and no one breathed for a moment. And Steve forced himself- literally forced, pulling the movement up from somewhere far away- to give them the smallest, polite, nothing smile. The kind of smile people give strangers in the grocery store.

He could feel Dustin's heartbeat speed up, Eleven's too. Joyce's had gone sharp and painful around the edges. Wayne's… Wayne's was the worst; it thudded now with a weight Steve didn't want to interpret.

Before any of them could speak again, he turned slightly, hands folding neatly behind him like he'd watched Brenner do a thousand times. "If you need anything, you can submit a request, alright? Even if it's just to talk, the guards will send it through the proper channels, I'll make sure of it."

"Steve." Hopper said it like an order, like an attempt to pull him back to the surface of himself. "You don't have to- this isn't-"

But Steve only gave a small shrug, almost robotic. "Protocol, Hop." Hearing the clipped formality come out of his own mouth made something deep inside his chest twist sharply.

He looked anywhere except Wayne, because Wayne was cutting straight through his careful mask, straight through his empty expression, peering at him like he could see every thought Steve didn't dare show them. Wayne always had a way of looking at you like you'd already confessed something, like you couldn't hide even if you wanted to.

And Steve did want to. So badly.

He cleared his throat and took a step back. "Like I said.. I'll come by when I can."

He didn't wait for anyone to speak again, didn't trust himself to stand in that room any longer- surrounded by the people he loved, surrounded by all the things he couldn't let himself want, surrounded by the echo of Eddie's absence, louder than anything else.

Steve walked out with the guards flanking him, head slightly bowed, every step measured.

The moment the heavy doors sealed shut behind him, something in his stance shifted- shoulders tightening, jaw clenching, fingers flexing as he tried to bleed the tension out of them.

He walked off, not bothering to acknowledge the guards as they stayed posted at the door. He walked and walked, until he stood inside the stairwell- this little corner of the facility designated as his own little "safe zone", a little ironic bubble where he could pretend he had privacy without being in his room. He shut the door behind him, leaning his back heavily against it, and let out a breath that left him shaking.

His heart was still racing. Too fast, uncomfortable, wrong.

Steve pushed off the door and began pacing the small landing, back and forth, back and forth, a tight restless loop. He dragged one ring-heavy hand through his hair, tugging at the strands with increasing frustration. He kept replaying the room- Dustin's wide eyes, Jonathan's question, Hopper's attempt to reason with him, Wayne's.. Wayne's stare like a knife carving straight into his heart.

He couldn't think about Eddie. -Stop.-
He couldn't think about their bond, the empty place where it used to warm and pulse. -Stop it.-
He couldn't think about the cold that strangled him the moment he'd woken up alone.

-Shut up! Stop it!-

Steve moved faster, pacing like the movement might keep his brain from slipping into that pit again. He dug a thumb into the base of his wrist, feeling the pulse stutter against his touch. He tried to breathe evenly. Deep breath in… Deep breath out…

It didn't work.

"Fuck," he whispered, voice cracking before flattening again.

He sucked in another deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly.

This wasn't the time to fall apart. Not yet.

Not until every piece was lined up exactly where it needed to be. Not until he could do what needed to be done. Not until… Not until he had Eddie.

He drew a hand down his face, smearing tears he hadn't realized were falling under his lashes. Then he straightened up, wiping his hands on his jeans even though they weren't dirty, and let out another deep breath.

"Okay," he murmured to himself. "Back to work."

The emptiness folded over him like a blanket as he stepped off the landing and up to the stairs, leaving behind the fading scent of his friends, and the echo of a name he couldn't bring himself to mention to them.

---

Steve went back to his room, but only for a moment. He needed air- fake, recycled, filtered through the vents sure- but he needed something that wasn't the heavy grief sitting under his ribs. He needed to wash his face, change his clothes, shake off the parts of himself that had nearly cracked in front of everyone. He pushed open his bathroom door and flicked on the light, immediately stepping toward the sink.

He braced both hands on the cold rim, head bowed. For a long beat, he simply watched the water droplets slipping down his wrists from where he'd rinsed them in nervous habit. His reflection looked back, pale under the harsh lights, eyes too bright from stress and the ever-present ache inside. -Alright, Harrington. Pull it together. Just pretend it's the Upside Down or… Or one of Eddie's games.- He could almost hear Eddie's voice explaining the campaign he'd been working on, hands moving, excitement radiating from him. Steve's throat tightened. -Gotta remember every lesson he gave me.. For him.-

He straightened, running both hands through his hair, again and again, trying to tame the disheveled strands. The motion gave him a moment to breathe, to focus, to settle his rattled nerves through the familiar drag of heavy rings. -Okay… Phase one: make sure they're.. Alive, unhurt.. Completed.- He mentally checked the box. Now came the part where Eddie would've called something stupid, would've mocked him with that crooked, gentle grin, calling something absurd just to watch his face twist trying to decipher him. Steve frowned, brows bunching tight as he tried to recreate the memory. -Now to.. Enter the dragons, no.. No… Question the locals?-

He groaned loudly, dropping his forehead down to the cold sink with a heavy thunk. -No, that won't work. Not now at least. So.. Recon? Recon.. Yeah.. Yeah. Phase two: gather information. Just gotta be.. Stealthy. Already set that in motion. I'm..- He let out a deep sigh and suddenly pushed himself away from the sink. "I'm going insane," he grumbled under his breath, voice thin and strained as he stalked out of the bathroom.

"I just.. Need a minute." He sighed, dropping heavily onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath him but offered no comfort. -I need you.- He let the thought drift by softly, as if someone else was thinking it. He let himself fall backward, staring up blankly at the ceiling. The overhead lights buzzed annoyingly, the kind of sound that burrowed into the spaces between thoughts. -I need you here with me.- His chest tightened, ribs protesting, but the pressure only fed his restless energy, winding him tighter. -We could do it all.. If you were here.-

His nostrils flared. Suddenly, he surged up off the bed with a frustrated snarl. -Fuck this!- The door handle rattled beneath his grip before he yanked it open, slamming it behind him. Steve marched straight down the hall, half-formed thoughts spiking like static. -I'm gonna fucking figure it out.- He took the first tight too sharply and practically bounced off the wall, palms slapping the concrete to steady himself. -All of it. The secrets. The paper. Eddie.- Another turn- left, then right- until he reached the end of the hall. A black metal door loomed with a single centered plaque reading "Steven". He scowled at it, fitting the same key as his bedroom into the lock with enough force that it almost snapped.

The light flicked on overhead, stabbing into his eyes. He shut the door gently behind him- far gentler than the rest of his movements- then scanned the room quickly. -Nothing has been disturbed-, not that he expected they would risk it, but he checked anyway, gaze darting across every surface. The office was bigger than any one person needed, bigger than his one upstairs too, and it always reminded him of his father's space- a showpiece of status disguised as utility. The massive dark wooden desk sat dead center, its polished surface nearly gleaming despite the clutter he'd left days ago. Behind it two bookshelves sagged with the weight of overstuffed binders, warped folders, and ancient-looking hardbacks. Papers covered the table to his left in a chaotic sprawl. To his right, a smaller shelf brimmed with random trinkets he'd found interesting or been gifted- most of them meaningless, but he found himself looking to them anyway.

He took a deep breath in as he rounded the desk, dropping heavily into the surprisingly comfortable chair that creaked under his weight. -Alright… I can hope this is easier than I think.. Right?- He leaned down, flicking on the power strip for the computer, the whir of the machine spinning on filling the otherwise still room. As soon as the login screen appeared, his fingers flew, easily typing the memorized credentials. He opened program after program with frantic efficiency, the dual screens flipping past so fast the light flickered across his face like harsh strobes.

-Seven-H-J-Twelve. Seven-H-J-Twelve.- He whispered it internally like a charm, a tether. His eyes darted across search results, across lists of file names, across security prompts, internal maps, and archived projects. Every dead end had him wanting to punch a hole in the wall, bite something, someone, anything. -If I was a file I wouldn't want anyone to find,- he hummed as he scrolled through another file, -where would I…… Shit.- His jaw tightened until it creaked, fangs aching beneath his gums as he leaned back in the chair.

After nearly an hour of digging- maybe longer he isn't sure- Steve shut the computer down with a frustrated slam of his palm, the quiet beep of its tone sounding almost mocking. "I know exactly where you are," he whispered, pushing away from the desk. -Now just to.. Shit!- His fingers raked through his hair again, pulling hard enough to sting. Nothing today was going the way he'd laid out in his head this morning. His 'perfect' plan was bleeding through cracks he hadn't anticipated. And that meant risk. Too much risk. -I'll adapt, always do.. Figure it out. I'll.. I'll figure it out.-

He rubbed roughly at the back of his neck, rolling his head until it cracked. He had to… To… Do something. But everything in him felt jagged and scrambled, all instinct and no clarity.

Suddenly he moved, almost violently: grabbing files from the table, scooping loose papers into folders that didn't match, shoving documents into stacks that made no organizational sense whatsoever. He didn't need organization right now- just props. Just enough to sell the story. He grabbed several personnel files, stacking them haphazardly on his arm. Some folders were stuffed with notes, others contained old investigations into low-level staff, some had nothing important at all. Good. He didn't want anything important- just things that looked like they could be.

Steve raked a rough hand through his hair one more time, deliberately mussing it. His reflection in the blackened computer monitor showed a wild-eyed, frantic version of himself.

-Perfect.-

With a nod to himself he left the office without looking back, leaving it in a state of chaos that made his stomach twist- too messy, too exposed- but that was part of the role now. He hurried down the hallway, clutching the files to his chest, letting his breath come just a bit faster, shallower, so the guards would read it as panic instead of what it really was. As he rounded the corner toward the main elevator, he forced his expression into one of frazzled urgency and flashed the guards an overly sweet smile.

"Hi," he chirped, shifting the stack of folders as if struggling. Both guards had straightened immediately at his approach. "Would one of you mind calling the elevator for me? And then hitting that little star button? I need to get to Doctor Brenner asap."

The woman to his left quickly complied, swiping her card and calling the elevator down. "Oh, thank you!" he added, voice bright and too chipper. When she leaned in to swipe again for his floor, he gave her another grateful nod. "Thanks!"

The moment the door sealed shut, his smile vanished, face sliding into a blank, controlled nothingness. He held it, letting himself breathe. Just until the elevator dinged open on the upper floor.

No matter how many times he came up here, his skin crawled. The air felt more alive, too open. But he forced the unease down, moving quickly down the long hallways to that familiar metal door.

Now that he was away from prying eyes- or cameras, he shifted the folders to one arm, swiped his card, and slipped inside.

He didn't pause, just hurried down the private hallway. He needed to get this done, get it out of the way before he lost the nerve. He slid into the private elevator that was, thankfully, already there, and pressed the button for the twelfth floor. But as soon as the door opened, he shifted the folders right back into both hands, back to looking like he was struggling to clutch the information within. He hurried quickly down the halls, two lefts, a right, then straight down the main hall to the middle door. There was a single heartbeat inside- calm, unbothered. He popped his lips, a tiny repetitive motion trying to calm his nerves, before kicking the door lightly.

"It's me! My hands are a little full and I was needing your help!" He called out. It took less than a minute for the door to open, revealing Brenner looking unexpectedly concerned.

"Steven? Is everything alright?"

"Can I come in?" He quickly asked, eyes darting down the hall like he expected someone to be hiding in the shadows.

"Yes, of course," the man hurried to step aside.

"Thanks." He brushed past him, clutching the files close. From the corner of his eye, he watched the man close the door, then tracked every step he took back to the desk before turning to face him with wide, restless eyes. "Okay, so.. I'm really needing your help with something. I visited our guests, but then.. No, it's- okay, let's try- So I went to my office and-" He let himself stutter, words jumbling together until Brenner cut in gently.

"Steven, calm down. Tell me what's going on."

Steve popped his lips again, biting his bottom lip as he appeared to pull himself together. "I.. Okay, so.. I went to visit everyone, brought them some books and all that. It was… Overwhelming, with all the scents and whatnot, but it had a thought popping into my head. Something about the man who helped Edward and me." His gaze flicked to the files in his arms. "So I went to my office. I spent.. I don't know, hours? Looking through the files we have uploaded and through the ones on my desk too. But I've gotten nowhere. Well, I have a few leads but nothing concrete. So then I…" He swallowed, looking down like he might crumble. "Well, I went into the deeper files in our system and.. I think I may have another lead, a solid one, but it looks to be in your.. Personal.. Files." He rushed to continue, hands shaking just slightly. "And I didn't want to just go and try to find it without your permission. I didn't want you to worry or anything. But I think I'm really close to figuring out who he is, and if I can do that, then I can make sure to 'take care of' our problem and patch any holes he might still be able to exploit and- and then I-" He gulped in air, like he'd forgotten to breathe in his rush to get it all out.

Brenner leaned back, brows knitting in through, though he still looked worried. "I see.." He murmured.

Steve let himself breathe shallowly, clutching the files like a lifeline. His brows knit, his eyes wide and fragile. "I didn't want to upset you by asking either but…" He lowered his voice. "I really think I'm onto something."

Brenner waved a dismissive hand. "No, no, you didn't upset me Steven. I'm merely thinking it over. You have a good point. Finding out who he is and how he managed to do everything under our noses is something we absolutely need to do. But if he's down in my personal files… It's for a reason. More than likely, he worked on something classified." He finally looked up, meeting Steve's eyes. "But I can trust you with what you might find, can I not?"

Steve nodded, slow and almost hopeful. "Of course you can. Your goal is my goal, my goal is yours." He forced a weak smile. "I can handle whatever it is I find, you know that."

Brenner studied him, then nodded, glancing back to his computer monitor. "I know. But some of it may be.. Disturbing," he cautioned. "Things that might upset you- projects that might disgust you or-"

"I routinely gut open men whose only crime is looking at me when I'm having a bad day." He interrupted flatly. "I rip apart monsters. I drink blood from a wine glass. I risked my life by admitting I have feelings for a man. I think I can handle whatever it is I find in there."

"Even if it's about you?" Brenner asked with a raised brow.

He pretended to think on it, looking toward the ceiling for a second before locking eyes with him again. "Yes. Even if it's about me. Even if it's about things they were doing to do, or did, to me. The things I've done. The things I will do. I'll be fine. I just-…" He took a deep breath, steadied himself. "I need to do this. I need to figure out who he is and how he did it. I need to patch whatever holes he may have made and… I just need to do something.. Be useful."

"Oh.. Steven." Brenner sighed quietly, opening his desk drawer. He retrieved a set of keys before standing and walking around the desk. He placed a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder. "Come on then. I've changed the organization system since I last had you brought there. I'll show you how to find whatever it is you need."

---

They took two flights of a private staircase down- faster than the elevator, and Brenner always preferred the sense of control that came with stairs. Steve followed closely, still clutching his stack of files, heart beating a little too fast from the thrill of it all. His mind buzzed with the same bright, sharp current that had carried him through hours of searching: tight focus, purpose, a rush of needing to do something. Anything. Something to keep the cold in his chest from settling heavy again.

They reached a room that looked like nothing more than a storage room for expensive equipment. A normal person would've glanced at it and moved on. But Steve knew better- even if he'd only been called in once before, even if he'd never figured out how to open it.

Brenner leaned in, brushing past Steve's shoulder with the easy familiarity of someone who had done this hundreds of times, and pressed his fingertips against a tiny bump in the concrete. It was almost invisible- nothing more than a raised irregularity in the wall of grey.

Immediately, he could hear the gears in the wall begin turning, the low grinding sound echoing in his ears. A moment later, there was a quiet hiss, and the entire concrete panel slid back and open for them. He let out a soft hum, eyes widening with the polite awe Brenner always liked to see. "Neat," he smiled, tipping his head just the way he knew the older man expected.

Brenner gave a low, warm chuckle- barely audible, but there. A rare thing that was happening too often these days. He stepped around Steve and walked inside, hands clasped behind his back like a proud curator showing off his museum.

As soon as Brenner crossed the threshold, the overhead lights kicked on in sequence- white bars of fluorescence flickering away row after row, after row, revealing more and more of the cavernous room. Steve's breath caught. He'd forgotten just how massive this place was.

Shelves stretched back so far he couldn't see where it ended. Weapons of every conceivable make hung on racks or lay spread out in rows- experimental prototypes, foreign imports, heavily modified hybrids. Metal tables groaned under the weight of dismantled machines in varying states of dissection. There were file cabinets lined up in perfectly organized rows, so many that Steve lost count halfway through scanning the first side of the aisle. Even old milk crates were filled with loose folders stacked three, four high, looking as though they might topple if breathed on. And he knew- because he remembered now- there was a staircase deeper in, one that led into darker, heavier levels of secrecy he'd only ever glimpsed at.

And something in here smelled… Wrong.

Not dangerous. Not like the Upside Down. Not chemical.

Just. Wrong.

Something in here had history, weight, a residue that clung to the back of Steve's throat. It had the hairs on the back of his neck rising, and he didn't know why. But he'd find out. He always did.

"Now," Brenner began, turning, but he paused when he saw Steve's expression- wide eyes, mouth open just slightly, taking in the overwhelming view.

"Ah," Brenner sounded almost.. Fond. "Yes. There are.. A few more files than before."

-A few.- He thought dryly. There had to be tens of thousands.

"But I believe you'll be able to manage. They're all- Well, most of them are labeled. I did finally have time to organize all my different store rooms once you were gone and decided to move them all in here."

Steve nodded slowly, still staring around, now glad he hadn't tried one of the other rooms. His voice came several seconds delayed, even though he'd opened his mouth. "Yeah.. Um.. It's a lot." He swallowed, shifting his grip on the files. "Do I… Have a time limit?"

Brenner waved the concern away, already strolling between two towering shelving units. Steve hurried after him. "No, no time limit. You have free range down here, and I trust you'll use it wisely."

Steve nodded again- quick, obedient. His fingers twitched with the urge to flip through every drawer immediately. Or maybe- he just really wanted to test out that pretty-looking gun he'd passed by.

"So," Brenner continued, motioning around vaguely. "The system had changed since the last time you saw it. I had far too many scattered records, so I consolidated everything the best I could."

His voice grew lighter, drifting somewhere close to a proud lecture.

"Up here is the general collection: project summaries, ongoing works, employee files- mostly current- performance logs too, lab reports, various materials from the Rainbow Room and the old Grey Room, and miscellaneous recovered documents."

Steve tried to follow the gestures, but Brenner's "miscellaneous" section alone spanned half a wall, from what he could see.

"And down below," Brenner kept going, turning his head in the direction of the unseen staircase, "are the classified archives. More delicate material. Projects still in development, prototypes requiring the utmost secrecy, sealed investigations, older medical records, and anything I deemed too important or volatile for open access."

A quiet thrill ran up Steve's spine.

Not excitement.

Not fear.

Something sharper. Colder.

Brenner held up the ring of keys, letting them chime softly in the echoing space. His attention snapped to them and he watched them carefully.

