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Steve knocks on the creaky door of the trailer, barely hearing the hollow noise his fist makes when it collides with the door. He feels fidgety, like he's about to start laughing and crying all at once as he rocks back and forward on his feet, and his stomach is twisting and turning so much that he couldn't eat this morning. Or afternoon. Maybe that's why he feels so weird - low blood sugar or something.
He relaxes slightly at the justification for his fluttering stomach just as the door opens, feeling the rain for possibly the first time since he stepped out of the car.
"Salutations, Emperor Harrington," Eddie greets dramatically, sweeping his arms into a motion that beckons Steve to step up and past the threshold.
"Hey, man," Steve replies tiredly, turning to Eddie as he closes the door behind them. He takes the moment to really look at him, to assess the person in front of him.
Eddie's hair is still wildly untamed and absolutely fucking magnificent, but his attire is casual; just an Iron Maiden tee-shirt with the sleeves cut off and some red, flannel pajama pants.
Steve's not looking so hot himself, wearing just some sweatpants and a Tears For Fears short-sleeved shirt. He thinks Eddie is about to make fun of him for it but instead, Steve looks up to see Eddie examining him back.
"Tell me, why have you stumbled into my abode on this inclement evening?" Eddie asks, a flourish in his voice that Steve isn't sure is intentional.
"Well.. everyone is busy. Robin is working an extra shift with some random sophomore, the kids are, like, sleeping because it's Wednesday, and.. you're my only other option."
"I'm wounded, Harrington, truly. Where are your manners? You show up at a guy's doorstep and then tell him he's your last ditch attempt? That you'd pick a bunch of 15 year olds over him?!" Eddie puts a hand to his heart and tilts his head back, doing a cheesy impression of someone who actually cares. "Also, it's 5:30. And summer vacation. I'm sure your little posse is hanging around somewhere. Sounds to me like you wanted to come see me."
Steve fixes him with an exasperated and irritated expression. "Yeah, fine, Munson. So what? Do I need to ask permission to drop by and ask my friend how he's doing after enduring life-altering trauma?"
"Permission granted, I guess," Eddie replies, smiling.
Their eyes meet and they begin laughing, letting it fade into the warm atmosphere after a few moments.
"No, really, man, how are you holding up?" Steve asks, stepping closer to clap Eddie's shoulder. Eddie meets his eyes and then looks away again, thinking.
"Well, I mean.. y'know. Not too fabulously, obviously."
"What? You're plenty fabulous."
"Yeah, great, I'll remember that next time I have a nightmare so paralyzing that I can't do anything but try and breathe. Emphasis on try," Eddie says. His words are cold but he's chuckling, looking slyly at Steve with a wide grin.
"Like.. panic attacks?" Steve infers, not finding it quite as funny as Eddie. There's nothing wrong with putting a bit of humor into the situation, but he wants to know how he can help his friends. How he can help Eddie.
"I mean, maybe. I don't-. Shit, yeah, wait, you're right on the money, Stevie. I used to get those in middle school. This feels like that, but worse," Eddie smiles weakly, looking over to meet Steve's worried gaze with a tired one.
The eye contact is prolonged but not tense, just a quiet moment between the two as a blanket of understanding settles over them. Steve’s hand is still gripping Eddie’s shoulder, and he can feel the warmth of Eddie’s skin through the cotton of his shirt. Steve opens his mouth to say something, but nothing feels right, so he just slides his hand to Eddie’s back and loops his other arm around him to grasp him in a hug. Eddie jolts a little, before reciprocating and coiling his own arms around Steve’s back.
They stay like that for a little while, and Eddie goes to pull back because he doesn’t want Steve to think he’s weird for holding on for so long, but Steve tugs him back again, closer.
“Touch-starved, Steve?” Eddie asks, chuckling and tightening his fists in the back on Steve’s shirt.
“Yeah, a little bit,” Steve replies, fully serious. His voice is muffled by Eddie’s shoulder that Steve currently has his head pressed into, and it’s endearing in a way that makes Eddie’s heart clench and twist and flop and a million other things that would be entirely concerning if it weren’t proverbial.