"There are several restricted sectors," Brenner explained. "This ring opens all of them. Every cabinet, every locked case, every vault. Some drawers are double-locked. Some rooms require two separate keys."

He gave Steve a small, pointed smile- a mix between fondness and a warning.

"And you mustn't lose these. I made no duplicates for a reason."

Steve nodded quickly, reverently, as though being handed relics. Inside though, the cold part of him took note- every key, every lock, every hinted-at vault. He could almost map it. But outwardly, he looked overwhelmed, grateful, very much a young man desperately eager to help.

His voice came out soft, thin, honest-sounding. "Right. Yes. I-I won't lose them."

Brenner's hand landed briefly on his shoulder- a paternal squeeze that had once felt comforting, before Steve learned better. "Good."

Steve inhaled, slow and unsteady, letting his eyes sweep across row after row once more. It looked chaotic, but he could already sense the patterns- old projects grouped by year, departments clustered by color, sections arranged in spiraled blocks of decreasing clearance.

He could pick out three vantage points ideal for hiding something. Two filing cabinets that had been moved recently. A shelf of crates with dust patterns suggesting one had been slid free in the last forty-eight hours.

His brain felt electric.

And somewhere, buried in this labyrinth- behind metal, paperwork, and Brenner's trust- was the key to it all. Seven-H-J-Twelve.

He just had to look like he was searching for their "mystery man” to get it.

Notes:

If you're screaming at me for more background on why Steve is so trusted in the lab and what he's done.. Well, good news! That'll be coming in your future.

Chapter 46: Flashes Of Fate

Summary:

What does it all mean?
What is any of this supposed to be?

Is this all just a test?

Notes:

I get quite a few Tumblr Dms and try to answer all of them, but this one had me thinking others might want to know too so quick Q&A.
-Got a question on why this story is so disjointed and back & forth.
Answer: The story is from Steve's perspective. He's a bit.. Y'know, not all there, but there's a purpose to it all, promise!

 

Also I said this story was a slow burn, I didn't say when the slow burn was.

It started slow. Brenner gave him the keys, a pat on the shoulder, and a request for the occasional update.

And then he was alone.

The silence was a heavy, dust-coated blanket the second Brenner’s footsteps got far enough away he could tune them out. For a moment Steve didn’t dare move, certain this was a trap. He simply stood there with the keys warm in his palm- heavy with implication, heavy with trust, heavy with his own promises. But he shook it all off.

The first thing he did was stretch out his senses. Steve closed his eyes and let his hearing expand, until it brushed the farthest corners of the floor.

There was the occasional creak from the metal shelves, the low groan of a table far off, even a steady tick-tick-tick of an electric lock vibrating stubbornly somewhere down below. He could hear the phantom scuttle of tiny insects in the walls, the faint hum of old machines locked away, the soft whisper of air moving through unseen vents. But there was no familiar whir, no annoying hum. There were no cameras, nothing to spy on him.

Good.

But that feeling of wrong was still clinging to him. A thin, needling itch under his skin. It was subtle but maddening the longer it went on, prickling along the back of his neck every few minutes, like he was being stared at from a direction he couldn’t figure out. And something here was off. It was like.. Like something was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t figure out what it was no matter how hard he tried to focus on it.

So he pushed it down, ignored it all. He didn’t have time for hauntings or instinctive warnings. He had a mission, even if that mission had… Layers.

-Phase two: in progress.-

Steve decided to start with the surface level of things- current employee files. It was exactly where someone earnest would begin, so he positioned himself there first opening multiple of the squeaky metal drawers, pulling out several files at random, flipping pages loudly just to hear where it would echo off from, then scattering them on a table he made out of old boxes. It looked as though he were frantic, trying to follow half a dozen threads at once. He left files lying around the makeshift table, pages spread out, things mixed around.

Then he directed his attention elsewhere, moving to another filing cabinet, checking the labels, finding the collections of ongoing works and lab reports mixed together. The first stack he pulled nearly toppled in his hands- thick binders packed with tightly clipped papers. So he made several disorganized piles on the floor, purposefully sloppy. He shoved a few cabinets open with his hip, just a little too hard so they rattled. He wanted the mess to look authentic, like he was spiraling deeper and deeper onto a train. An obsession.

Because technically… He was.

Just not the kind Brenner thought.

He read over everything he touched- project outlines, uniform repair logs, expense reports, disciplinary records, handwritten notes pinned together with rusting staples. He skimmed through the dissection reports of a demodog, its anatomy annotated nearly in red pen. He read evaluations of ‘psychic residue’ left on damaged walls, documented by some specialist he’d never met.

Then he found something he hadn’t expected, though he should have- an analysis file of him from his time without memories. Detailed, clinical, occasionally cold enough to make the edges of his vision blur in a surge of anger. He closed the folder so fast dust puffed out around it- after he finished reading, of course, just in case.

Some files were.. Disgusting didn’t cover it. Some were horrifying. Some were so strange they itched at the back of his skull. But he devoured them anyway, picking out anything that might mention someone fitting their ‘mystery man’, or Seven-H-J-Twelve, or him. If it had even a hint or seemed like it could be connected, he put it into a special- but small- pile.

But there was nothing. Not yet, at least. Nothing directly pointing him in any which direction.

Steve dragged out files from the precariously balanced milk crates; some had documents so old their labels curled off. He knelt on the cold concrete, flipping through yellowed pages with inhuman speed, eyes flicking over print like a scanner- though sometimes he had to do it three or four times just to remember what he’d read. He circled back, repeatedly, cross-referencing projects with personnel files, matching dates to reports, matching reports to strange incidents. Every time something connected in a way that didn’t feel random, he rushed to find any kind of companion file; those that were matched were stacked neatly to the side.

In the grand picture, he hadn’t made it far at all. Maybe a quarter of the first floor files, at best. Maybe less. But the floor around him looked like a storm of paper had ripped through. Loose sheets covering most of the floor, files sat in precarious towers, labels hung out of drawers, and a milk crate lay tipped on its side, its contents spilled like guts.

To any outside eyes, it looked like he was drowning himself in research, like he was desperate to help, frantic to patch a hole he couldn’t find.

But to Steve?

It all felt like he was scratching the surface of something he couldn’t quite see.

And it still wasn’t enough.

He’d spent so long down here- hours that he didn’t notice passing him by- that the fluorescent lights buzzed dimmer for a moment- some automatic cycle he vaguely remembers happening late at night. Long enough that the faint smell of dinner from the cafeteria had become a distant echo three floors up. Steve realized, only when his stomach cramped slightly- not from hunger but from irritation- just how long he’d been here.

He’d missed dinner and by the smell of it- at least three hours.

Still, he wasn’t even close to stopping.

His fingers were stained with ink from old mimeographs, his nails were chipped from prying stubborn drawers open, and his hair now stuck up in messy tousled waves. But his eyes, they felt too wide, too bright.

Somewhere in the back of his mind.. A quieter thought pulsed.
-Eddie would hate seeing me like this.-
-Eddie would tell me to slow down. To eat. To sleep. To stop acting like the world ends if I blink.-
-Eddie…-

He shoved it down harshly, refocusing so fast the motion was almost dizzying.

He flipped open another binder.

Then another.

Then another, papers fluttering around him like feathers as he ripped through the filing system.

---

“HmmHmmHmHmmmm.”

The sound drifted through the warm air, faint and almost lazy, like someone humming without thinking- like someone who didn’t realize they weren’t alone… -Wait.. Warm? I’m.. I’m warm?-

Steve blinked, slow and disoriented, his eyelashes dragging heavily as he struggled to focus. The light was soft, too golden. Above him looked like.. His ceiling? The faint water stains blooming, pale cracks spiderwebbing.

“HmHmmHmHm.”

His brows furrowed as the humming threaded itself around him. His brain felt stuffed with cotton as he tried to place it. A voice, yes, a voice that sounded familiar- but wrong. It couldn’t be. Couldn’t.

He pushed himself slowly up onto his elbows with a groan, the blanket sliding off his shoulders. The room swayed, his stomach flipped, and he almost fell back when he looked to his right.

“E…” His throat clogged on the word. The name. His heart lurched painfully against his ribs. “Eddie?” It came out as a soft whisper, cracked and unsure, but the moment he said it- he knew. Because the person sitting near the window wasn’t the off-version he’d been forced to look at. It wasn’t the almost-right face or the too-perfect posture. It wasn’t the ghost he’d been fed like scraps.

It was him.

His Eddie.

Alive.

Breathing.

Sitting in his window seat like it was something he always did on slow mornings, hunched over a notebook balancing on his thighs, a pencil tapping rhythmically as he hummed through an unfamiliar melody.

But the moment Eddie looked up- Steve’s lips wobbled.

Because this was wrong. Something in Eddie’s eyes was wrong. This was his boyfriend, was his Eddie. But his eyes.. They were hollow, cold, like the light couldn’t reach them. “Oh.. You’re awake.” Eddie’s tone was flat, bored almost, the kind of voice he’d use when someone interrupted him for something stupid- never with Steve.

Steve suddenly surged forward before he could think about it. “Eddie?” His voice cracked again, sharp with panic. He shoved the blanket aside, practically tripping over his own legs in his desperation to get off the bed, kicking frantically to try and untangle the blanket from around him. “Eddie?!”

He fell to his hands and knees with a heavy thud, scrambling back up, and closing the distance in a few frantic steps. His hands lifted out- but his fingers curled back at the last second, unsure if his touch was welcome. He hovered, shaking, like a man scared to touch a ghost in case it vanished.

“You’re… You’re here?” His voice trembled. “Eddie- how are you here?”

Eddie looked up at him with that blank, almost bored expression. “Hope you don’t mind me borrowing one of your notebooks.” His gaze slid off Steve like water. Like… Like he didn’t matter. “Had an idea for a song.” He turned back to the book.

Steve stared at his still ring-heavy hands, the slight shaking he could mistake for a twitch. “Eds…” His voice cracked. “Eddie.” When he didn’t get a reaction, frustration burned hot in his chest, nostrils flaring, jaw clenching.

Then he moved.

He cupped Eddie’s face in both hands- gentle, careful, but with a trembling firmness that begged. Eddie’s face was warm beneath his palms. Alive. Real. “Eddie… How are you here?” He whispered, voice so small, pleading now. “Please.. I.. I need- just answer me.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched, muscle twitching briefly. “Steve.” His name, it snapped, sharp, edges like broken glass. Slowly, too slowly, Eddie’s eyes dragged up to meet his. And for a moment, they were so full of life, but it was.. Sad. Aching. “I don’t even know where here is.”

Steve inhaled sharply, like the air had been punched out of him. “Eddie where-”

Then Eddie’s eyes flickered.

Red.

Just for a second- too fast to be impossible. Blood appeared splattered across his cheek in the same blink, like someone flicked paint across his face, then dirt- dark, smeared, wrong- appeared and vanished again across his jawline.

“Eddie?” He whispered, voice cracking into something terrified. He took one step back, senses spiking, trying to assess, trying to understand what the hell was going on.

Eddie smiled.

But it was too wide. Too sharp. Wrong.

And then he lunged. Claws outstretched toward Steve’s throat, eyes a violent inhuman red, fangs bared-

Steve jerked up with a strangled gasp, hands flying up instinctively toward his neck.

The cold metal of the filing cabinet slammed against the back of his head as he bolted upright, breath coming in violent, ragged bursts. The room around him spun, shelves and boxes and dim overhead lights smearing together. His chest heaved.

But he was alone.

His hands shook so hard the rings clinked against each other. The dream- because it was just a dream- clung to him like a wet cloth. Because it was too real, too vivid, too close. With a groan, Steve scrubbed a hand down his face, pressing his fingers into his eyes. Sleep grit clung to his lashes and he arched his neck to try and ease it from the angle he’d been slumped in.

It was just… He’d fallen asleep.

Down here, leaning against a filing cabinet of all things.

-What had I been…?- He blinked slowly, head thunking back once more. -Right.- He’d gotten some.. Some feeling that something in this one would help him, and he’d found a file he thought would contain what he needed. It was resting half-open across his lap still, “P-8” stamped in red across the top. He blinked down at it through the lingering haze of leftover fear. It was useless, just another dead end- information about some former subject he didn’t know. Nothing helpful.

His head thunked back against the metal again. How long had he been asleep? How long had he been down here? His throat tightened painfully, breath hitching. The dream replayed in rough jagged flashes- the sound of Eddie humming, the void in his eyes, the sudden twist of violence. The way Steve had felt so sure it was real. The way he’d reached, desperate, hopeful, terrified.

Eddie.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

And the feeling he’d been ignoring- that wrongness in the air down here, the itch crawling beneath his skin- tightened like a fist around his ribs. He swallowed hard, staring down at the scattered papers around him. He needed to figure this out.

Before the dreams weren’t the only thing chasing him.

---

File P-8 led him to 32, which led him to 42, which led him to 15, and 12, and then 93, then 16, and 5- each one branching off like some sadistic maze of cross-references that mocked him with their uselessness. Subjects he didn’t recognize. Dead ends disguised as leads. Old experiments that had nothing to do with the man he was hunting.

Steve finally snapped.

With a hiss through his clenched teeth, he hurled a stack of files to his left and across the room. Papers burst into the air like startled birds, spiraling down over overturned boxes and milk crates already half buried in discarded pages. The sound echoed down here, bouncing back to him sharp and accusing.

A rough snarl ripped up his throat- nostrils flaring, fangs aching to rip through his gums, claws pulsing just under the surface. It took effort- far too much effort- to keep them from coming out. “There’s nothing!” He growled out. “Nothing here- nothing-” he squeezed his eyes shut hard enough to see flashes of white. -Deep breath in… 1.. 2.. 3.. Deep breath out… 1.. 2.. 3.. And again. Deep breath in….. Deep breath out…..-

His chest caught on the last exhale.

“Just a break.. I need a break,” he muttered, voice cracking. He dragged a rough hand through his hair, tugging the ends until his scalp stung. “I need…” He eyes the ring of keys Brenner had left him with. “A break,” he repeated, softer but firmer now. “Then I need to organize and-...”

He nudged the nearest pile with his foot, sending it toppling over and skidding across the floor. The sound felt louder than it should and he let his eyes fall closed for one long second. -I was never the one to plan, to research. I can’t focus for shit. I’m lucky I got this far, but this is… It’s just too much.-

No matter what, he knew he couldn’t stop, knew he wouldn’t. No matter how hard it got. But the nagging feeling of wrong kept crawling up the back of his neck, kept nudging him forward. Something rotten buried under dust and metal. With a loud, dramatic sigh, he pushed himself up, grabbed the keys, shoved them into his pocket, and made his way back to that hidden wall. Thankfully, this side had a noticeable button- he slammed his palm against it and didn’t want for the wall to fully retract; he just squeezed out the moment there was room, leaving behind a disaster zone of scattered files and open drawers.

The clock above the storage room’s door read eight-thirty. Morning? Night? Did it matter? His bones felt hollow, his head felt too light, his senses were stretched thin but still buzzing, jittery- like he was riding a second wind mixed with exhaustion. Steve rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck side to side, and headed off down the hall with a stiff shuffle. -I just.. Need a little break. Need to not look at tiny letters and numbers or yellowing pages for a little while. Maybe get something to eat. Actually.. Yeah.-

He shifted toward the stairs, taking each step slowly, giving himself time to think, and to calm down. -It’ll probably be down below- he blinked slowly, thoughts coming as slow as he felt right now. -There are fewer records down there so.. Well.. I probably should’ve started there first but.- He shrugged to himself, almost laughing but too tired to make the sound. -Okay. So.. Maybe another cabinet or two up top, then I head down and just.. What? Tear through it? What if it isn’t there either? What is… What if it’s all just in my head?... What if it hadn’t been recorded? What if-

He stopped mid-step, staring down at his shoe. It was… Dirtier than he remembered. Scuffed. Had he done that climbing cabinets? Had he stepped in something or had he-? -If the file isn’t there. What do I do?- He blinked once, twice, then quietly resumed walking. -Cross that bridge when… If. If I come to it.-

He had to switch stairwells several times, which was nothing new- annoying, but better than the suffocating closeness of an elevator. Besides, going down was far easier anyway. -I should know. I’m the expert after all.- It all just felt mechanical by now, his body moving on autopilot with the endurance that- even after all these years, now that he remembers them that is, it still amazed him- didn’t quite shield him from exhaustion but kept him going beyond where a normal person would’ve collapsed.

Finally, he stepped out onto a familiar floor. Unlike the dim lights in the stairwell, the sterile lighting stabbed into his eyes he let out a soft sigh in annoyance, blinking rapidly to adjust. He gave tired nods to guards who straightened at his presence. But finally, he was slipping into an all too familiar dining room with a quiet groan, shoulders sagging under an invisible weight.

“Ah, Steven. I was beginning to get worried.” Brenner said with far too much energy for whatever hour it was now.

He answered with a noncommittal hum as he dragged himself around the table to collapse into his usual seat. “Sorry, I-” A massive yawn cracked his jaw and forced tears to prick at the corners of his eyes. “Mm. Sorry. Been working on reading through those files.”

“Yes, well, I was about to come down there and check on you.” Brenner folded his hands, leaning back with a casual air Steve didn’t buy for a second. “Apparently, the last anyone- the last time I- saw you was about.. Forty-six hours ago.”

Steve froze, mind stuttering like a scratched record. -Forty… Forty-six hours? No… No, that isn’t- that can’t… Huh.-

“Uh, yeah,” he finally muttered, rubbing his eyes with shaking fingers. “Sorry. I got.. Really into it. Went off on a few tangents that might help with my other project before getting back on track. Guess I just.. Lost time.” He blinked several times, slowly. “Was it really that long?.. Probably why I’m so hungry. Last time I ate was breakfast with you.”

His eyes snapped to the glass of blood the moment its scent hit his nose, watching as the waiter came around and set it next to him. It was rich, metallic, not human but.. It smelt just as good. His fingers gently curled around the warm glass, almost possessively, hands trembling as he brought it closer. A sudden hunger clawed up his throat; he’d gotten so used to drinking whenever he wanted that going without now was like torture. Exhaustion was suddenly weighing in on him.

He held the glass like it might slip away, shoulders unconsciously loosening with the scent, but it also had his stomach twisting, and fangs pressing faintly against his lower lip. The warmth radiating through the glass sank into his cold palms; it was almost painful.

“Thank you,” he murmured to the waiter, the words scraping out low of his suddenly too dry throat.

Brenner watched him with that quiet, evaluative stillness Steve had grown to understand- an old, familiar weight pressing between his shoulders. But there was concern there too, tucked carefully behind the man’s expression, softened around the edges. Like he was looking at someone who should know better, should take better care, but who he was still oddly proud of. -Sometimes… I don’t understand you at all.-

He lifted the glass and drank deeply- long pulls, slow and steady until the trembling in his hands eased enough that he felt like he could breathe again. The warmth spread to his chest, up the sides of his neck, fuzzing the sharp edges of exhaustion. His eyes drooped suddenly too heavy.

Then, abruptly, he straightened again, blinking hard. “I, uh- sorry. Didn’t mean to inhale it.” He set the empty glass down a little too quickly, the soft clink louder than it needed to be.

“Steven.” Brenner’s tone was light but pointed. “You look… Well, about how someone looks after locking themselves in a basement for two days.”

He huffed out an exhausted almost-laugh. “Yeah.. That checks out.” “And?” Brenner continued, pouring himself a coffee from the pot left on the table with calm, careful movements. “Have you found anything? A lead? A name?” A beat. “You said you believed you were close?”

Steve dragged a hand through his hair- again, and again, disrupting the strands until they stuck up in odd angles. He couldn’t keep still. Every nerve suddenly felt wired, fried, stretched thin and vibrating. His leg bounced under the table. His fingers started tapping against his thigh. His pupils were a hair too blown, and his breathing was coming just a tad too fast.

But he forced a tired, hopeful smile. “Yeah. I mean- maybe? I think so. I followed a line, but it kept branching and looping around itself. Like the system down there was built to be confusing on purpose.” He rubbed at the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand. “Which makes sense, obviously, since it’s you and… Classified stuff and all that but-”

“But it’s slowing you down.” Brenner supplied, brow lifting.

He nodded vigorously, then caught himself, pressing his lips tightly together. “Yeah. I was going through those first floor cabinets and some of the crates, and I found a few things. Mostly, they linked different projects together, but they’re completely different eras, different wings. None of them lined up exactly but- something about the way the names were removed? Or coded? It felt like someone was erasing connections or.. Hiding them.”

Brenner hummed thoughtfully, fingertips steepling. “And do you think this mystery man of ours is connected?”

Steve leaned back, scrubbing down his face with both hands to keep himself awake, before letting them fall limply against his thighs. “I think… Maybe? Or he might be one of the missing connections- someone inserted between two projects that ties them together, or someone who was part of something that got buried deeper than everything else.” He let his head tip sideways. “I don’t know yet. But I can feel that I’m missing something. Missing some connection between it all.” His mind flickered back to the dream- Eddie’s hollow eyes, the blanket look, the blood that wasn’t really there, the lunge-

His stomach twisted sharply, fingers twitching, and he pushed the thoughts down so hard it felt like squeezing a bruise.

Brenner’s voice cut back through the fog. “Forty-six hours without rest is not sustainable, Steven. Even for you. You can’t make connections if you can’t think.”

Steve lifted a shoulder in a tired shrug. “Didn’t feel that long.”

“You fell asleep down there,” Brenner guessed, tone dipping toward exasperated paternal fondness.

Steve paused, then let out a soft grunt of irritation. “Yeah.. Against a filing cabinet. Classy, right?”

Brenner’s lips twitched. “Hardly the worst sleeping arrangement you’ve chosen.”

Steve frowned, almost pouting. “One time.. One time.” Then he sighed, slumping forward until his elbows rested on the table. “I just.. Got fixated. I thought I found a connecting thread, and then it kept leading nowhere. But I’m close, I can feel it. I swear, I’m close.”

“And your motivation?” It was asked actually, too casually.

He didn’t miss the subtle test.

With a groan, he lifted his head, let exhaustion dull his expression, let his shoulders sag in what looked like vulnerability. “I want to help,” he murmured. “I want to do my part. You trusted me down there, with your files, your keys. I want to show you that I’m back for real, that I deserve it. I want to make sure we’re protected. That nothing like that happens again. I want… I want the life that you promised we could achieve if I said yes.”

Brenner’s eyes softened.

That was the thing- Steve didn’t have to lie. He just had to give truths in the wrong order.

“I believe you.” Brenner’s voice was gentler than before. “But if you collapse again, you’ll be of no use to anyone. Eat. Rest. Then return to it. I won’t let anyone go down there to disturb your work, myself included.”

Steve nodded, pushing a hand through his hair again. “Yeah.. Okay. Just… A short break.”

He leaned back as the staff brought in their breakfast- eggs, toast, pancakes, and a second glass of blood, just something light for him- his hands trembled more violently than before as he reached for the fork. His stomach knotted together with hunger and nausea but he forced himself to eat; Brenner watched until he’d gotten down a few bites.

His head felt thick, heavy, fogged with a mix of hunger, mental strain from all that reading, an adrenaline crash, and the echoes of that dream.

Eddie’s voice still clung to him.

I don’t even know where here is.

Steve swallowed hard, throat tight. He needed a break- but he also needed to get back down there, soon. Before the thread unraveled, before his plan lost momentum, before Brenner started really questioning him.

Before the dream sank any deeper into him.

---

He blinked slowly at the somehow, already empty plate in front of him, confusion pulling faint lines across his forehead. He didn’t remember eating most of it, let alone all of it. Didn’t even remember lifting the fork really. Time felt like it was sliding out from under him each time he tried to grasp it. His limbs were warm and heavy, like they’d been filled with wet sand. The room now had a soft tilt to it, as if the floor itself was breathing. He tried to sit up straight, but even that felt like too much effort, so he let himself slump back into the chair with a barely audible exhale, shoulders sagging under some invisible weight.

Another blink- or had it been several?- and suddenly Brenner was there, crouched beside him. Steve had no recollection of the man moving, no scrape of a chair, no footsteps, no shifting scents- he was just there, a hand settling against Steve’s cheek, the other braced on the chair’s armrest. The sudden closeness didn’t spark the usual instinctive tension. There was just.. Nothing. Everything felt kind of distant.. Muffled., like a thick glass wall separated him from his mind.

“Steven?” Brenner’s voice cut through the haze, sounding concerned, but it wavered strangely, as if the letters were bending in the air before reaching him.

“Hmm?” The sound came out as nothing more than a breath. His lips felt too heavy and uncooperative for words, almost as if they belonged to someone else. His eyelids drooped again, threatening to close. A faint part of him urged them to stay open, but the energy to fight simply wasn’t there. His head lolled slightly, the weight of it too heavy to hold up.

“StEveN?” The name dragged through an uneven almost mocking distortion. He recognized it- he knew it was his name- but the familiarity floated somewhere behind fog, detached and far away. The world dimmed again as his eyes finally slipped shut. He couldn’t tell if seconds or minutes had passed in this meaningless blur before he heard it again.

“sTevEn?” The pitch sharpened, snapping at the edges of his fading awareness. It tugged at him, pulling him back just enough to register the word, but not enough to bring him into focus. He wanted to respond, tried to, tried to reassure him- I’m okay… I’m just tired… I don’t feel right… Something's wrong… -but the thoughts felt heavy and delayed, stuck in a space between his mind and his body. He couldn’t tell if his mouth moved, if any sound escaped, or if he’d only imagined trying. But just the act of trying seemed to drain the last bit of strength he had, leaving him hollow, floating in a strange disconnected space.

The hand on his cheek suddenly grew warmer. Not hot.. But comfortingly warm, like someone pressing a heated water bottle to his icy cold skin. It felt good, too good, and so he leaned into it- or thought he did. For a moment, he just let himself float, suspended in that warmth, mind drifting somewhere just above the weight of his own body. The dining room, Brenner, the lab- it all faded into a distant hum.

Then the warmth shattered.

A bolt of pain lanced in his chest, explosive and unrelenting, stealing the air from his lungs in a single blow. His body jerked on its own, violent and wrong, like a puppet yanked by unseen strings. It felt as if he were watching himself react from outside his own body. His eyes snapping open- though it was little comfort- the world a smeared blur of light and shadows. He tried to inhale, to drag air into his burning lungs, but couldn’t tell if he actually did. His throat constricted painfully now, breaths stuttering in short, tearing bursts that weren’t enough. Something deep within him burned- a twisting, gnawing pain that spread along his ribs and clawed down his spine as if something alive and hateful was crawling under his skin.

He gasped- or thought he did- as the pain flared hotter, a merciless white-edged inferno that ripped away any lingering thoughts. His eyes rolled back despite his desperate struggle to focus on something, anything- Brenner’s face, the table, a waiter- anything. Sound warped again, Brenner’s voice mixing with the thundering pulse in his ears, each beat slamming like a hammer behind his skull. His limbs spasmed uncontrollably, heavy one second and weightless the next, as though gravity kept changing its rules with every heartbeat.

The warmth on his cheek vanished into the wash of heat cascading over him from the inside out- wrong, blistering, searing through muscle, through bone, down to his very soul. He couldn’t focus on anything except the pain. It swelled and swelled until it seemed to fill the room, swallowing the world in white static.

The last coherent thought he grasped- distant, terrifying, fast fading- was the dim realization that something was definitively, horrifically wrong. Something had been done to him, something insidious and deliberate, and he was powerless against it.

And then the world tilted completely, floor dropping out from beneath him as the white static swallowed him whole.

---

“Sir we aren’t su-”

Beep….. Beep….. Beep….. Beep.

Voices tangled somewhere above him, threading together, too thin, too far away. Something tugged deep in his chest, a slow sink, like his heartbeat was losing interest in keeping time.

“Heart rate is droppi-”
“He isn’t exactly a normal pait-”

Beep…….. Beep……… Beep.

Everything felt as though it were both tilting and draining at the same time, like all the air had slid to one corner and left him stranded on the other side. His limbs buzzed with a faint, dull vibration- no strength, no direction, just the sensation of being aware of his body without the ability to use it.

“Sir, we’re doing wha-”

Beep…………….. Beep……………..

“S-even, can- hear me?”

The voice felt pressed against cotton. He heard it, but it was as if he was underwater, the words becoming broken and stretched thin. He wanted to answer, or blink, or let whoever know he was there- but his thoughts felt syrup-thick, sliding away when he tried to hold onto them.

---

There was a hand running through his hair. Gentle, slow, the pads of fingers warm as they traced small circles over his scalp. A thumb occasionally swept across his forehead- steady, rhythmic, comforting in a way that made his limbs feel loose but heavy. He felt.. Safe, somehow. Safe in a way he hadn’t felt in years- and everything was just so blissfully quiet for once.

A low, content hum slipped out of him before he’d realized it, head tilting instinctively into the warmth pressing against his cheek. A familiar chuckle rose with the motion, the vibrations shaking whatever he was resting on.

“You finally awake, sweetheart?”

It was that voice. That achingly familiar voice that curled around his name like it had been made just to say it. Except.. There was something off about it. His thoughts came sluggish, like something sticky being tugged free -NotEddie.- He slowly cracked his eyes open, lids dragging heavily as if they weighed too much. His vision swam at first, as if he were underwater still, but eventually he noticed a soft smile above him- warm and welcoming.

“Hey there, Stevie.”

The name pulled a tired smile from him before something snagged in the back of his mind, tugging at the moment. His brows pinched as he slowly looked around, trying to figure out exactly how he’d gotten.. Here. He was draped over the other’s lap, one of NotEddie’s arms tucked beneath him as if he’d been cradled there, his cheek pressing against the man’s lower stomach. But the world around them- if it even counted as a world- made his stomach twist.

They weren’t.. They weren’t anywhere.

There was just white. Blinding, endless white. Like someone had erased reality and forgotten to draw in the background. The ground beneath them, white. The sky above them, white. In the distance, in every direction, white. It didn’t even look like light- it looked like absence. Like nothingness wearing a cheap disguise.

A faint frown creased his face as he blinked, slowly up at NotEddie. “Where…” His brows crunched, his voice had scraped out rough, brittle, sounding.. Well, he couldn’t place it, but it was wrong, even to his ears. It was like it was echoing back from somewhere far away. “Where.. Are we?”

NotEddie hummed softly as if the question didn’t matter, gently threading his fingers through Steve’s hair again. “Where do you want us to be, sweetheart?”

“What does that-?” The question didn’t make sense; it felt like he was stumbling over uneven ground just trying to think about it. “What do you mean?” His voice wavered, confusion creeping in even as the gentle touch kept trying to tug him back into the warm, sleepy state.

“Where do you want us to be?” NotEddie repeated, thumb brushing along Steve’s cheek now. “C’mon, Stevie. Don’t think too hard on it.”

But that only made him think more. Why did it matter where he wanted to be? Why did his chest feel both tight and empty? Why did the air feel thick, like he was breathing through a too thin straw? He swallowed- slow, dry. “Well… We’re in the lab, the.. The grey room. Aren’t we?” Even he didn’t think that sounded convincing.

“Mmmhmm. We are.” NotEddie’s eyes softened, almost pitying. “But I didn’t ask where we are. I asked where you want us to be.”

Steve’s lips pressed tightly together. The question shouldn’t have felt heavy, shouldn’t have made his heart ache in a strange, muted way. But something- some fog, some warmth, some invisible pull- kept coaxing him not to worry about it. His voice came as small as he felt. “I… Waynes. I want us to be at Wayne’s.” The dim lamplight, the smell of laundry detergent, and Wayne’s favorite aftershave. Him lying on Eddie’s chest while one of the mixtapes Jonathan made them played so quietly it was barely sound.

The moment he pictured it, the white suddenly cracked apart. Light burst around them, color slamming into places so abruptly he had to clench his eyes shut. His stomach lurched as if gravity had shifted beneath them.

“Shh, it’s okay, Stevie.” The voice smoothed before panic could fully rise, fingers combing through his hair in slow, calming motions. “It’s alright.”

Only when the burning white behind his eyelids eased did he dare open them. What he saw had him sucking in a sharp breath.

They were-... In Eddie’s room.

Perfectly recreated. The posters, the stacked tapes close to toppling, the rumpled blankets, the chipped dresser. NotEddie leaned back against the wall, legs dangling over the side of the bed they were now on, so casual, so familiar, it twisted something sharp behind Steve’s ribs.

“Oh.” His voice was barely a whisper as he glanced back up at that smile again- warm in a way that dug under his skin. “How did you-?”

“I didn’t.” NotEddie murmured, cutting him off. “You did.”

Something cold and heavy slid down Steve’s spine. It felt like a knife. “I…” He pushed himself upright, movements slow and sluggish, and stared around the room as if he’d never seen it before. “What?”

NotEddie laughed quietly, a noise that wrapped around him like a hug. He reached for Steve’s hand, fingers intertwining, rings slotting between each others like they were meant to fit together.

And that was when Steve realized-

There was no pain.

No sharp, icy crackle beneath his skin. No bloom of cold agony every time they touched. Just.. Contact. Warmth even, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Of course, the ever-present cold was still lingering inside him, but now it was like it was.. Muted. As if someone had shoved it behind a wall.

A shiver ran through him.

He twisted to look at the.. Man, being, memory? Hallucination, or something else entirely? Nothing made sense, not the sensations, not the silence, not the perfect recreation of Eddie’s room.

“This is…” His throat tightened. “We’re…” The truth gathered slow and heavy at the back of his mind. “Am I… Dead? Did I- Did I die?”

NotEddie didn’t answer in words- just hummed, soft and noncommittal, bringing Steve’s knuckles to his lips in a gesture far too tender. “Just relax, sweetheart. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

“I…” He swallowed, eyes darting around the room that looked too real to be a hallucination, and too perfect to be real. “I did, didn’t I? I.. Died.”

A soft click of the tongue and NotEddie eased himself forward, hands sliding warm around Steve’s waist, guiding him gently back to sit in his lap. “Shh.” Arms wrapped around him from behind ahead, pulling him in, holding him like he weighed nothing. “It’s all gonna work itself out, Stevie. You don’t need to tie yourself in a knot over it.”

He let out a deep sigh, letting his shoulders loosen just a fraction as he leaned comfortably back against the man’s chest. “If I am.. Then…” His voice drifted off before coming out quiet, but certain. “It doesn’t matter… Does it?”

“Not really, no.” The voice behind him rumbled gently as NotEddie settled his chin over Steve’s shoulder and began to sway them to the faint music still playing- the same tape Eddie had bemoaned, but secretly loved. “Not now.” His body wanted to relax, to sink into it, to let everything go. Panic trickled at the back of his mind, but NotEddie’s tone cut through it, sharp in a way that brooked no argument.

“Steve.” The voice firmed. “Stop worrying.”

His breath hitched- then steadied, almost against his will. He let himself lean back, head resting against a chest that he wasn’t sure was real. But it was warm, comforting. If he were dead, well… What could he do about it? Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the place between. Maybe this was where souls went before whatever came next. And maybe- just maybe- he’d get to finally see the real Eddie again.

There really wasn’t much use in dwelling on any of it- nothing he could change, nothing he could claw his way through or argue with. Whatever this place was, whatever he was right now, the way everything pulsed with a muted warmth instead of that cold agony, the way NotEddie was wrapped around him without that familiar electric pain- it all felt suspended in something soft and impossible.

So Steve let himself relax, let himself melt back into that swaying motion, NotEddie’s arms looped securely around him. The music vibrating quietly through the air like a memory someone else was holding for him, humming faintly against his spine. He let out a faint hum in response, something thoughtless and instinctive, running his palms down over the warm hands resting over his stomach, tracing their knuckles, the familiar rings that matched his own, grounding himself in the contact.

A pleased sound rumbled in the chest behind him, NotEddie’s chin rubbing lightly along Steve’s shoulder, stubble crashing faintly on fabric and skin. “I like this, sweetheart. You and me together, just like this.”

He pressed back against the chest, head tipping sideways until it rested back against NotEddie’s jaw. The sigh that escaped him was loose, unguarded. “You’re not him… But this is.. This is nice. Not him but-...”

“But what?” The thumb sweeping across Steve’s stomach moved in slow circles, comforting and familiar in a way it shouldn’t have been.

His brows pinched. “But…” The thought sprang up and sat heavy in his chest -but you’re starting to sound more like him. More… Real.- More like Eddie than this.. thing.. Ever had. The cadence, the warmth, even the way it breathed. It was getting harder to tell them apart. “Nothing.”

NotEddie hummed like he didn’t believe him for a second, but the man- being- hallucination just shifted behind him, adjusting them both with ease. One arm slid higher across Steve’s ribs, the other settling low at his waist. The sway slowed, becoming more of a gentle rock that matched the music. Steve’s eyes fluttered half-closed, part of him sinking deeper, lulled by the softness radiating from the room. Eddie’s room, Eddie’s bed, the half-cracked posters on the wall, the faint smell of old detergent and cheap cologne lingering like the echo of a memory. He felt almost weightless, like the arms around him were all that kept him up.

NotEddie’s nose nudged behind his ear, breath ghosting warm down his neck. “You’re thinking too much,” he murmured, voice a soft scrape that crawled down Steve’s spine in a way that made him shiver. “Just relax with me.”

-As if it were that easy.- But he found himself practically folding back into the other, he hadn’t even realized how tightly he’d been holding himself until he just.. let go, let his shoulders drop, let himself relax. His hands curled around NotEddie’s fingers over his ribs, thumb stroking absently. For a few long moments, neither of them said anything, they just breathed together or.. Pretended to. His head tipped back slightly, which had the arms around him tightening as if afraid Steve might slip away. Steve let himself turn a little in the man’s lap, letting himself drape across it. There was a comforting pressure on his hip, NotEddie’s hand sliding across his like it belonged.