“That’s alright. There’s not enough hugs in the world to undo the shit we’ve seen, but they help. So..” Eddie trails off. He doesn’t want to say what he’s thinking, doesn’t want to open that floodgate. Doesn’t want Steve to realize what he’s feeling and look at him with that utter disgust that he’s seen on the faces of so many past confidants.
“So..?” Steve prompts, picking up his head to see if he can pry the information out of Eddie using eye contact. It works, because Eddie was already looking at Steve, but he decides not to read too far into it.
“So, um, if you need a hug or whatever, just let me know. Man.”
Eddie tries to alleviate the weight of the sentence by tacking on a friendly nickname but it just highlights the awkwardness, or at least he thinks it does, but Steve just looks kind of thoughtful.
Once again, they dissolve into silence, tuning out everything but the other’s pattern of breathing. Steve’s mind is trailing off periodically back to Eddie, and the way he smells, and the way his hands feel on his back, and the softness of his hair against Steve’s neck, and he’s been doing really good lately with not thinking about that so he tries desperately to snap himself out of it.
Steve’s mind races to focus on literally anything else; the fly buzzing around in the ceiling light, the buzz of the refrigerator, the quiet blare of music coming from what he can only assume is Eddie’s room, the low chattering of the kids outside of the trailer’s door.
Wait. The kids?
“Eddie,” Steve says, suddenly pulling back from their embrace. Eddie braces himself. Why are you hugging me so tightly? Why are you acting so queer? Are you fucking sniffing me?! But he doesn’t expect Steve to say “I think the kids are here.”
“The what?” Eddie questions, unprepared for the situation. He doesn’t give Steve a chance to answer, though, processing the words after a moment. “Okay, uh, why don’t you go to my room and chill out, because you look dead tired and I doubt whatever this is will be worth another health risk for you. Go get those recommended 8 hours, Steve-O. I’ll deal with these little fuckers.”
“Uh, yeah. Okay, sure,” Steve replies, abruptly aware of how exhausted he is. So tired that he’s sort of uncomfortable, to the point that he doesn’t even try to argue with Eddie taking care of whatever situation the party has gotten themselves into this time.
He follows the buzz of the new Metallica album spinning on Eddie’s turntable and collapses onto the red comforter that’s draped surprisingly neatly over the mattress, sheets, and bedframe. In fact, Steve notes, Eddie’s whole room is surprisingly clean. Despite the style of maximalism expressed through a plethora of posters, stickers, and photographs (and are those handcuffs?!) pinned and tacked to the wall, the floor is pretty clean beside the guitar amp, the odd tee shirt here and there, and furniture, of course.
He has a dresser with a mirror that serves as a sort of backboard, and Steve might call it a vanity if the word wasn’t so contrary to the image of it. The wood is dark, and there are various carvings of band names and little symbols that he can't identify along the spruce boards. Steve gets up in spite of every bone in his body screaming for rest, going to investigate it further. The mirror is a little dusty, and it's lined with stickers and post-its. The stickers are, again, bands, with the exception of a small rainbow one, and Steve scans the post-it notes. His favorites read get milk u stupid ass, socks THEN shoes, and apply deoderint deodorent deoddorint smell good stick, and an honorable mention for dnd moved to 5:45 wednesday DO NOT 4GET!!!, which soothes Steve’s nerves and curiosity on why Mike and Dustin were bantering outside of Eddie’s doorstep.
There’s a little glass bowl on the top-right corner filled to the brim with chunky, silver rings. Steve combs through them and finds a particularly interesting one with a red gem and a dark silver band. An even darker shade of metal lines the gem with a circle of intricate designs, trailing off onto and around the band, sloping down to the flat band in the back. On the inside is a small, dark, and shallow engraving that says 5/29/76. Interesting. Steve files that away and drops the ring back into the bowl with a metallic clink.
There’s not much else of note on the surface of the bureau (save for a bottle of clumpy, sticky, and black nail varnish. Steve makes a mental note to buy Eddie some new polish, one that doesn’t look eight years expired), and Steve doesn’t feel quite right diving into Eddie’s drawers.
He stumbles back over to the bed, flopping down face-first and hearing the springs as the mattress is forced to support his weight. His eyes close automatically, and he falls asleep feeling fuzzy with his hair splayed out half-hazardly on Eddie’s pillows and blanket to the sound of quiet guitar shredding and the unmistakable pitch of Mike Wheeler being a proper little shit as he argues with Eddie.
Meanwhile, Eddie realizes that he totally blanked on their change of schedule, and begrudgingly guides the kids to the small dining table in the corner of his dimly-lit kitchen to half-heartedly torture them with an even stronger monster. Needless to say he’s a little pissed that they interrupted, and it doesn’t help that he feels too cold without Steve’s arms convoluting his torso.
After around half an hour, Mike throws his arms up in frustration and groans, leaning into Will (who’s visiting for a portion of the summer [maybe moving back? Steve isn’t quite sure]) and glaring at Eddie.
“What did we ever do to you, man?” Mike asks.
“Yeah, seriously! Take it easy, Eddie,” Dustin says, battling Eddie’s flat and agitated glare with a confused one.
“I will do no such thing, you heathens. However, I will allow for you to take a five-minute break to strategize before you get absolutely annihilated by Boneless. Remember, guys, he’s-”
“Bigger, bloodthirstier, and made of three deceased souls this time,” Lucas finishes, sighing. “Yeah, Eddie, we’ve only heard that about 1,000 times. That doesn’t make it easier to stomach.”
“I’m gonna use your bathroom,” Mike says moodily, pulling his chair out extra harshly just to scrape Eddie’s floorboards more. Eddie flips him off from behind his back as he disappears into the hallway, not even giving Mike the satisfaction of looking up.
That is, until Mike fucking shrieks, startled by a figure shifting around on Eddie’s bed. Eddie momentarily forgets about Steve taking up in his room and his mind jumps to the worst possible scenario, trying desperately to recall Mike ever saying anything about music he likes. He hops up and races to the hall, the rest of the kids in Hellfire on his heels. Just as his brain supplies a ‘Maybe Duran Duran? No- no, Journey?’, he takes in the sight of Mike Wheeler decidedly not floating, just staring into Eddie’s room curiously.
When Eddie realizes that Mike probably just scared the shit out of Steve, he pushes past him into his room to find a terrified-looking Steve, curled in on himself, hands having flown straight to his healing scar out of instinct. His chest is heaving and his face is expressing an amount of trepidation that makes Eddie want to just rush up to him and kiss him silly.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Wheeler. Really? I half-expected your bones to be split and your eyes to be sucked out of their sockets. You can’t go around shouting in an ex-portal to the fucking underworld!!!” Eddie bellows, feeling mean from fatigue.
Mike, being the instigator he is, roars back, not helping the situation. “Oh, well I’m sorry if I’m a little jumpy, it’s not like I’ve been traumatized by incarnates of Hell since I was 12 years old!”
Eddie brings a hand to his head, done with this shit, as Dustin peeks around the doorframe with Will.
“What’s going on? Wait, Steve?” Dustin asks, slipping into the room and craning his neck to try and see behind Eddie, who’s doing his best to shield a vulnerable man from a room full of inquisitive eyes.
“Guys, just.. Fuck off for a second. Go plan for Boneless. I’ll be back in a minute,” Eddie says, his tiredness seeping into his tone. He can tell Mike is about to start prying but Will grabs him by the arm and tugs him along with the rest of the kids. Thank God, because if Eddie had to be an asshole for one more second he was going to start crying.
As the footsteps fade off onto the kitchen’s tiles, Eddie turns to Steve. “Sorry about that,” he says, looking worried. “I kinda forgot you were crashing here and then Mike just- yeah.”
“No worries, man, it’s-” Steve cuts himself off with a yawn. “I was having a nightmare anyway.”
Eddie takes a moment to examine Steve, and he honestly looks worse than he looked before sleeping. Not only does he still look overtired, he looks sad and scared.
“Is there anything I can help with?” Eddie asks awkwardly, rocking back on his heels. He’s not quite sure how to help, scrambling to remember what he needs when he’s in Steve’s situation.
“I need some water,” Steve says, and Eddie immediately nods and turns to go get him some before he continues. “Wait, Eddie, I’m-” he hops up off of the bed, noticeably disheveled, “I’m coming with you. Don’t think I can be alone for a few minutes.”
“Sure, dude,” Eddie says, reaching out an arm. He’s not sure what he expects Steve to do with it, but he knows it helps him ground himself to grab onto another living, breathing person. Steve decides to wrap his own arms around it, walking beside Eddie and hugging his arm like a girl would her prom date.