And God, it felt so much like Eddie. Too much. The way his fingers traced little patterns across Steve’s ribs, the way his hands moved just to touch, the absentminded tapping against his sternum that matched the beat of the low music, the tiny affectionate movements he remembered from nights spent lounging around with Doc or Wayne as they caught up on missed movies. Steve found himself nuzzling into the warmth without thinking, cheek brushing against NotEddie’s collarbone, his hand resting on the other’s knee as he got comfortable sideways across the man’s thighs.

“Better,” NotEddie eventually whispered, voice smoothing out into something almost tender. “Just be here. With me, Stevie.”

Steve swallowed, eyes drifting shut, trying not to think about how real it all sounded. How real it felt. He could almost pretend- not even pretend, just believe- that if he looked up, he’d see Eddie’s curls, Eddie’s bright eyes crinkling at the corners, actual Eddie’s stupid little grin when he knew he was being sappy. But something was off, not wrong exactly, not anymore. Just.. Uncanny. Like looking at a perfect photograph of someone you loved, but knowing the shadow in the corner didn’t belong.

Still, he didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Didn’t want to. He just… Wanted to be happy, even for a little while, even if it wasn’t real.

NotEddie’s fingertips trailed up to his face, tracing the line of his jaw, brushing a thumb along his cheek in slow, thoughtful strokes. Steve’s breath hitched at the gentleness, at the familiarity. “See?” NotEddie whispered. “Isn’t this better? No pain, no annoying lab rats. Just you and me.”

Steve’s fingers twisted faintly in the fabric of the man’s shirt. “Yeah,” he breathed, barely audible. “Yeah.. It’s… It’s nice.”

And he didn’t know if it was this place or the strange heaviness filling his limbs, but when NotEddie leaned his head down, tucking in against Steve with a soft hum, he felt something warm and fragile pulse in his chest.

He didn’t question it.

Not when it felt this good to finally.. Stop hurting, even for a little while.

---

A small huff of air slipped from his nose. “You’re ridiculous.” The words were meant to sound annoyed, but they came out soft, almost fond as he shifted again, trying to find a position that didn’t make him feel like his ass was going numb. His hips wiggled down, settling more firmly as he eased into the warmth behind him.

NotEddie’s laugh puffed warm against his cheek, soft and achingly familiar in a way that wrapped around his ribs. He felt the faint brush of curls tickling his jaw as the man shifted forward and pressed a lazy kiss to the crinkle beside his eye. “Mm, maybe,” it was murmured against his cheek, low and fond. Another kiss to his temple followed, feather-light. “But you like it.” A third kiss landed on his cheekbone, lingering long enough that he felt the curve of a smile against his skin. The contact- even though they’d been here for hours, he thinks- sent a strange comforting warmth drifting through his chest- gentle, hazy, but pleasant. Like floating in a bath.

Steve tried to lean back and give him a flat look, but he could feel the corners of his mouth betraying him. “Shut up,” he shot back, though it lacked any bite. The tiny huff he made when another kiss grazed the corner of his mouth was not nearly as unimpressed as he wished it sounded. “You’re trying to slander my good name.”

The bed dipped slightly as Eddie shifted closer, knees bracketing Steve’s hips from behind, his arms snug but gentle around his waist. The room around them hummed again with the low echo of a mixtape, changed to one Eddie made years ago, some hazy blend of guitars and screeching vocals that felt like it had always been there- woven into the air, into the sheets, into the warmth pressing in around his sides.

“Your good name?” EddieNot.. NotEddie- he found himself having to remember more often that this wasn’t him. Not really- teased, nose brushing the edge of Steve’s jaw as though he’d been doing it his whole life. “Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but your ‘good name’ tanked ages ago.”

“That’s slander.” He almost pouted, voice gone light, airy, a smile held within words as his elbow nudged back half-heartedly. “My reputation is pristine.”

“Debatable.” The whisper tickled the shell of Steve’s ear, and he let out an exaggerated scoff, but it dissolved into a smile he couldn’t hold back.

“You’re the worst.”

“Mm, but you’re smiling.” Fingers slid from his waist to trace slow, idle patterns along Steve’s ribs. Not grabbing, not pulling- just touching. Familiar in the way the real Eddie’d done countless times. “And don’t try to pretend you’re not.”

He didn’t, couldn’t even try as his body was practically melted back into NotEddie’s chest, his head finding an easy place beneath the man’s chin. He felt.. Perfect. Safe. No aches, no sharp icy pain stinging his lungs. Just something warm and soft, like the world had finally stopped demanding he be strong for five seconds.

“Feels good,” he quietly admitted, eyes slipping half-closed as his body felt heavier, warm, too tired to move. “This.. Being here.”

“Yeah,” NotEddie whispered, breath slow and steady against the side of his face. “I know.”

They stayed like that for a while- minutes, hours, or something outside of time entirely. NotEddie’s fingers drifted lazily along Steve’s arm, over the slope of his shoulders, up the sides of his neck. Each touch was feather-light, affectionate in the way Eddie had always been when no one else was looking- or sometimes even if they were. Steve leaned into it without thinking, head tilting back to grant him easier access as those calloused fingers traced across the curve of his jaw.

“You’re getting soft on me, Harrington.” NotEddie teased, low and playful.

He scoffed, trying to bite down his smile. “I’m practically lying down. That’s not soft, it’s just gravity, Munson.”

“Mm, sure. Blame physics.” He leaned in, nudging the side of Steve’s nose with his own, almost a kiss if either of them tilted in just a fraction more. “Can’t be that you like my hands on you, not, at, all.”

Heat pooled at the tips of his ears, spreading warm and easy down his neck. “You’re really full of yourself, huh?”

“Only when I’m right.”

He turned his head, just slightly, not enough for their lips to meet, but enough that their noses brushed again. Eddie’s breath ghosting over the side of his mouth, warm and careful. The two of them hovered there, suspended in that thin line between almost and definitely now, hearts beating slow and steady in the quiet room.

He knows, somewhere, that it should’ve felt wrong.

But all he felt right now was.. Peace.

A kind of weightlessness he hadn’t felt in years. No cold, no dread, no guilt pressing in on his ribs. Just the soft rhythm of hands smoothing up and down his sides, the warmth of a body molded perfectly to his back, and the faintest whisper of laughter that tugged at his chest in a way that made it hard to breathe- no painfully, just.. Fully.

NotEddie leaned in, forehead resting against Steve’s temple, lips brushing close- so close Steve could almost imagine the kiss but not quite feel it. “See?” He gave Steve a gentle squeeze. “Told you everything would be alright.”

---

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, how long he was.. Wherever he was. But he just knows, before even opening his eyes, that he isn’t there anymore.

“Sir, there’s no sign o-”

He couldn’t hear the rest of it, there was just… Silence. So complete it seemed to hum in his bones. It was maddening.

“Do it again.”

There was something on top of him, something touching him. Hands, maybe? He felt their movement, but it was as if they were shaking a mannequin; he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t move, couldn’t even really feel them either, just the pressure.

“Sir, there’s no pu-”

“Do it again!”

There was more of that pressure; he felt the weight of it, but couldn’t tell what it was. He thinks it was the hands again- fingers at his throat, a palm spread over his chest, someone adjusting his head. He heard something- clothes?- moving around, maybe. Something heavy, metal he thinks, clattered, but it sounded too far away, cutting out too soon. He wanted to twitch, jerk away, do something, anything that would just make it stop, bring the sound back permanently- but his muscles stayed stiff and still, too heavy, too distant.

Something- someone- he thinks called his name again, soft then sharp and urgent.

Then-

Air slammed into him like he’d been dropped back into his body from miles away. His lungs seized, then dragged in a painful, tearing gasp. The first breath felt like inhaling burning glass. His eyes snapped open- but white swallowed everything. Too bright and blinding. It felt like the sun was boring straight through his retinas. His pupils refused to adjust and his vision stayed a washed-out smear of light, an endless field of brightness.

Sound rushed back in next. But a ringing drowned out every word, a constant high-pitched shriek that vibrated against his skull. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt raw, thick, as if it had forgotten how to work. He tried to talk, but his tongue felt too heavy, too foreign. He tried to scream and.. Maybe he was screaming, he couldn’t be sure.

Hands, he could tell they were hands now, they touched him- too many at once. On his shoulders, his arms, the sides of his ribs. A thumb pressed into the side of his neck, searching. Another hand brushed his jaw to turn his head, and the sensation burned in a way that told him his nerves still hadn’t figured out how much input to allow. His breath came in shallow, rapid gasps. Too much.

Everything was too much.

He tried to move away- a twitch, a flinch, anything- but it's like his body was made of lead. He managed the faintest wiggle of a finger, maybe. Or maybe he imagined it. His body felt distant, separated by layers of nothingness and exhaustion.

Someone said something, his name again? But the ringing in his ears swallowed the words before they could reach him. Everything blurred- light, sound, touch- until all that remained was the overwhelming weight of his body and the clawing panic rising in his chest.

He wasn’t dead. But he certainly wasn’t awake either. He was trapped in a body that wasn’t listening, caught between the instinct to lash out and the inability to even lift his head.

A tremor rolled through him- a shudder that felt like his heart stumbling back into rhythm. The effort sent a sharp shooting pain down his side, then another, like someone had replaced his veins with thin strands of ice. Air scraped into his lungs again as he tried to breathe through it, tried to find himself, tried to find… Something. A voice he recognized, a shadow he could focus on. Anything.

But the world remained nothing but brightness, ringing, and hands trying to hold him down as he fought with everything he had just to stay in the moment and not slip away again.

---

“Mmm.” The groan scraped out of him like gravel dragging across his raw skin, his head lolling to the side with a sluggish, uncontrolled movement. Every inch of him throbbed, his bones felt bruised, his veins burned, and the inside of his skull pulsed with a slow, nauseating ache. It wasn’t as bad as falling off a cliff- he isn’t sure anything could be- but it ran a close second, the kind of pain that made him want to sink back into unconsciousness just to escape it.

“Steven?!” A warm pressure cupped his cheek. A steady hand- definitely a hand this time, and the familiar lotion smell gave away who- pressed gently against him. “Steven, can you hear me?”

Another broken “Mm” dragged from him, but his eyes felt glued shut. His limbs didn’t even twitch when he tried to move. Heavy.. Too heavy.. Like someone had poured cement into his veins and let it set.

“Shh, it’s alright.” Fingers slid gently through his hair, smoothing it back, searching for knots, or maybe just trying to be comforting in its repetitive motion.

-Br… Brenner.- The smell alone was unmistakable. The tone, the tight breath, the too-careful gentleness, though, that was new, and it was coming off wrong at a time like this. The name had slurred through his thoughts as if forced through thick tar. -What… Happened?- Another pained sound rolled out of him as he turned his face just a fraction toward the hand, seeking the warmth as the cold pulled tight at his chest. His throat felt sandpapered when he tried to speak. “Wha-” It cracked, sharp and raw. Weak.

“Shh, don’t try to talk just yet.” Brenner brushed more hair back, fingers ghosting over his frozen yet somehow heated skin. “Your healing hasn’t kicked back in just yet. Not fully, at least. Just rest, you’re in medical now.” A quiet pause followed, a conflicted breath. “We brought you to a lab originally but… You’ve been out for a few days, so I thought it best to move you.”

-A.. Few… Days?-

His eyes fluttered open, slowly, stinging sharply as white light rushed in. His vision swam- blurs, shapes, then finally Brenner’s face washed pale with stress. “Mm?” Behind him, the room sharpened into existence: monitors, sterile metal carts, and IV pole he didn’t need but was for some reason hooked up to, the soft, annoying beep of a monitor that didn’t match any normal vital signs. He wasn’t in a lab, or a private room, or even their ‘surgery center’. He was in medical, surrounded by a half-closed sheet to give them the illusion of privacy.

Brenner sat stiffly at his bedside, elbows on the edge of the bed, leaning in too close. Concern etched deep lines around his eyes.. No, no, that wasn’t the right word. The emotion felt off, sharper, more frantic. His expression flickered with something like fear or.. Worry? Steve’s stomach twisted at the sight. -Not… Right. Don’t… Pretend to…. Don’t.- A weak whine crawled up his throat as he smacked his dry lips together, swallowing painfully. His tongue felt thick, clumsy, almost numb.

“Wuh… Wha… Wha-at. H-Happ-end?” The words dragged like glass up his throat, weak and raw. “Whh-at… D-Did to mm-me?”

Brenner’s exhale was slow and heavy, his brows pulling with an emotion Steve couldn’t place- or didn’t want to. It wasn’t pity, not sympathy, but something deeper, darker. “Unfortunately, Steven.. At the moment, I am.. Unsure, as to who did it to you.”

Who.. Did it.
Something was done to him.
Something unplanned.
Something he wasn’t healing from.

Steve blinked sluggishly, trying to force his vision to sharpen enough to truly read Brenner’s face. His body buzzed oddly under the sheets- weak, hollow, drained- and every time he breathed in, a faint burning flared through his lungs like leftover smoke.

“I originally assumed you were just overtired,” Brenner went on, voice low. “You looked like you were just falling asleep, at breakfast. Your head dipped, your hand slipped off the table, and you just sort of.. Slumped down. But when you didn’t respond to me, even when I yelled…” His jaw clenched, eyes shifting away. “I knew something was wrong.”

-Yeah… No shit.- The thought came slurring and irritated as his brows twitched.

Brenner’s hand stroked through his hair again, a gesture that was too intimate, too lingering as he smoothed down Steve’s hair. He wanted to flinch away, but his body refused to obey. Even his breathing felt delayed- he wasn’t sure if his chest rose because he chose to inhale, or because he needed to inhale. -Please stop.-

“You didn’t respond when I touched you either. Not when I shook you, yelled, or lifted your head. So I called and had you immediately taken to the labs.” Brenner’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, as if he was nervous. “It seems… It seems the blood you drank contained copious amounts of poison. Mixed types all stretched out between the several glasses you consumed.”

His thoughts, still sluggish, snagged on that. -Several?.. I remember one… Maybe two.-

“Individually,” Brenner continued, “your body and the blood you consumed should have handled them easily. But.. There were so many, layered together, combined in ways that we still don’t understand. And somehow, mixed that way…” He shook his head. “Even with your.. Unique physiology, it overwhelmed you. I don’t have much of an explanation for how it worked on you. Truly, I don’t. But, I suppose.. Everyone has a weakness. Poison, it seems, is a vampire’s….. Your heart stopped.” His voice lowered. “Your breathing stopped. And I thought…” His expression tightened, and his hand came back down to brush at Steve’s cheek. “I thought we’d finally lost you.”

Something hot and sour crawled up Steve’s throat- fear or anger. Or both- and his brows furrowed deeply. -Poison… I’ve.. I’ve tested poisons before. They.. They tested me on poisons before. Does he not remember? Does… Doc tested me on poisons, too. Tested my blood and…-

The thought had his breath hitching, and suddenly everything sharpened back into focus.

Blood.

Not just any blood.

-The blood I drank…-

It hadn’t been human.
Hadn’t smelled like any animal, but he’d attested that to being tired.
Now that he thought about it.. It had that too-familiar metallic sweetness.

-I drank my own blood.-

His chest tightened painfully, breath stuttering.

-My. Own. Blood. Mixed with fucking poison! Just like those fucking bullets!- He wanted to snarl, bite, claw at something. Instead what came out was a rough, low sound, it caught in his throat- half groan, half rising snarl- but his body refused to lift even an inch from off the mattress.

Rage flooded him, sudden and burning, all encompassing, but his limbs stayed heavy, pinned by lingering pain and toxins and whatever the hell else had happened to him. His healing crawled sluggishly under his skin, drawn-out sparks of heat biting through his muscles. He couldn’t sit up. Couldn’t shove Brenner’s hand away and find whoever’d done it.

Couldn’t do anything except like there and burn.

His vision flickered at the edges, exhaustion dragging at him again. Pain pulsed in every joint, every nerve. The room tilted faintly with each slow blink. And under it all, beneath the hurt, the confusion, the utter weakness he’d felt, a darker realization simmered.

Someone had tried to kill him.
Someone inside this place.
Someone who’d watched him drink his own poisoned blood and… -How did they get my blood?-

But… Steve wasn’t sure- yet- if Brenner was the terrified caretaker he appeared to be… Or if he was simply a better liar than he thought..

---

Steve couldn’t tell how long he’d been asleep this time. But when he woke, the lights were dimmer, and there was sun shining through the… Windows? He blinked blearily up at them, the bright rays stabbing into his eyes. Each slow blink had his mind clearing more and more, his thoughts easing out of the fog. He was still in pain, but far less than before, but still- in pain. And his body still felt sluggish, lighter than before, easier to move- though again, still painful- but not as weighed down. -Drugs are still.. Poison.. Poison is still in my system, then.-

With a deep sigh, he went to push himself up, but froze, hands braced against the bed, as the curtain was pushed open and a man, clipboard in hand, strolled in without noticing him.

It took a few minutes of flipping through whatever pages were on his clipboard before the man- doctor- looked up, freezing mid-step toward the monitors when his wide eyes took in Steve just staring at him. “S-Sir.” The man gulped, eyes shooting down to his clipboard before back at Steve. “I.. I just needed to look- to look over your vitals if you.. Don’t.. Mind.”

Steve blinked slowly, staring at the man a moment longer before giving a long, slow blink, nodding just as slow. “Y-Ye-ah.” He cleared his throat, wincing at the pain. “Y-You.. The head… Doc-tor?” His eyes tracked the man watching as he walked over to the still, annoyingly slow beeping machine.

“Y-Yes, I am. Is there… Something you needed?” The doctor reeked of nerves when he took a slow breath in.

“Mm.” He risked the pain, sucking in a deep but painful breath, just to fill his lungs again. “Wh-ut…” He cleared his throat again, wincing. “What.. Does it, look like? I-I mean.. My te-tests. What do… They say?” He shakily reached up, rubbing at his throat.

“Ah.” The man glanced from the monitor back to his clipboard, hastily writing down whatever he found. “Doctor Brenner had us take a blood sample while you were asleep. The results show your healing has finally kick-started, but it’s slow going. The poisons haven’t fully flushed from your system yet, which is why you are most likely still experiencing some pain and discomfort.” The doctor looked up, turning to face Steve fully. He still stunk of nerves, but seemed more comfortable doing his job, though he still looked like he wanted to run as far from Steve as possible.

“Doctor Brenner should be back soon, but, in terms of your recovery.. It’s looking promising. Another day or two and you should be back to your normal self. Though please note that this is just my estimate. Your biology is unique so we have no way of knowing for certain. But I can confidently say it should have no lasting effects on you. The results are already showing your body cleansing itself, though, as I said, it’s slower than your normal speed.”