They walk to the kitchen at a relatively normal pace, Eddie making sure to keep his eyes on Steve. The patter of their socks against the floor alerts the kids, and they all perk up and watch as Eddie and Steve enter the kitchen.
Eddie watches Steve see the party and try to perk up along with them, trying to muster the strength to look okay, but he just can’t. The bags under his eyes betray the weak smile he’s flashing towards Lucas, Mike, Dustin, and Will, even though the smile basically betrays itself anyway.
Eddie steers them over to the cabinet and reaches up to grab a glass wordlessly, while Steve disconnects himself from his arm and slumps back against the mint-green painted counter with a marble countertop.
“What’s Steve doing here anyway?” Mike asks, unable to leave well enough alone. Luckily, seeing Steve has restored some of Eddie’s patience.
“We were hanging out before you rapscallions showed up at my doorstep begging to LARP,” Eddie replies without malice, giving Mike a little grin to try and dissolve some of the heavy tension clouding the room.
“You invited him over just so he could take a nap?? Do you guys sleep together or something?” Mike questions innocently, before quickly registering what he just said. “Sorry, wait, that’s.. Not what I meant..”
Mike covers his red face with a hand, looking like he wants to sink into the ground and disappear forever, so Eddie decides to play it cool for his sake, despite feeling the same way.
“No, Wheeler, we’re not napping buddies or whatever else you’re implying. I told him to go catch up on some sleep while I found out what the hell you guys were doing at my place on a non-club day.
“Dude, we rescheduled. You knew we were meeting today,” Dustin exclaims, gnawing on a blueberry granola bar.
“I’m not saying I didn’t, Henderson. I just forgot, and Steve happened to drop by around the same time that you guys were coming over. Cut me some slack, kid.”
As the kids transition into mindless conversation between the four of them, Eddie drops some ice into the glass and walks it over to Steve, knocking on his forehead gently as if it were an old door.
“Hey, Stevie,” he says quietly, just for the two of them to hear. “You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Steve replies, taking the glass but not drinking it. “It’s just been a while since I’ve had a really bad nightmare like that one. I wasn’t prepared for it, like, I fell asleep feeling so safe.”
“That’s awful,” Eddie says, his face twisting into one of genuine pain and sympathy. He can’t help but lean forward and capture Steve in another hug, this one shorter than the last. When he pulls back, Steve is sipping the glass of water and looking at him pensively.
“I can’t tell if you’re about to knife me or confess your undying love for me, Harrington,” Eddie blurts out nervously. He notices Will looking over at them.
“Definitely confess my undying love,” Steve says, nodding and taking another sip. The scary part is that Eddie can’t tell if he’s joking or not, and he feels completely lost and anxious. But still warm, weirdly enough, because it’s Steve.
Steve, who would never judge him. Steve, who used to be a bully and is now friends with a band of outcasts. Steve, whose best friend is a lesbian, and he knows, and he’s fine with it. Steve, who would probably be maybe okay with Eddie being queer and in love with him. Probably. Maybe. Kinda. Oh God.
“Eddie?” Steve says again, tugging on him with the grip he has on his shoulder.
“Sorry, just spaced out,” he chuckles uneasily.
“Here,” Steve tells Eddie simply, pushing the glass into his hand. There’s about half of the water left, and Eddie hesitates before taking a sip. The cold water rushing down his throat does help to clear his head, though, and he tries to regain any remote sense of control over his brain and mouth. Bonus points if he can get his heart rate to chill the fuck out, too.
“Thanks.”
They stand idly together, less than a foot apart, and Eddie feels suddenly vulnerable, realizes he’s been vulnerable this entire time. With Steve, he doesn’t even have to try to open up, it just kind of happens. He’s never met someone who really understands what he’s saying most of the time, but Steve seems to be unable to convey emotions in the right sense either, so their warped explanations of feelings translate perfectly from one to the other.
“You make me feel safe, Harrington. So, thanks. Again,” Eddie mutters, unable to help the monotonous tone his voice takes on. It was either that or an unbearable amount of emotion leaking into the words, and being a closeted guy raised in a conservative town means that Eddie would be experiencing mild repression even if he were completely open and confident about his sexuality, which he’s not. So, obviously he doesn’t want to reveal every goddamn feeling he’s ever felt in front of five people. It doesn’t matter that they’re his friends, it’s just hard to feel right expressing his feelings when his whole life he’s been doing his best to shove them down and down and down until maybe they’d crinkle together and fall out of his ear.