Steve hummed, letting out a quick rush of air from his nose. “T-Thanks.” He yawned, jaw cracking, eyes heavy as he watched the man move around. “Go-Got any.. More blankets? ‘M cold.” He mumbled, blinking slower, eyes too heavy to keep open. He heard the man say some kind of response, but couldn’t muster the energy to try and figure it out. The next thing he knew, he felt something heavy being pulled over him, but he couldn’t force his eyes open to see what it was.

---

A soft whine escaped before he could swallow it down, throat catching on the sound. His eyelids fluttered sluggishly, dragging open like they were weighed down. The world came back in uneven pieces- first the brightness, far too sharp, piercing into his eyes; then the cold that never really left him but felt at times slightly less suffocating; then the ache, rolling deep in his bones like something heavy had settled inside and refused to budge.

Voices bled through the haze next, faint at first, then sharpening like someone was arguing just past his partition or- no.. Not an argument, as the sound grew sharper he could hear it for what it was, a reprimand. It carried the clipped precision of someone who knew better than to raise their voice.

“-care what you think. I need the facts. The answers to how it happened!” That voice. Sharp, controlled, clipped. He could almost picture the nostrils flaring. -Brenner.- A groan escaped weakly out of Steve as he lifted a hand- shakily, like dragging a dead limb- and rubbed at his eye with the hell of his palm. The motion sent a dull spike of pain through his ribs. Everything still hurt, not explosively like before, but in a deep, grinding aftershock way, like his body was waking up just enough to tell him how nearly wrecked it had been.

Stronger now, sure. But still wrung out.

The voices outside shifted, something like a nervous shuffle or someone being dressed down more quietly now, but he couldn’t really find the energy to focus on it. Another whisper slipped through- something about drastic consequences- the tone still sharp, still clipped, still angry. A faint mechanical hiss filled the background- vents settling, fluids moving through tubes, something far off beeping in slow intervals. His senses were still too overloaded to tell which sound was the closest or most relevant, and everything seemed to be filtering in on a delay.

The curtain moved minutely, not pulled aside, just disturbed by someone brushing too close. Steve tensed instinctively -good.. to know… those still work-, a spike of pain cutting through the fog as his muscles drew tight, breath hitching in his chest, thin and raspy.

The world tilted sideways for a moment, before immediately settling again.

Another breath. Another blink.

Colors began to settle in- sterile white, the muted green pattern near the windows, the soft bluish glow of a monitor somewhere back beside him. He lay half-propped on pillows, blankets twisted around him as if someone had tried to tuck him in, but he’d fought them off while unconscious. -How… Long?- The thought drifted through sluggishly, but at least it formed. A faint tremor ran down his arm as he tried to push himself up; he hardly moved an inch. His body still wasn’t cooperating, still heavy, still a little delayed as if the poison’s fingers hadn’t fully unclenched from inside him just yet.

More whispering drifted through- urgent, clipped, panicked underneath the restraint. “I said to find out how it happened! Not give me excuses!”

A cold breath crawled down his spine. Brenner was furious. Not yelling- that wasn’t his style- but the kind of icy anger that made everyone around him shrink back and feel small. The faintest memory flickered through his mind- fingers running through his hair, warmth, a familiar room, the softness he’d sunk into. For a split second, he wasn’t sure which world was real, or which one he was waking into. A sluggish swallow burned down his dry throat, the motion making his head throb.

A rustle of paper followed by a low, fearful reply that floated through, but he couldn’t make out the words. It was like his mind was rebooting, his senses still coming back online. Things were still too bright, others too dark, feelings too sharp, but sounds too muffled, too distant. His heart gave a slow, dragging thump. As if to remind him it was still there. That he was alive… Or whatever counted as “alive” for him.

Another groan slipped out as he attempted to sit up again, blanket dragging down his bare chest. The scratchy fabric felt like claws across his overly sensitive skin, it sent pain briefly flaring down his spine until it retreated to a dull burn. At least it was pain and not that dull, whatever it was he’d felt earlier- days ago?. He isn’t really sure.

A shadow passed across the curtain as footsteps approached. Steve’s breath steadied, shallow but controlled. His body still felt like a bag of wet cement, but at least he could- mostly- move. The footsteps paused on the other side of the curtain. “Steven?” Brenner’s voice- quieter now, strain in a way he wasn’t used to hearing. “Are you awake?”

He sucked in a quiet, slightly less painful breath, but he wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet. His brain was still sorting through the cotton filling his head.

But a heartbeat later, the curtain pulled back, and all Steve could do was blink up at the man and fight the instinct to flinch away. “Steven?” He watched Brenner’s face shift- eyes widening, jaw tensing, that veneer of professionalism cracking the moment he’d noticed Steve propped up on his forearms. The man rushed forward in a way that had him tensing. “You shouldn’t be moving just yet.” It came out softer than Steve expected- like Brenner was afraid of startling him. Cool hands slipped under his shoulders, guiding him upright with an unexpected gentleness that had his brows creasing. Brenner fussed with the pillows, stacking and fluffing them until he was fully sitting up, and comfortable.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, voice hoarse. His throat ached, his chest ached. Hell, even his hair felt like it ached. But before he could even ask for what he wanted, Brenner was already holding out a glass of water for him, with a straw- like he anticipated it, maybe even waited for it.

“I was starting to worry you wouldn’t wake again.” Brenner circled the bed, settling into a chair Steve hadn’t realized was pulled up so close. “I came in after lunch yesterday, and one of the doctors said you were awake and talking, for a little while.”

“Mmh.. Yeah.” The word dragged out of him. “Guess so.”

“Good, good.” Brenner kept moving- adjusting the pillows again, smoothing the blankets across his lap like Steve was some feverish child, then adjusting the buttons of his suit like he needed something to do to keep his hands busy, or risk doing something.. More. The constant motion was beginning to grate on his nerves. Brenner didn’t do all this, never got nervous, angry, hardly ever worried, and never looked at him like this- like he was something… Almost as if he were something precious, like he was afraid to lose him.

“How are you feeling?” The soft tone didn’t match the intensity of the man’s eyes.

“Mm.. Still in a bit of pain,” he admitted, finishing the water before setting the glass on the table over his bed with a trembling hand. “But.. Feeling more myself.”

“Good. That’s.. Good.” Brenner exhaled slowly and finally stopped moving long enough to sit back in his chair. For a second, he just stared at Steve- taking him in, almost searching his face for cracks. “I’ve had the kitchen staff, the waiters, and several other members of staff detained. At the moment, questioning is… At a standstill.”

Steve’s brows pinched together. “We are unsure who or how many people did this,” Brenner continued, fingers tapping the armrest in a restless rhythm. “And while I’ve gone through multiple routes to get answers.. I’m not sure our culprit is amongst the groups.”

Steve nodded slowly, wary, confused. And trying to ignore the strange tightness in Brenner’s voice- the genuine frustration, the… Fear? No.. He couldn’t be reading that right. Either way, he didn’t know what to do with it. This was all… New. He wasn’t sure what to make of any of it just yet.

“I’ll…” He swallowed, grimacing at the raw scrape in his throat. “I’ll help when- when I heal more. Then- I’ll finish my work. I was so close.”

Brenner’s mouth tightened at his response, a small twitch before he smoothed his expression back out. “No.” It was said quickly, too quickly. “No, Steven. That can wait. Your recovery comes first.” His tone clashed strangely with the way he reached forward to readjust the blanket over Steve’s legs again, tugging the corner straight even though it didn’t need it.

He watched the movement, uncertain- more than uncertain. Suspicious, even. Brenner didn’t fuss, didn’t hover, and definitely didn’t act like this. -Is this all just.. Some kind of test? Some elaborate plan to make sure I’m loyal?- He shifted slightly, testing the strength in his arms, wiggling his toes just to make sure he still could. The dull ache was still there, threading through his ribs and shoulders, a deep bruised feeling that pulsed with every breath. Not crippling anymore, but constant. His body felt… Drained still, but manageable, he could almost feel the way his healing was working through him. He might still be exhausted, but there was enough clarity in him now to clock the strange softness in Brenner’s voice, the way he kept glancing over Steve’s face as if checking for signs of.. What? Distress? Pain? Anger? He wasn’t really sure, and that bothered him more than he’d admit.

“I didn’t say I’d start now,” he murmured, rubbing his palms over his sternum as if he could work the lingering tightness out. “Just.. Later. When I’m back to normal. I mean.. Fangs and claws always get us answers.”

“You’re not returning to any kind of work until you’re fully healed.” Brenner’s tone sharpened for a moment before he visibly reined it back in, posture softening. “You frightened everyone, the doctors, scientists, even the guards.” A quiet beat passed. “You frightened me, Steven.”

“I-?...” He blinked at him, thrown. “Martin, I’m fine. It’s not like I can die… Again.” He gave a weak smile, but the entire conversation had him feeling… Wrong. -At least.. I don’t think I can?-

“Your heart stopped,” Brenner snapped, then immediately sucked in a quiet breath, smoothing his hands over his knees as if to scrub the outburst away. -You’ve said that alrea-… Oh..- His voice lowered. “Your heart stopped, and you weren’t breathing. And no one knew if you would start again. Do you understand?” His eyes flicked up, something raw and uneasy behind them that Steve couldn’t get a read on. “You may not be able to die as a human would, but that doesn’t mean you’re invulnerable. And seeing you like that-” He cut himself off, jaw tensing. “It isn’t something I care to repeat.”

-Because you’d be losing out on your investment…?- Even his thoughts were unsure now as he just stared at the man, unsettled. This all just sounded… Personal. Too personal and he didn’t like it; it made something uncomfortable tighten low in his stomach, because this wasn’t the man he understood. This wasn’t the man who pushed him to keep testing his limits, who demanded results before rest. This was someone fussing like a… -Like a parent.- The thought made Steve’s skin prickle.

“I’m.. I’m okay.” He finally responded, softer this time, leaning his head back into the pillow that Brenner had so meticulously arranged. He didn’t feel okay- not really. His muscles still trembled faintly with every shift, and that cold ache was still curled inside his bones like leftover venom; it was different from the persistent chill, but no less painful. But compared to before? Compared to flatlining? Yeah.. “Better than before.”

“I should hope so.” Brenner’s gaze swept over Steve as if cataloguing every twitch, every breath. “Your color has improved, movements steadier, the doctor informed me your healing finally started working again.” He slowly reached out, brushing back a stray lock of hair off Steve’s forehead, fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

Steve stiffened, but didn’t pull away- he wasn’t sure if this was all just an elaborate test, or what the repercussion would be for failing this time- but his eyes narrowed faintly. “Why… Why are you acting like this?”

Brenner blinked, hand pausing midair before withdrawing completely. “Like what?”

“Like..” He swallowed, it came easier now. “Like some type of.. Parent? I don’t know what you want me to say? Like you care? Like I’m more than just what you brought me here to be.” It was pushing too far and he knew it, the moment it left his mouth.

A silence settled between them- heavy, awkward, and filled with meanings Steve couldn’t unpack right now.

Brenner didn’t answer right away, but his eyes softened in a way that had Steve unable to meet them, unsure what to do with any of it. He didn’t trust it, didn’t know how to interpret it. But he was too tired, too drained to push further.

“Steven,” Brenner finally said, almost too quietly to hear, “someone tried to kill you. And until we know who, or why.. I’m not leaving your recovery to chance.” He folded his hands in his lap. “You’re important.”

Another beat.

“Far more than you think.”

His breath caught tight in his chest, not in fear, not exactly, but in a confusion so thick it made the room tilt for a moment. He shifted under the blankets, clutching one edge as if grounding himself. His head throbbed faintly, his ribs ached, and his skin still buzzed with the leftover burn of the poison. But beneath all that, something new, some new unease curled in tight.

Important… To Brenner.

The idea didn’t fit anywhere in his understanding of this world. But he was too tired to chase it, too tired to try and figure out what anything meant right now. Too tired, and still healing.

And Brenner… Wasn’t looking away, why wasn’t he looking away?

“I… Okay.” He finally whispered out, fingers curling and uncurling against the blanket, picking at the edge. “But once I’m healed,” he went on, voice a little steadier. “I’ll help- yes, yes, I know.” A tired little huff left him, almost a laugh, as he caught the faint shift in Brenner’s expression, the man mid-inhale to cut him off, Steve beat him to it. “Not a moment before. But once I am healed, I’ll get our answers. Or-” His breath wavered as his body reminded him of the ache running under his ribs. “Or try to.”

“Very well.” Brenner nodded, brows tightening as if weighing a dozen unspoken thoughts. He smoothed his hands down the front of his suit- nervous, which wasn’t a good look on him- before leaning in to adjust the blanket at Steve’s waist for what had to be the third time in half an hour. The gesture was slow, deliberate, almost.. Tentative. Parental. Overly careful. And it sent another uncomfortable prickle down his spine. “There’s more we’ll need to talk about. But I’ll let you get some more rest.” Brenner stood, quiet in a way that felt out of place for him, and headed for the curtain. Before slipping past, he paused, angling one last look at Steve. “I’ll come back in the morning. But should you need anything before then, the button next to your bed will alert your doctor.” His voice softened further, almost warm. “Have a good night, Steven.”

“Night.” The word barely made it out, little more than a dry rasp again. He exhaled slowly, letting himself sink deeper into the pillows as the curtain whispered shut behind the man.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

-What… The fuck.- His thoughts crawled sluggishly to assemble themselves, but once they started, they wouldn’t stop pouring in. He shifted with a small wince, adjusting his shoulders until he was lying flat again. -’More important that I know?’ What the hell is that supposed to mean? And why was he acting so creepy? Getting all close, way too close. And since when does Martin fucking Brenner tuck in blankets like somebody’s ninety-year-old grandpa?-

He stared up at the ceiling tiles, their faint texture swimming as his vision wavered and exhaustion crept back in. -And.. Well, shit. Poisoned. Actually fucking poisoned. That’s just my luck. I get close to finding answers, and someone decided to knock me off like I’m in some bad soap opera. Seriously? This is ridiculous.-

His muscles throbbed as that slow pulsing ache had him feeling both hollowed out and too full at once. The worst of the poison's burn had faded, but the ghosts of it lingered, prickling through his veins like cold needles. It made his limbs heavy again, his eyelids heavier even though he’d just woken up.

-Well.. Not much I can do about it right now.- His jaw cracked with the force of his yawn, a tired, involuntary sound as he let his body melt back into the best of pillows and blankets. -Might as well get more sleep. Maybe.. When I wake up, things won’t feel so.. Weird anymore.- He shifted once, tucking one of the blanket’s edge closer to his chin, letting the sterile hospital chill seep into his bones, the dull, rhythmic hum of machines fill the background, and the murmur of voices from down the hall lull him back down.

His eyes drifted shut on their own, heavy and slow, his mind fogging into that soft, painless blur. He didn’t try to fight it.

---

“You know.”

Steve let out a quiet, surprised laugh at the voice, eyes blinking open right back in that familiar room again- soft and dim now, the air carrying the faint hum of a mixtape playing somewhere in the distance. He was stretched across the bed this time, a worn blanket tucked loosely around his waist like he’d fallen asleep there. His body felt weightless, limbs loose and warm, as if the comfort of the room itself deeper straight into his bones. He looked around slowly, a grin pulling at his lips before he could help it. NotEddie was lounging against the windowsill, one leg dangling toward Steve, socked foot swinging idly, the other bent up so he could rest an elbow casually on his knee. The breeze blew through the open window, ruffling his curls, threading through the room like a soft sigh.

“Sometimes, I think you just miss my pretty face.”

Steve snorted, rolling his eyes as he pushed himself upright. His body responded easily here- no stiffness, no lingering ache, nothing but a pleasant warmth. “And you know.. Sometimes I think I just might.” He pulled the blanket off his lap, feet swinging over and thumping gently on the floor as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Sometimes I think you miss me too.”

NotEddie’s smile widened, familiar and wrong all at once. His eyes softened, something fond flickering there as he slid off the sill and padded over to the bed. He plopped down beside him without hesitation, their thighs bumping. “I might have to agree with you there, Stevie.” His grin sharpened as he leaned in a little, like he was telling a secret. “Come here often?”

The laugh that tore out of him was loud, full, unrestrained- so normal it actually startled him for a beat. He leaned into NotEddie’s shoulder, as if magnetized. “You know.. Starting to think I might.” His head settled against the other’s shoulder, a sigh escaping him as the tension drained out of him. “Been poisoned, it seems.”

“Mhm.” NotEddie’s hand slipped into his hair, fingers scratching lightly at his scalp in a way that had his eyes fluttering. “I know. Felt it the second you ingested it.” His fingers fluffed up some of the sleep-matted hair before tapping lightly against Steve’s head. “Couldn’t get a hold of you though. Phone must’a been disconnected.”

He hummed at the gentle touches, eyes drifting nearly closed as he soaked in the comfort. “Yeah.. Must’ve.” After a long, peaceful moment, he forced himself upright, turning to face NotEddie fully. “Eds… I’m gonna get better. And when I do, I’m gonna get those answers. I don’t know where they’ll lead me, or what I’ll find. But… But I’ll see you again. I promise.”

NotEddie’s face softened even more, expression melting into something almost fragile. He cupped Steve’s face gently, palms cool and steady against his cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart.” His thumbs brushed along the edge of Steve’s jaw. “I know you will. If anyone can find me- or, well.. The real me, it’s gonna be you.” His voice dipped quieter, almost hard, almost. “And I need you to find me. I need to be there when it happens.”

Steve’s brows pinched, confusion flickering sharply across his face. His stomach gave a faint twist. “When what happens?”

But he got no response as the room seemed to pulse. Just slightly- but enough for his chest to tighten.

The colors of the room began to smear at the edges, the corners warping, the posters on the walls curling into that blinding white. Even the warmth of the bed began to thin into nothing.

“Eds?” he tried again, voice trembling as the sound warped, echoing oddly in the sudden vastness. “Eddie?”

NotEddie’s face blurred first, smearing like wet paint. The warmth of his hands slipped away, the mixtape wrapped, faded into a low hum, then into silence. White bled across everything- first the bed, then the room, then NotEddie himself- until all that remained were Steve’s reaching hands and the overwhelming sense of falling.

“Eddie?” He whispered one last time.

But the world was already gone.

Notes:

Fun fact: I had a plan for this story and apparently it looks like s5 had the same idea. It has me actually screaming in joy because whaaa, you're saying I kind of did something here? (I guess half the plot points already but that's not the point.) Anyway, I need the rest of s5 to drop immediately, I love it.

Chapter 47: Whodunit?

Summary:

Seven suspects, Six weapons, Five bodies, and Three endings.
It's not just a game anymore.

Notes:

Shorter than usual chapter but I hope you guys enjoy!

Warning: A bit of light to mild torture.