But Steve is looking at him so sincerely, and Eddie’s not sure if the look in his eyes is confusion or reciprocation or something else entirely. He doesn’t have to stand there pondering, though, because Steve begins talking again.
“Can I, possibly, go back to bed? It’s okay if not, I can drive home, it’s just that I’m already here, so..”
“Drive home? Fat chance, Steve-o. You’d probably fall asleep on the wheel. Come on,” he says, grabbing Steve by the hand and leading him back to his room. The kids are still lost in their conversation and seem ultimately unbothered by Eddie’s five minute recess turning into the end of the game.
Eddie closes the door once they reach his room, just to give them some privacy in case Steve wants to talk some more, and expects to see the other laying down on his bed. Instead, Steve is standing almost directly behind him, scaring the shit out of him when he turns around.
“Jesus Christ, Steve-!” Eddie starts, laughing and gasping.
“Eddie,” Steve responds, in a totally contrary tone. His voice is serious and gentle, unwavering. He takes another step toward Eddie, who has so little space that there’s mere inches between him and Steve, and who has no escape since the door is right behind him.
Steve looks Eddie right in the eyes. “You make me feel safe, too, Munson. It was really nice having some help with the aftermath of.. Well, everything. Sometimes I’m too freaked out, or just embarrassed to give anyone a call, since it’ll just go away eventually anyway. Thank you.”
“Yeah, no, it’s..” Eddie trails off, his voice weak and quiet. His eyes are wide and confused, looking right at Steve’s own dark, expressive eyes, and Eddie can tell he wants something, maybe wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t get the time to figure it out, though, because he’s stupidly in love with and attracted to Steve and can’t help quickly flicking his gaze down to look at his lips and Steve notices the microexpression and leans in with no apprehension, just tenderness.
Their chapped lips meet and Eddie’s whole being explodes with warmth and emotion and he’s fucking tearing up, tugging Steve closer. It’s so much, being so tired, and suddenly getting something that you want so badly it’s been tearing you apart. Steve is feeling the same exact way, holding onto Eddie for dear life, cocooning him in his arms.
Steve's stomach flutters, feeling Eddie's racing heart against his own as he pulls them impossibly close together. Their chests, ribcages, shirts, and everything else in between are doing hardly anything to mute the pulse of their thrumming hearts against each other, and it's one of the weirdest and best feelings he's ever experienced.
Eddie pulls away, panting and resting their foreheads against each other. The two of them have nearly become one, sharing a pattern of breathing and sharing that uncomfortable swell of emotion that they're so used to pushing away, and it's taking form in the most emotionally charged embrace Eddie's ever been a part of.
Eddie moves one of his arms, grappling behind himself for the door knob.
"Hey guys, we're turning in for now! You guys can stay for a while as long as you're not betraying some curfew that's gonna get me an angry call from Mrs. Wheeler," Eddie shouts to the group in the kitchen, earning various scoffs (Mike) and laughs (everyone else).
With the door slightly cracked and the record no longer spinning on the turntable, Eddie tugs Steve over to the bed and collapses down onto it with heft, Steve following suit.
"Look at us, going to bed at 6:30. How the mighty have fallen," Eddie says, using his last moments of consciousness to talk to his favorite person before his energy depletes entirely. His eyes aren't even open.
"S'fine, man.. night," Steve replies, hardly hearing what Eddie said over the overwhelming urge to crash and not wake up for upwards of ten hours.
Eddie falls asleep chuckling about Steve calling him 'man' directly after they'd kissed.
Lucas opts to drop by Max's place for a little while and then head home, and Mike, Will, and Dustin decide to hang out for a little while longer. Just before they leave, Will goes to use the bathroom and peeks into Eddie's room out of curiosity on the way back.
He's not entirely expecting to see the two of them intertwined, foreheads pressed together, arms braced on the other's, and legs weaved together, sharing warmth and comfort and safety, but he's not entirely surprised either, and a sense of something he can't quite understand yet blooms in his chest.