He’s been sitting up in this hospital bed for what felt like hours, just staring at the curtain since the moment he jerked awake from that dream. -What had he meant?- The question had been looping through his head nonstop, circling and refusing to leave him be. -All things considered..- He hummed under his breath, a low tuneless vibration he made just to feel it, still fixed on the curtain as though it were going to answer him. -I’m handling all of this a hell of a lot better than I could be. I mean, I’m a lot calmer than…-

Slowly, his eyes drifted down until they caught on the IV line taped to the back of his hand. His expression flattened as his eyes followed the plastic tubing upward, tracing the path to the stand and the half-empty bag that hung there- dripping steadily, like it wasn’t doing something profoundly offensive. -Yeah…- His jaw tightened until the muscles jumped. -That’ll do it.-

His eyes narrowed into thin, venomous slits, staring at the bag with a quiet, simmering hostility. As if he could will it to suddenly combust. How hadn’t he noticed it before? -Of course.. Probably trying to keep me from going into a homicidal rage.- His nostrils flared as the anger rose fast. Someone- Brenner most likely- had drugged him. Again. And without asking. Again. Without telling him, without trusting him.

Steve’s hand shook, not with weakness but with restraint as he shakily reached up and ripped the IV out in one swift pull. He hissed under his breath when the tape tugged at his skin, but the small sting only fed the frustration crackling behind his ribs. He tore off the rest of the sensors and pads too, the ones stuck to his chest, arms, and his temples that he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to earlier, each one flicked aside with increasing anger. His body felt clearer this morning- strength returning in surges, pushy and eager, making him feel restless now.

The machine beside him immediately erupted in alarm, shrill and frantic. But one sharp flick of his wrist, and it cut off mid-screech. Silence crashed in, thick and tense, broken quickly by the doctor’s office door slamming open, footsteps pounding in a hurried rhythm down the wing. He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back to try and relax. Suddenly, he pulled the blankets off in one irritated motion, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet hitting the cold tile with a soft slap. But he just sat there, elbows on his knees, waiting- coiled tight but still. Controlled- mostly.

The curtain was shoved aside so fast it rattled its track as the doctor burst in, scanning the area wildly until his gaze caught on Steve. He froze, brows pinching together, confusion and fear tightening his posture as his eyes darted from Steve to the powered down monitor, to the dangling wires strewn across the floor.

“Ah… I see.” The doctor swallowed hard, attempting a shaky smile that followed no one. “You-You’re awake. Wonderful.” Fear rolled off him in a thick wave, sharp enough to sting. He wasn’t even looking at the man, and it still radiated. Not that he’d ever even laid a hand on any of the genuine medical staff. But apparently, no one cared about details when the rumors about what he’d done and could do spun around the building too fast for him to keep up.

“Yeah.” He kept his voice flat, meeting the doctor's eyes with a calm he absolutely did not feel. “I feel fine now. So go ahead and run whatever tests you need to, and then I’m leaving.” He arched a brow, tone clipped, annoyance simmering in every syllable. He could tell the man heard the very thin leash he was holding himself on.

He fixed the doctor with a flat, unimpressed look as he watched him gather the wires, jaw tightening as he tried to get comfortable on the edge of the bed. His skin prickled, aching lightly from where he’d pulled the IV, though the puncture had already vanished. -How long was I asleep this time? Feel stiff, must’a been another day at least.- The ache wasn’t really an issue, just an annoyance, a reminder of what had happened. He was healing, yes, but everything still felt as if it were happening underwater as the drugs worked themselves out of his system.

The doctor’s nervous smile faltered under his stare. “O-Of course, we-we’ll run the scheduled panels again, Mr. Harrington, but given your recovery rate, I imagine-”

“You drugged me.” Steve didn’t bother softening the accusation, though he sounded tired, an exhausted sort of anger threading through the words. “That was a sedative, was it not? Maybe not strong enough to really knock me out, but strong enough to keep me in a fog. Keep me calm.” His eyes flicked up to the bag again, lips curling thinking over how many times it had been changed out. “You think I’d be so out of it I wouldn’t notice?”

The man visibly swallowed. “It was only a mild neuromuscular relaxant and- and a dampener. Protocol, sir. You were thrashing when the poison started breaking down. Your.. Unique biology was reacting, violently. We were trying to keep you safe.”

“I’d just been poisoned… And you think I wanted more drugs in me?” He scrubbed a palm over his eyes, dragging it down his face, forcing himself to breathe through the irritation simmering under his skin. He felt… Wrong inside. Better than yesterday or however long it’s been, but still wrong- a lingering tremor under his ribs, a strange drag under his sternum, threads of heat and cold twisting together unpleasantly. His lungs felt too full and too empty at the same time. His heart still thumped, thudding, but it was softer than even his normal quiet beat.

“Safe,” he let his voice fall flat again. “Right.. Safe. Because nothing says ‘safety’ like drugging me without my consent.” He looked up, meeting the doctor’s eyes directly. “That’s not protocol. That’s panic.”

The doctor opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “We couldn’t risk-”

“Risk what? Me getting upset?” His voice sharpened as a bitter laugh slipped out. “You lot are fine with testing my limits, poking, prodding, running me like some kind of lab rat. But when I nearly die, actually die, suddenly you’re scared of me?”

He pushed himself up straighter, ignoring the soreness pulling along his ribs. “Just tell me what you need to run so you can sign me out.”

The doctor took a hesitant, half-step closer, a clipboard Steve only just noticed being clutched to his chest, almost like a shield. “We.. Need vitals again. A full metabolic panel, a toxicity recheck to ensure all compounds have.. Cleared. Your healing needs to be factored in and checked twice, but we just need to verify there’s no residual-”

“There’s not,” he interrupted, fingers curled, rubbing his thumb over his palm to keep himself calm. “Felt like hell, but I can tell it’s over with.”

“Yes, well.. We must confirm that. And-and Director Brenner made it clear that you are not to be released until all scans are clean.” The doctor’s voice lowered. “He’d been very… Adamant.. Sir.”

Steve tensed, shoulders holding tight.

-Of course he had.-

Brenner hovering. Brenner fussing. Brenner acting like some kind of worried parent instead of the cold, clinical man he’d always known him to be. It set his nerves on edge in a way nothing else had- like standing too close to a campfire and realizing the flames were behaving wrong but it was too late.

It’d be easier to handle if Brenner was just his normal brand of manipulative.

Instead, the man had acted.. Invested. And he didn’t know what the hell to do with that. His fingers tightened around the edge of the mattress. “Fine.. Do the tests.”

The doctor gave a quick nod, relief rolling off him so strongly Steve could practically taste it. “I’ll.. I’ll get the team. We’ll make it quick.”

He darted out past the curtain.

Left alone, Steve exhaled slowly, letting himself slump back into the bed and against the pillows with a tired groan. His body still ached, a spike of heat flaring across his chest before fading again. The poison’s residue was still threading through him in electric twitches- enough to be annoying, but not particularly painful anymore.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling. “...Drugs,” he muttered to himself, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Unbelievable. Poisoned once, medicated twice. What a friggin week.” His eyes slid shut, just for a moment, breathing through the uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He let his thoughts drift- unwillingly- back to that fading dream.

Eddie’s room.
The warmth he’d finally gotten to feel again, just for a second. That last unanswered sentence.

When it happens.
He needed to be there when it happens… Whatever it is.

Steve frowned, squeezing his eyes tighter. “Well, that’s cryptic,” he whispered to the empty space.

And for the first time, NotEddie didn’t whisper anything back.

---

He watched every minuscule movement the doctors made as they carefully set aside a labeled vial of his blood, the glass clinking faintly as it joined the others. His eyes narrowed, not quite focusing on any one thing- more like focusing on everything. The scent of antiseptic, the too-bright buzz of fluorescent lights, the quiet murmur of the staff further down the wing- it all pressed in, needling at his already fraying nerves. His fangs ached under his gums, a dull pressure that came with rising irritation. He tracked one doctor’s heartbeat without meaning to, the rapid rhythm betraying her discomfort as she handled the sample.

He nearly shot off the bed when the curtain was thrown open, senses still sluggish from whatever sedative they’d used on him; it was like someone had wrapped his brain in cotton.

Brenner stepped inside, pace quick and focused. The moment he was close enough, Steve could practically feel the man’s concern beating out of him in a heavy wave. “Steven.” Brenner’s eyes quickly scanned him from head to toe, tense. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but are you sure you’re up to-”

“I need answers,” he cut in sharply, not in the mood for coddling. His voice had that rough edge he got when he was barely keeping his temper in check as he nodded toward the table where the vials sat. “And I want my blood disposed of properly until I get them. I don’t know what they think they’re trying to accomplish here, but I’m not letting them play science fair with me.”

Brenner blinked, taken aback for half a second before giving a slow, measured nod. “Of course. Whatever you need.” He turned to the four doctors clustered nearby, a silent exchange between them- fear and professionalism tangling messily- before they nodded to him. Only once he was sure they’d understood him did Brenner step closer to Steve, positioning himself near his shoulder as if to ground him- or keep him from bolting.

Steve sat stiffly as they continued the rest of their tests, each one more annoying than the last. A cold stethoscope pressed too firmly against his chest under his t-shirt, a bright penlight shoved almost insultingly near in front of his pupils, a pulse ox monitor that pinched just enough to make him want to rip it off. Even worse- one doctor kept checking his reflexes, tapping that little rubber hammer on his knee like he was some twitchy lab rat. Each test made his annoyance tighten another notch. He answered their questions with clipped, grudging mutter, when he bothered answering at all.

Then came the longest part- sitting there while they ran the panels on his blood, a string of machines humming softly in the background that grated on his nerves. Steve drummed impatient fingers against his thigh, foot bouncing restlessly. At least a dozen times he muttered under his breath about how slow they were being.

But unexpectedly- or maybe he should have expected it- through the entire thing, Brenner stayed practically glued to him, watching him like he expected Steve to collapse again at any second.

When the doctor finally pulled back the curtain, stepping back in with one of their overly large tablets in hand, Steve almost flew out of the bed before the man spoke. “You’re all clear,” it was admitted with a cautious smile- one of those please-don’t-bite-me smiles he’d gotten so used to here.

He didn’t care, already pushing himself up and off the bed, muscles stretching, joints popping one by one after the hours he’d spent here- days actually. His spine cracked loudly as he lifted both arms above his head in a long, luxurious stretch. “Great,” he exhaled, shaking out his hands. “Fantastic. Thanks for the treatment or whatever, doctor.” His grin went toothy- just enough to make the man swallow nervously. “Let’s not do it again sometime.”

The doctor weakly laughed, Brenner sighed, and Steve practically skipped away, pushing dramatically past the curtain.

---

Brenner was walking fast behind him, hands hovering out like he was ready to catch Steve at any second, and it was… It was driving him up the wall. Every skittering footstep, every anxious inhale from the man felt like someone tap, tap, tapping a fork against glass right up behind his ears. He could feel it crawling up the back of his neck in tiny, insistent sparks. It made his shoulders bunch tighter with every step and he could feel himself starting to get pissed off.

With the next turn- Brenner almost racing forward to keep up with him- Steve stopped abruptly, turning slowly, deliberately so, fixing the man in place with a stare sharp enough to pin him to the floor.

“...Martin.” The name came out tight, perfectly even, but with a brittle edge just underneath as he raised a brow. “They said I’m fine. I said I’m fine. I am fine. I’m not going to keel over or drop dead on the way to my room, and if anyone tries to get cute with my food or drinks again, I’ll know.” His nostrils flared faintly. “So stop worrying.”

He held the man there with that look- brows lifted, eyes unblinking, jaw tight. “I’m not a child. And you know I’ve handled worse. Hell, I’ve had worse from the asshats downstairs while half-starved.” His voice remained level, but the annoyance was obvious now. “I just needed a few days to get over the whole ordeal. For my body to reset.” He didn’t say the rest- didn’t say that the memory of being drugged was still scraping around inside his head like sand in a shoe. Didn’t say that the whole thing made his skin crawl. And didn’t say that being watched like some small fragile thing made something inside him grind its teeth.

Brenner let out a deep sigh, nodding as if talking himself through it. “I apologize, Steven. I’ve been so worried I… Forgot you aren’t exactly made of glass.” Then a small, measured step back from his personal space. “I understand you want to get back to things immediately, but.. For my peace of mind- would you consider taking the rest of the day to finish recovering? I know you’ve been confined to that bed for the better part of two weeks. But tomorrow you can resume your questioning, or research, and I won’t stop you. Just.. Rest, for today.”

Steve’s tongue pressed into his cheek, annoyance simmering, but an odd part of him… Understood. God, he hated that he could understand the reasons, but he did. “Alright. I’ll.. Go to my room and… Read a book or something.”

“Thank you.” Brenner nodded once, almost relieved. “I’ll walk you there, then leave you be.”

He didn’t argue, just nodded in acknowledgement and started walking again.

They took several turns, in silence. They rode the first elevator down, in silence. Then the second, deeper one- still silent. Brenner didn’t hover as close now, but the tension radiating off him was still palpable. By the time they reached Steve’s hall, the quiet felt thick enough to bite into.

They reached his door, in silence, and Steve patted down his pockets in search of his key. It slid into the lock and turned easily, but he didn’t yet open the door. Instead, he turned back to Brenner.

“I suppose this is where I leave you, Steven. Do… Try to get some rest. And phone me if you need anything.” Brenner’s hand landed briefly on his shoulder- light, but hesitant- before he turned away and headed down the hall toward the kitchens.

Steve stood there for several moments, watching the older man’s retreat until he disappeared around the corner. Only then did he turn back and push open the door, slipping inside and locking it behind him. For a moment, he just stood still, letting the quiet settle around him, before flicking on the light. His eyes traced the room slowly, the bookshelf, the desk, the bed, the small stack of books he hadn’t touched in days on his nightstand.

Nothing had been moved, nothing had changed, and after a deep inhale- letting his chest fill completely- no one had been in here. He nodded once to himself. -Good.- He shoved any thoughts of whatever was going on with Brenner aside, pushed off the door, and headed toward the bathroom.

Flicking on the light, he let out a quiet sigh, glad to finally be alone again. He turned toward the mirror, reflection looking a little drawn maybe, but awake- himself. Mostly. He gave the mirror a faint, private smile before crossing to the oversized tub and twisting on the taps. The water roared to life, steaming almost instantly. -Gotta love the unlimited hot water.- His eyes flicked toward the bottle of bubbles Brenner had gifted him, “to relax, because you deserve it”, he explained with amusement. Steve rolled his eyes just as he did then, but reached for it anyway, pouring in a few capfuls more than the bottle said to. The scent was subtle, even to him, a soft vanilla-something that rose with the steam.

“To relax.” He muttered with a small shake of his head, though the corners of his mouth tugged up.

He reached his arms overhead, stretching long until something in his back cracked satisfyingly. Then he bent, touching his toes for a moment before standing and rolling his shoulders loose again. Only then did he start undressing, fingers careful as he pulled off his shirt. He paused, holding the fabric in both hands, just staring at it.

It was just a plain grey shirt, not the slightly faded green he’d been wearing at breakfast. -Did… Did they undress me… They had to ‘of. I woke up shirtless and… Did they redress me too?- A grimace twisted his expression. -Please God, I hope it wasn’t Brenner.-

Shaking it out, he started to fold it before realizing what he was doing. Instead, he just tossed it behind him, hoping it landed in the hamper. Then he stripped off the rest with even less care- pants, boxers, shoes, socks, all thrown unceremoniously aside on the floor.

He waited for the tub to fill halfway before carefully sinking in, letting the heat wrap around him- it just barely chased the edge of the chill away. A long, quiet breath escaped, blowing gently across the mountain of bubbles in front of him. He watched the way they parted and shifted, shimmering away as he let his fingertips trail lazily through them with a smile.

When the tub was nearly full, he shut the tap off and sank down until he was under the water. He sat there for a moment, letting the air settle in his chest, letting the pressure build around him. Before he slowly rose up until his nose was just above the water's surface, sucking in a quick breath. He kept his eyes closed, tipping his head back, water lapping at the hollow of his throat, the warmth pulling the tension right out of him.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there before he heard it. You look mighty comfy there, Stevie.”

The voice curled around him like a familiar blanket. He smiled without opening his eyes, a soft puff of relief slipping from him as gentle fingers combed through his hair. It took a second, but eventually, he cracked one eye open, smile growing at the sight of NotEddie perched beside the tub, one arm draped over the rim, fingers tracing just over the water’s surface but not quite touching, chin resting on that arm.

“Mm.” Steve hummed, the sound low and content as he let his eye slide shut again, tilting his head further into the touch. “‘m… Takin’ th’ rest o’ the day off,” he mumbled slowly.

NotEddie chuckled softly, rings clinking as they scraped lightly, soothingly, against Steve’s scalp. “Yeah? That’s good, you could use the rest, you’re gonna need your strength. You might not have to sleep as much as they do, but even you’ve got limits. And you can’t exactly tear through those files if you’re tired.”

Steve answered with a soft, lazy hum. “Gon’ get answers,” he breathed out, words drifting with the steam. “Gonna question th’ assholes who poisoned me too. Or… Or try to.” He shrugged weakly, too relaxed to put any real effort into it.

NotEddie didn’t tease him for it, just kept threading fingers through his hair, slow and careful, like he had all the time in the world. Silence settled comfortably between them, warm as the water. And Steve let himself drift in it, sinking deeper into the heat, the touch, the presence of his Not-Quite-Boyfriend. Even as the bath cooled, far beyond it having gotten cold, he was still letting NotEddie’s fingers card through his hair.

He wasn’t sure when he’d drifted- whether he’d truly fallen asleep or simply slipped into that soft edge of awareness where everything felt muted and safe. But when he was blinking his eyes open again, NotEddie was gone. And the emptiness around him made the air feel all the much colder, lonelier, and he let out a long, slow exhale, pushing himself up, water sloshing quietly around him.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur- thin, disjointed moment strung together like someone else had arranged them and told him they were his. After actually washing up, he’d dragged himself out of the tub with all the energy of a damp towel. He’d barely dried off before tugging on a pair of soft sweatpants and a stretched-out sweater. The motions felt distant, automatic. His awareness kept slipping sideways, like he was awake inside a dream he hadn’t meant to be in.

At some point, he remembers shuffling to the minifridge, pulling out leftovers he barely tasted. His senses should have sharpened the moment he’d just smelt the blood warming in the microwave, but it was more like a dull pulse instead of a spark- just warmth sliding down his throat, keeping him from floating off entirely. He dimly recalled sitting at his desk afterward, pencil in hand, notebook opened to a blank page that had felt like it was staring back at him. He knew he’d written something- could almost feel the grooves the pencil left in the paper- but trying to piece together the contents felt pointless, like trying to eat soup with a fork.

Maybe he’d drawn instead; his fingers swore they remembered the shape of the pencil differently. Maybe he’d stood, walked around the room once or twice. Everything between the bath and his bed was just a smear of color and motion.

And now he was here, curled on his side, half-buried under a blanket he’d thrown over himself haphazardly. One knee bent, one leg hanging off the edge, hair still slightly damp against his pillow. He stared across the room at nothing in particular, fingertips idly brushing back and forth across the sheets as though the texture alone could anchor him in the moment. -Need another plan… Interrogate.. then investigate?- His mind offered the thought sluggishly, like it had been swimming through mud. He hummed to himself, barely audible. -Yeah… Yeah, I could do that.-

Eyes flicking to the clock above the door, two in the afternoon it read. He groaned softly, long and dramatic, letting himself flop onto his back like a disgruntled cat. The blanket shifted with him, sliding off one shoulder. He let his hand drift lazily, wandering beneath the hem of his sweater, palm flattening across the cool skin of his lower stomach, fingers spreading out comfortably. It wasn’t with a purpose, just something to feel, something that reminded him he still had a body beneath all the fog.

“This is boring,” he muttered to no one, rubbing small circles into his skin as if that alone could generate entertainment.

An annoyance simmered beneath the calm like a stubborn ember. Not anger, not really- even he knew that- but a bratty irritation at being all but ordered to rest when he didn’t want to. At himself for being tired, even now. At everything. -I could be out there right now. I could have my answers by now. But noooo, now Brenner decided to grow a heart.-

Steve pouted- an actual, honest-to-God pout- even if he’d deny it under threat of death. He shifted again, stretching one leg long while the other bent higher, letting the fabric of his sweatpants pull comfortably against him. His hand drifted slightly, fingertips tracing faint lines of muscle and scars without intention or urgency. Just.. Wandering. Feeling what was there. Confirming his own solidity, his own presence. Just letting the motions fill the empty space that the stillness left behind.

His breath slowed, irritation dulling with it. And the longer he lay there- sprawled, comfortable, mildly annoyed but softening- the more the boredom settled into something almost peaceful, like a lull in a storm.

Not exciting. Not productive.

But quiet. And for now, that was enough. It had to be.

---

He bounced back on his heels, then rocked forward on the balls of his feet. Back and forth, back and forth. The constant movement made the ends of his hair brush his forehead and temples, a ticklish whisper that only stokes the restless energy jittering beneath his skin. But the steady shift of weight was the only thing keeping the buzzing, itching impatience in his chest from boiling over. Steve stood at the door before the containment floor, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tense with barely contained energy as he waited for the doors to open. His foot tapped once, twice, before he caught himself forcing it still. -Hmm… Bad cop immediately or.. Should I try for a friendlier approach?-

His eyes flicked to the guard on his right, noting the way the man tried not to look nervous. Then over to the one on his left, who smelled faintly of stale coffee and fear-sweat. The radio clipped to one of their chests crackled to life, a burst of static that made his shoulders twitch. His senses were sharper than usual today- running on overdrive to compensate for the cocktail they’d pumped into him- every little sound too loud, too heavy.

Bounce forward, bounce back. The movement continued, restless, impatient, almost rhythmic. -I could group a few of them together, make ‘em watch as I beat one of their buddies until they’re ready to talk… No. No, that won’t work. Especially not if they don’t even know anything, then it’s just senseless violence.-

He pushed out a long, controlled breath, closing his eyes briefly as he centered himself. -Buuuuut… They could have other answers.- He nearly jumped when the heavy metal doors gave their usual groaning rumble as they slid open. The sound vibrated through the floor and up his legs, he straightened with a grin that was a shade too sharp. -Welp… Guess I’ll just wing it.- He waved the guards off as he entered, dismissive, almost flippant, and made his way into the hall with a near-skip in his step. His body hummed with a strange mix of excitement and irritation, taking a path he was all too familiar with.

As he turned the corner, Steve let his fingers skim along the cold wall. The chilled surface felt nice against his oddly heated skin as he pressed his keycard into the scanner. The quiet beep and click were followed by the grinding slide of the door.

The room went silent the moment he stepped inside. The shift immediate- heartbeats speeding up, breaths catching, someone shifting their weight in a chair but freezing mid-motion. The only other sound was the faint electronic hum of the computers arranged around the room. He inhaled, the mingled scents of fear, metal, and old paper drifting in like smoke. His smile curled wider- predatory, practiced- as he strolled toward the main desk, each step unhurried, deliberate.

“I believe there’s a list of names for me.” He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet again, excitement creeping in, widening his smile to something a little too bright.

“Y-Yes, sir.” The man behind the desk stuttered, hands trembling as he yanked open the top drawer so fast it rattled the desk. Papers shuffled wildly as he dug through them before pulling free a file. He extended it toward Steve with both hands, like some kind of peace offering. “All- All their cell numbers and, and everything we’ve collected is inside.”

He hummed, plucking the folder from the man’s hands with a casual gentleness that somehow felt more threatening than anything else. “If things don’t go my way, might need body disposal.” He flipped the folder open, thumbing through the names and pictures. “Also… Cameras off.” He looked up, fixing the man with a hard stare- one he’d perfected down here, one that made heart rates trip and stutter. “You’re not new, you know how I work. No cameras, no audio. If I find out you peeked…” His voice dropped, velvet and venom. “I’ll feed you, alive, to my favorite monsters.”

The man went ghostly white, Adams apple bobbing too fast as he nodded rapidly. He spun to the wall of switches and monitors, hands fumbling over the toggled until everything went dark- screens, lights, audio indicators, recorders. The silence that followed was complete. “Und-Understood, sir. There’ll be nothing from me.”

“Good.” Steve snapped the file shut, the sound sharp in the otherwise quiet room, then turned on his heels for the door. “Anyone spies on me-” he called loudly, letting his voice carry, savoring the ripple of scents as the room collectively panicked, “-I’ll drink you dry.” And with that, he practically skipped out, snickering under his breath as the door slid closed behind him.

The laughter died into a smirk as he returned to thumbing through the file while he walked the dimly lit hall. -Hmm. One of the cooks swears up and down he was working on eggs the whole morning. Possible.. The head chef says he was working on French toast.. To my knowledge he never handles blood, but.. Actually, I might believe him. He’s a pretty nice guy for down here, just likes to do his job. Hates when people over salt the water.- He shrugged to himself, flipping the page with an idle flick of his thumb.

“Waiter says he only brings the glasses,” he muttered aloud, taking the first left. “One of the servers claims he saw a guard mumbling in the kitchens.” He snorted, rolling his eyes. “What a load of crap. Interrogations my ass. There’s nothing useful in here.” He had the urge to toss the file down the hall, let it scatter like leaves- but he stopped just before letting go, lips curling sharp. -I didn’t do school plays, or do dramatic storytelling the way Eddie and the kids do, but I can play a role if need be.-

Fingers drumming eagerly on the folder, he gave a little spin in the middle of the hallway, bouncing forward again on excited feet. -Their interviews might’a gotten nowhere. But I know juuuust how to get what I want.- He hummed under his breath something tuneless, almost jittery, as he continued down the dim hall. The lights above flickered as he passed, tiny pulses of shadow dancing over his face, grin widening the further he went.

Still humming, Steve turned down the next hall with a lazy swagger, fingers tapping out a quick rhythm he couldn’t recall ever hearing- tap tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap tap- as he approached the inner doors. He didn’t bother hiding his excitement; he loved this part- getting the first read on someone, listening to their pulse thump, watching their shoulders hunch, even the speed they blinked when they realized he was the one walking in.

Tap tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap tap.

It was no effort to punch in his code, listening to the way the locks disengaged one by one before he slipped through the opening doors. Down here, the hall narrowed, and the air grew colder the deeper the cell. By the time he reached the first row of cells doors, he thought he might see his breath.

He stopped outside the first door, staring at the number plated cleanly across it. Inside, the file claimed to be the first cook on the list- the one who supposedly “didn’t see anything” and “knew nothing”, which he very much doubted. Swiping his card quickly, he listened to the way the industrial locks clank one after another. With a grinding thud, the door slid open.

Inside, the man was worse off than the file claimed him to be- kneeling in the center of the empty room, ankles chained to the floor, wrists bound tightly to his ankles. It made the way his back arched look particularly painful. His clothes were torn too, a thick tear across the collar and a slash along his stomach, they were stained from sweat and whatever the guards had been feeding him in here. His hair was oily, plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his heartbeat spiked as soon as he glanced over- fast, frantic, loud enough that Steve could almost hear it without his.. Enhancements.

The cook lifted his head from its awkward angle, eyes wide and bloodshot. He tried to straighten, but the chains pulled taut, rattling in the quiet. The scent of fear permeated the air, rolling off sharp and tangy. Odd, but not unpleasant. -Huh.. New flavor.-

Steve stepped inside slowly- calm and composed, portraying the image of friendly- letting the door seal behind him the beep and thunk of the locks had the man flinching. He flipped open the file again, pretending to read as he leisurely dragged a lone metal chair across the concrete- scraping it loudly on purpose- before setting it right in front of the kneeling man.

Then he sat, crossing one ankle over his knee, leaning back comfortably as if settling in for a friendly chat. He leafed through the pages but didn’t actually read any of them, humming thoughtfully like he was impressed, or disappointed- he wasn’t sure yet which impression he wanted to give.

Either way, a warm, too-kind smile lit up his face.

“Well,” he started lightly, tapping the folder against his knee. “Let’s talk.” He tilted his head, studying the cook’s trembling posture, the desperation in his eyes. “I’m really hoping we can keep this nice, cooperative. Friendly even. You help me, I help you sorta situation.” He leaned forward, just slightly, voice softening in that dangerous, coaxing way- like a blade wrapped in velvet.

“So…” his smile sharpened a fraction. “Why don’t you start by telling me what really happened in the kitchens?” He watched every twitch- the stuttered inhale, the way the man’s shoulders tried to curl inward, the microflinch he couldn’t hide.

“I-” the cook rasped, throat bobbing around a painfully dry swallow.

“Would you like some water?” He offered brightly, already reaching toward a pitcher and an empty metal cup kept just in line of the man's sight. He poured it full, then held the cup out- biting back a smirk.

“Ah.. Sorry about that.” He stood up slowly, moving to crouch in front of the man. “Slow sips now.” He held the cup up to the man’s lips- tilting it just a bit too much- letting water spill down his chin and shirt as the man gulped greedily, desperately.

“Theeere we go.” He gave a toothy smile, standing back up to settle back into his chair, putting the pitcher and cup off to the side. “Now-” he crossed one leg over the other again, “I understand you were just doing your job. But everyone else? They’re all quite certain of your guilt. Especially after some of the others claimed they saw you messing around with the blood.”

The cook's eyes grew wide again, breathing speeding up as he weakly shook his head. “Was- Was getting from th-the stocks.”

“Getting what, from the stocks?” Steve leaned forward again, tone practically syrup, letting his smile be almost friendly. The man hesitated, and Steve let the silence stretch just long enough to become unbearable. “Listen… I really do want to help you. Truly. And if you answer honestly- trust me, I’ll know if you lie- I can make sure you’re released. With hazard pay, of course. But if you stay quiet…” He sighed, almost theatrically disappointed. “Well.. Unfortunately, the only other exit is a body bag. So… Let me. Help you.”

The man opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again. His pulse hammered so loudly Steve thought his heart might explode. -Ooo, first try maybe? Did I just get lucky?.. Maybe I should play the lottery.-

“I.. I needed… I needed the blood. I don’t- I don’t even work for that kitchen, I-...”

Steve leaned forward sharply, almost bent in half, nostrils flaring as he scented the air. “Go on.”

“You…” His eyes shot around as if paranoid someone else was listening. “I… I’m on the lower floors,” the man whispered, voice breaking. “Much… Much lower.” He licked his cracked lips. “I just… Needed the blood. We- We ran out. And they- they sent me up.”

Steve froze. His pupils narrowed, then widened, his thoughts slamming into each other. -He needed… He needed the blood. He needed the blood. Why? Why did he need it? Why is ‘they?’ Lower floors. Lower floors.- His jaw tightened. “What… Did you need the blood for?” he forced it out through gritted teeth, voice low, edged.

He watched the hard swallow and the way the man’s eyes flicked about, looking anywhere but at him. “I… I don’t know.” Steve breathed in- slow, testing. -Hmm.. Not lying.- “I-I.. I was just.. Just ordered to get it. That’s- that’s all. I swear.”

Steve hummed quietly, slowly nodding to himself. “Yeah… I believe you.” He leaned down, eyes sharp as a blade, staring directly at the cook. “Just one more question. One more, and I’ll have them take you straight to medical.”

The quiet stretched between them.

“Who knows?” He asked it softly, after watching the man shrink back with the silence. “Who knows why the blood was needed?”

---

It was all useless. Every single one of them. Well.. he still had two left. But so far? So far, nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing but screams, begging, one of the cooks crying on the floor begging to be released. But still, nothing came of it. -Well… I have a name. But that’s for something completely different. Side B of this entire fucked up problem. Side A… Nothing. No names, no leads, no reason for why I was poisoned.- The annoyance made his jaw tick, he could almost taste the bitterness of it again.

He let out a loud, deep groan that echoed down the quiet hall, the sound vibrating faintly back at him. He dragged a palm down his face resisting the urge to slam his head into the nearest wall- mostly because he’d crack the wall- and really didn’t want to hear all the complaints about it- not his skull.. At least he doesn’t think so.

The last several rooms had been a disaster. He’d gone full bad cop, playing fully into what they believed him to be. Claws out, fangs just shy of breaking skin, voice just sharp enough. And yet, not a single one of them knew a thing. Just fear. Layers and layers of it. Thick, choking fear that said more about him than he liked to think about. Fear it was so easy, so very easy. But it wasn’t an answer.

He stopped in front of the metal door labeled ninety-two, its numbers stenciled in bold black. The sight of it only made his annoyance spike higher as he swiped his keycard with a little more force than necessary, shoving through the opening door before it finished sliding aside.

The room- no, cell- was colder than the rest of them, artificially chilled to keep its occupant uncomfortable. The fluorescents above were buzzing annoyingly, flickering as though even the bulbs were exhausted by today’s running interrogations. The staff inside- a server, he thinks- was secured to the wall, arms stretched upward straining his shoulders, wrists cuffed so tightly the metal bit into skin. His legs were forced apart at an awkward angle by chains clearly designed not only to restrain, but to cause pain. He looked stiff, grimy, exhausted- just another cog in this miserable investigation to nowhere.

Steve stepped further in with a weary sigh, tossing the folder onto the only chair as if it offended him by existing. He didn’t bother walking to it, didn’t bother pretending to soften. Whatever patience he’d started this day with had been shredded hours ago. He could still taste lingering adrenaline on his tongue, still feel the leftover rush of earlier interrogations in his muscles.

“Listen..” He started, scrubbing a rough hand through his hair, rings catching on knots he hadn’t bothered fixing. “You’re like the hundredth person I’ve interviewed today. I’ve already sent half a dozen to medical with bonuses and whatnot because they really were innocent.” He waved a hand vaguely, starting to pace a slow track through the room just to keep himself from vibrating apart. “I’ve also sent a couple more to medical because I wanted the truth. So I’d really just like to get this all over with and get on with my work.”

His pacing continued, heavy boots clicking sharply against the floor. He barely looked at the man now, didn’t need to. He could hear every tremor, every heartbeat stutter, every shaky exhale. “So…” He paused mid-step, casting an assessing, almost bored look over the man. “Just tell me what you know. Or what you even suspect. And we can be on our separate ways.”

The man’s glare was sharp- enough to be impressive, given his situation- eyes narrowing as he held himself stiff in silence. Steve’s hands slipped into his pockets with a theatrical huff, eyes rolling. “C’mon, man. Even if it’s just to tell me you know nothing. Honesty’ll get you off that damn wall.”

“Fuck you,” the server hissed, spitting toward him with as much force as his chained position allowed.

Steve moved back smoothly, barely needing a thought to avoid it. He eyes the spot on the ground where it landed, nose wrinkling in distaste. “...That’s nice, but you’re not my type.” He deadpanned with a blank, bored stare. Then, almost lazily, an eyebrow lifted. “At least I know you can talk.” -Guess I gotta mix it up- he decided with an internal nod to himself, feeling irritation curl into something colder. He took a single step back, but didn’t loosen his hand. The pressure stayed, a reminder of how easily he could crush the bone. “Lie to me,” he continued, tone dropping into a low, almost intimate whisper. “Or refuse to answer. And I’ll gut you like a fish. Or… Maybe..” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll play a game with you. Maybe I’ll choke you until I watch the light leave your eyes. Depends on how I’m feeling really.”

Slowly, he withdrew, taking a measured step out of spitting distance. One hand returned to his pocket; the other lifted lazily to inspect his nails. He stretched his fingers outward, claws sliding out with a soft click before retracting again. A silent demonstration. A promise.

“Now…” He let the word drop with impatience. “Tell me about that morning.”

“Go. To. Hell.” The man growled, nostrils flaring.

Steve snorted, amused despite himself. “Been there,” he rolled his eyes. “A couple times, actually. It’s a lot colder than you think.” His claws extended again with a smooth, deliberate motion as he took a half step forward. The air in the room tightened, the hum of the lights seeming to dim beneath the weight of his presence. “I’ll give you one more chance.”

---

No one could say the man was weak- question after question after question, and still… Nothing. Not even a shift in his scent or a skipped heartbeat. Just stubborn, rigid silence.

Steve’s patience, already threadbare from the endless, useless interrogations, snapped like a twig over… The fucking silence. His jaw clenched, the faint grind of teeth audibly echoing in the cell’s dead air. He just stared at the man, something cold settling behind his eyes, narrowing them into thin slits that gleamed with something dark, darker than irritation- something almost feral, hungry. The flickering lights above stuttered again, their faulty glow casting jagged shadows across his face, making his eyes look just as hollow as he felt. A low, guttural sound vibrated out of him, rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. The man didn’t even flinch.

“Fine,” he muttered, voice too calm, like the kind of stillness that came right before a wildfire. Steve rolled his shoulders back with sharp cracks, tension snapping through him in lightning-quick stabs as he stretched his neck with a slow, dangerous tilt. “Fine. Fuck it. We’re done with questions. You don’t wanna play nice? That’s fine.” He cracked his neck, eyes gleaming. “Really. I’m flexible.”

Without another word, he flicked his wrist- a subtle gesture- yet the air thickened, heavy with pressure. The chains holding the server’s arms rattled violently as they suddenly yanked tighter, pulling his shoulders back to an agonizing angle. The man’s face twisted, a groan forcing its way up his throat, though he tried- foolishly- to swallow it down as sweat began to bead along his brow despite the chill of the room. Steve didn’t flinch, didn’t stop. Instead, his boots clicked slowly as he moved forward, each step controlled, rhythmic, a countdown.

“You think I can’t get what I want?” His tone was eerily conversational as he tilted his head, studying the man the way one studied a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. “See, that’s the problem with you people down here. You all think you’re tough shit, and you keep acting like I’ve got limits.” He reached out, dragging a single claw- just one- down the man’s cheek. Not enough to break skin, but enough to let him feel how sharp it was, enough to promise damage.

“But I’ve got all day. Hell, I’ve got all week. And trust me.. I always get what I want. I could kill you and all I’d get from Brenner is a ‘Oh Steven, was that really necessary?’ or a ‘Was there a reason for this one, Steven?’” he gives- what he thinks- is a near perfect impression. “And I’d say, ‘Mm, yep. Got bored.’ or ‘he pissed me off.’ And that’d be it. No reprimand, no punishments.” The man’s wrists trembled against the cuffs, but he still stayed silent. “I would like you to know.. I can go for days without rest.”

At the continued silence, his lips twitched, a humorless imitation of a smile. “That’s cute. Real tough guy, huh?” He paced a tight, calculated loop in front of him, gaze cutting over the man with predatory focus. “Let’s see how long that lasts once I really get started.” Another flick of his wrist- this one sharper. The chains around the man’s legs jerked, forcing his knees outward at a painful angle. Metal bit cruelly into skin now, and this time, a choked sound escaped the man, some mix between a groan and a scream, though he bit down hard on any further reaction.

Steve stopped in front of him again, folding his arms, tilting his head like he was genuinely fascinated. “Still nothing? Don’t wanna give me even a name? A hint? A goddamn guess?” His voice dropped lower with each word, colder and colder at the continued silence. “Y’know… You’re really starting to piss me off.”

He leaned in, close enough that the man could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over his cheek. “I’m not some little guard who’ll slap you around and call it a day,” he whispered, voice cutting and intimate. “And I’m certainly not Brenner, who’s gonna sit here and monologue at you until your brain melts.” His breath slid over the man’s ear, velvet-sharp. “I don’t need fancy tools. I don’t need knives. But I can rip your mind apart without touching a single hair on that annoyingly quiet head of yours.” He paused, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with him. “Or… I can rip your body apart instead. With my bare hands.” His smile had far too many teeth. “Your choice.”

The man’s breath stuttered, a tremor traveling down his arms and into the chains, but his jaw kept locked tight, eyes burning with fear tangled in defiance, something foolish but stubborn. His smirk dropped, replaced by a snarl that fully bared fangs now, gleaming sharp under the still annoyingly buzzing lights. His temper suddenly flared up hot and vicious as he slammed his palm against the wall beside the man’s head. The impact echoed like thunder, concrete cracking outward in messy spiderwebs, dust drifting away from the impact.

“Say something!” he roared, the words bouncing violently off the walls. “You think I’m playing games with you?! You think I won’t tear you apart?!” His hand shot up, gripping the man’s chin so hard it forced his head back against the wall. “Who. Poisoned. Me?” His voice dropped to a deadly snarl, eyes glowing faintly at the edges.

The man’s nostrils flared, breath coming faster, shaking, but still- still- he said nothing. Still refused. Still held that glare, even as his body shook from the strain of the chains.

Steve’s eyes widened- just a fraction of a second, easily missable- a flicker of disbelief flashing before it drowned under a wave of rage. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he hissed, shoving the man’s jaw away with enough force that his head cracked back against the wall. He stepped back with a harsh, humorless laugh. “Trained for this shit, huh? Great. Awesome. Fan-freakin-tastic!”

He didn’t restrain himself this time.

A twist of his hand sent the air itself pitching sideways. The man’s chest seized violently, a wheezing gasp ripping from him as the breath was yanked out of him in a single, painful moment. Steve didn’t bother asking again. Instead, his mind reached out, probing, not for thoughts- no matter how long he could now remember doing this, he still wasn’t that precise- but for pressure points, nerves, anything to cause pain. A quick push- sharp, focused- and the man’s left arm spasmed violently, jolting and attempting to twist as if lightning bolted straight through bone. The scream that finally tore free was raw and breaking, the kind that could shake walls.

The sound fed something in him, something that had been waiting, starving since he’d started this fruitless chase for answers. “TALK! TO! ME!” he shouted again, punctuating each word with another wave of pain. Then he targeted the other shoulder, wracking pressure against the joint until it popped audibly under the strain, not enough to break it, not yet. The man bit his lip hard, nearly biting through it, trying and failing to swallow the scream. His head fell forward for a split second before he forced it back up, still refusing, still silent, his stubbornness a wall Steve couldn’t seem to break.

“Goddamn it!” He snapped, taking both hands through his hair, claws he hadn’t even meant to release scratching at his scalp as he whirled away, pacing in frustrated, prowling strides, boots stomping against the floor hard enough to echo around them. His chest rose and fell quickly, anger boiling so hot it felt like it might physically burst out of him. Then- just as suddenly- he spun back, fangs full bared, eyes blazing molten and wild. “I’ve got nothing to lose here, asshole! NOTHING! Tell me what you know or I’ll carve it out of you, starting with that limp shrimp you call a cock!”

He lunged, grabbing the man’s shirt front and yanking him forward until the chains screamed in protest, metal twisting, the man’s bones creaking under the strain. Their faces were inches apart, Steve’s breath hot and ragged, the man’s shaking. “Last chance,” he growled, voice low and vibrating with power. “Who. Poisoned. Me?” He shoved the man back again, hard enough the chains rattled violently, then raised his hand and gripped the man’s jaw, squeezing tighter this time, claws digging just enough to threaten skin.

“Ffffffuck you!” the man spat out.

Steve froze. Then slowly, carefully, he reached up to wipe his cheek with the back of his hand, nostrils flaring. The slap came fast- so far it was almost a blur- his hand cracking across the man’s face hard enough to whip his head sideways.

He exhaled sharply, almost disappointed. “Now.. Look what you made me do.”

For a long, simmering second, he just stood there, looking at the back of his hand in disgust. Then, calmly, he reached over and wiped it off on the man’s shirt. The server’s head hung sideways from the hit, blood welling in a thin line where one of his claws had dragged by accident- nothing serious, nothing messy, more of a rough scrape than a cut.

“Unbelieveable…” he muttered, shaking his head slightly, turning to pace away a few short steps as he ran a hand over his face. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

The chains rattled faintly as the man tried to straighten, breath wet and uneven, but still- still- not giving him anything. No apology. No pleading. Not even a tremble now. Just that same stubborn defiance that had been wearing at Steve’s nerves like sandpaper.

He let out a shaky laugh. “You’ve got some kind of death wish, don’t you?” He turned back around, expression shifting- no longer furious, no longer snarling. But cold. Too calm, too flat. He stepped forward with a slow, calm stride, heels clacking like clock ticks.

When he stopped again, he was right back where he started. But this time he didn’t raise a hand, didn’t flex a claw, didn’t touch the man at all. All he did was lift his chin, just slightly, eyes narrowing as he reached outward with a part of himself he had rarely ever used, and only when he was pushed.

The air changed- pressurized, became tight, tinged faintly metallic as something invisible twisted, like heat rippling through the concrete. The chains holding the server quivered, bolts whining, metal groaning as if something unseen dragged its fingertips over every surface.

The man swallowed, hard.

Steve’s smile was small. Not amused. Not cruel. Just.. resigned. “You know what happens when I stop caring whether you walk out of here or not, right?” A subtle flick of his fingers and the man’s arm jerked again- harder this time. The gasp that ripped from him was unfiltered, unguarded. Still no broken bones, not yet. But every nerve screamed under the pressure he pushed into them. Another flick and the man’s head was forced straight, eyes forcibly moving to look directly at him.

He stepped closer, voice dropping to a low whisper, almost too low for humans to hear. “I told you before… I don’t need tools. I don’t need a knife. I can pull you apart cell by cell, if I feel like it.” Another twist of his wrist- the one more certain, a sudden spike of sensation that wracked the man’s left side from shoulder to toes. Not enough to damage, just enough to warn.

The man’s teeth ground together, jaw shaking, breath breaking in tiny, involuntary bursts.

Still silent.

And somehow, that silence was so much louder than any scream could be.

But he could only be so patient.

Reaching over, leaning his hand against the wall beside the man’s head again- not in rage this time, but in sheer exasperation. “I should’ve started with you,” he muttered. “Could’ve saved myself hours of talking to idiots who barely remember their own names. Or.. Pissed themselves the second I showed fangs.”

He grabbed the man’s face again, fingers digging in just under the jawline, forcing his head side to side as he looked over his cheek. “I’m gonna ask you one more time,” he kept his voice tight, almost a growl. “Not because you deserve another chance. But because I’m done wasting energy on you.” He pushed out once more- enough pressure to make the metal restraints shake like struck bells.

“So… Who poisoned me?”

The man’s eyes burned with a stubborn fire, breath shaking but his resolve unbroken. “Go-” his voice cracked, strained, but still fierce “-burn.”

His inhale was slow. Too slow. Dangerous.

Then, he stepped back. A smile slowly spread across his face.

A thin, humorless, exhausted smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You really think you’re winning something here. But you’re not. And I’m done babysitting your ego.” He lifted his hand again, palm open, fingers slightly flexed. The air tightened around the man’s ribs this time, a controlled squeeze- not crushing or breaking anything, but unmistakably painful. Enough to drop most others into sobbing confessions.

The man shuddered, teeth clenched tight, but managed not to scream.

His eyes softened- not kindly, but with a hollowed-out sort of disappointment. “This was your last out,” he kept it quiet. “You really should’ve taken it.” He dropped his hand, claws retracting quietly; the pressure vanishing. But the cell felt heavier than before- dense with exhaustion, lingering fury, and the bitter taste of failure Steve couldn’t stand.

He turned toward the door keeping his movements slow, boots scraping across the floor. He paused, hand hovering near the keypad. “I suppose I’ll be back when I get hungry then, since you don’t know anything. Still have others to see. Mm.. You’ll be dead by dinner.”

But he didn’t move, just stood there, hand hovering over the buttons. Eventually the keypad’s light flickered off from inactivity, the faint flick almost loud in the sudden stillness of the cell. He stared at the darkened panel for a long second, eyes narrowing with something that wasn’t quite anger, but close enough. -See Henderson, I’m adaptable.-

Then, slowly, his expression shifted- softening first, then turning into something sly, something amused. “You know…” he began, voice unhurried, as though this were just a lazy friendly conversation. A smile crept across his face, subtle, but brightening with each word. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to try. Saw it in a movie once. I mean- it was one of those big ones- franchise, merch everywhere- some of my kids dragged me to see it. I wasn’t really interested at first.” He paused, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “Actually, no. At first, I swore I wouldn’t go. Too much noise, too many people, a bunch of nerd crap I wouldn’t understand.”

He kept talking, purposely, savoring each sentence like a piece of candy. He knew the man wouldn’t interrupt him, but a part of him hopes he might. Hopes he’d try, just to shut him up. That made his smile linger.

“But then one of the kids- my favorite. Now I know, I know, I’m not supposed to play favorites, and don’t tell him about it. His ego’s already the size of a small planet- anyway, he begged me to go a second time. Practically attached himself to my arm like some sort of barnacle.” He huffed a short laugh, shoulders lightly shaking. “Hard to say no to that kind of enthusiasm. Makes you feel… Loved. Needed, I guess.”

He turned back around, back to the keypad, his smile softening at the memory before sharpening again as his eyes took in the man. “Now.. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen it. A New Hope- the original Star Wars. Kind of a rite of passage for them these days to have all seen it at least once a year, hell, once every few months. Anyway, there’s this one scene- this one blink and you miss it kinda scene. Like, it’s pretty forgettable compared to the rest of the movie. It’s this almost like this whoa moment where the big bad, Vader, does this neat little trick with his hand. He uses the uh.. The force. To choke someone.”

The man’s eyes widened and Steve’s smile widened with them. “And while my kid may not have wanted me to become the ‘big bad’ myself.. Well.” He gave an almost innocent shrug. “I really just can’t help myself.”

He slowly raised his arm, hand outstretched until his fingers hovered in the air, curled as though grasping something invisible. It was deliberately unhurried, not dramatic, simply inevitable. The moment his fingers tensed, the man’s breath hitched sharply, body jerking against the chains. Steve’s grin curved just a bit crueler.

A laugh- quiet, breathy- escaped him as he curled his fingers tighter, watching the man struggle, chest spasming in shallow frantic attempts at air. For a moment, he didn’t speak, just observed, head tilted like he was admiring art. -Wonder if Eddie would find it as fun as my.. What did he call it? Exploding screams?-

Then, just as quickly, he loosened his fingers.

The man sagged, greedily dragging in air. Steve’s smile brightened as if he were really pleased, listening to the man suck in breath after breath. “See? I’ve decided to be a little more lenient today. Give you another chance or two to answer me. Er- well, at least until I get bored.” He tightened his fingers- twisting his wrist slightly, like he was adjusting a dial. The man choked, unwilling tears running down his cheeks, face reddening as his throat constricted. He held it for a moment, savoring the tension in the air, before relaxing again. Then, just to watch the reaction- he immediately tightened his fingers again. “Aww, c’mon now. I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He finally dropped his hand, letting it fall lazily at his side as he stepped forward, closing the space between them with an unhurried confidence. He leaned in, slightly, voice warm, happy even. “Have anything to say?”

The man just swallowed roughly, breath shaking, nostrils flaring as Steve raised a brow. “Oh, and spit on me again.” he kept his tone mild, still smiling, almost happy it seemed, “and I’ll make your heart regret beating.” He reached up then, taking the man’s chin gently- almost tenderly- between thumb and forefinger. “One more time,” he said it softly, coaxing. “Have anything to say to me?”

Silence stretched- long enough that Steve began to pull back, disappointed- when the man exhaled a trembling whisper. “Y-You.. You’re a-a piece of sh-shit.”

Steve lit up with a too bright smile- if he’d looked in a mirror, he’d call himself unhinged- bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Aww. You’re too kind.” He patted the man’s cheek lightly, then let his hand drift, fingers brushing over features he examined with idle curiosity. “I can be kind too, you know.” He then cupped the man’s cheek fully, thumb resting just above the cheekbone before moving to hover just over his eye. He let his voice soften, almost affectionate.

“But sometimes people test that kindness. Push me. Try to see how far it can go.” He pressed his thumb faintly- not enough to injure, but enough to make his intention clear. “And I wouldn’t… Truly wouldn’t… Recommend trying to find the line where my kindness ends, and the rest of me begins.” His thumb pressed just a little more, just enough pressure to make the man tense in fear. “You don’t actually need both eyes to talk. Now.. Little fun fact about me is, I have some experience in this area. I know how to take an eye out without killing someone. I could be neat about it, use my claws to remove it cleanly. Or.. Well, pressing hard enough, it’ll eventually just… Pop. Which could kill you if it’s not taken care of right away, sepsis and all that. So… Which do you prefer?”

The man stayed silent -big shock there- but Steve could hear his thick swallow. He sighs through his nose, like he was dealing with a stubborn child, and presses his thumb harder- still not too dangerous, but enough to make the threat feel real, enough to make the man’s muscles hold stiff beneath him. “I think I enjoy the messier option.” He murmured, leaning in closer. “Not the result so much- just the sounds. The way your blood pumps faster and your heart thuds the harder I press in. Something about it satisfies the part of me that isn’t so kind.”

His thumb suddenly pressed in hard now, firm, pushing in on the mans-

“Okay! Okay, okay-” the man gasps out, having finally stopped biting into his bloody bottom lip as his breath came in ragged, panicked pulls. His chest heaved like he’d been drowning for hours and only just breached the surface. “I-” He sucked in air again, sharp and desperate, like his lungs were burning. “I… I’ll talk.”

“Oh, wonderful!” He pulled back immediately, the shift in him abrupt and jarring, all sharp edges smoothing out as if a switch had been flipped. He clapped his hands together, the sound bouncing off the walls as his expression brightened, almost sunny, like they’d just been playing a game. “See? Cooperating really does make everything easier.” He looked briefly to the man’s eye, looking it over with an almost clinical calm before he nodded to himself. “You’re lucky I didn’t yet push hard enough. You’ll be fine once the pain stops.”

He took a step back, moving over to the chair, lowering himself into it with an easy, relaxed posture, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee, hands folding over his lap. “So… Talk. Tell me what you know, and if you lie to me…” His smile sharpened just a fraction, teeth, now blunt, flashing. “I think I’ll bite you this time.”

With his body trembling, the man sagged back against the wall as far as the chains allowed. His breathing was loud, wet, uneven, as if every inhale was a struggle. “You’re fucking insane-” he rasped, voice hoarse, each word dragged out and punctuated by a heavy, shaking exhale. He let out a weak, humorless sound that might’ve been a laugh if it hadn’t been so broken. “You said- You said you wouldn’t know. And you just…” His eyes flicked up, unfocused, almost disbelieving. “You actually fucking don’t?”

Steve suddenly straightened, the casual amusement draining from his face in an instant. His spine went rigid, one hand clenching, brows pinching together, confusion flashing sharp and sudden. “...What the hell are you talking about?” The words came slow, measured, the playfulness gone. He thought he was done with all the blank spots, all the missing moments.

The man let his head fall back, the dull thud against the wall echoing in the cell. There was no fear in his eyes anymore. No defiance either. Just exhaustion- and something far worse beneath it, acceptance. The kind that came from someone who had already run through every outcome in their head and knew they all ended the same. He looked like a puppet with its strings cut, resigned to his face. “This-” he breathed, voice thin, hollow, like the words hurt to say. “This whole thing.”

Steve didn’t interrupt, didn’t move. Just watched, and that cold pit inside him felt as if it were growing, widening, sinking deeper with every second of silence that stretched between them.

“The plan-” the man continued quietly, eyes unfocused but staring at something far off. “The plan. The poison. The interrogations.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed roughly, mouth too dry. “Your own fucked up head.” There was a soft, bitter, broken laugh- he wasn’t sure if it came from the man or him. “All of it. All of it was your plan. Your idea. Your design.” He lifted his head just enough to look at Steve directly, eyes glassy but steady. “You set it all up. Every step. You decided what you’d know. You decided how you’d react. You decided who you’d hurt.”

Steve felt the words hit him like a physical blow, like the air had been knocked clean from his chest. His hands shook where they were clenched in his lap, nails biting into skin. “That’s… That’s not-” he started, but couldn’t get anymore out, mouth suddenly dry.

“This whole goddamn thing,” the man pressed on, voice gaining a shaky momentum now, as if the truth refused to be bottled up any longer. “The poison was your idea. A trigger. A safeguard. Something to push you where you needed to go without you questioning it. The fear, the anger, the fucking interrogations-” He shook his head weakly. “You needed to believe someone else did it all. Needed the rage, the confusion. You built it up this way.”

His stomach twisted, horror creeping in slow and sickening, heartbeat pounding too loud in his ears. “No,” he breathed, more to himself than to the man. “That’s not… Not possible.” But he knew, even if it was somewhere deep down, it had to be true.. He couldn’t smell any lies.

The man met his eyes again, but there was no triumph there, no gloating. Just a tired certainty. “It is. Because you knew you couldn’t trust anyone else to do it right.”